Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Menu => Active Sissy Stories => Topic started by: CuddleBunns on September 02, 2021, 09:39:54 PM
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Hey everyone! The following story is a collaboration between myself and fellow Betty's member PervScenes11. It's been a while in the making, and we've both had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE -- TEA WITH DOCTOR THURMAN
Melissa Harper blushed slightly and settled back in her chair, trying to relax. She wasn’t used to being this nervous in her own home, but then again, it wasn’t every day that a nationally-known psychiatrist came over for tea. “Are you sure you have everything you need, Doctor?” she asked.
Dr. Rebecca Thurman finished stirring the cup of black tea she’d just put honey into and smiled. “Yes, Melissa,” she said, sitting back and smiling. “Thank you.”
Dr. Thurman intimidated Melissa. She was so young, only 35, but she’d already accomplished so much: an MD/PhD, a best-selling self-help book for mothers, and several TED Talks. Melissa had read her books and watched all her TED Talks, so it was surreal for her to have Dr. Thurman here, in her home.
“I’m so grateful that you’re here, Doctor,” Melissa said, “But if you’ll forgive me for asking, why me? I mean, I’m sure there’s a waiting list a mile long, full of people wanting to become your clients.”
Dr. Thurman smiled a sly smile and pulled a small pair of glasses out of her expensive-looking suit jacket. “Well,” she said, “as you know, your local therapist that you’ve been seeing referred your case to me. And let’s just say that when I read your case file, I was immediately struck by the situation you’re in. And I think I might be able to help.”
Melissa flushed with gratitude. “I--I’m not even sure what to say to that. Last year was my son’s first year of 9th grade and it--it was a real struggle.”
“Your son,” Dr. Thurman said, pulling out a small notepad and a pen. “Michael?”
“Well, he prefers to go by Mike--”
“But to you, he’s always Michael, yes? In your heart?”
Melissa blushed again. “Yes! How did you know?”
Dr. Thurman chuckled. “Let’s just say that I think Michael is a certain kind of boy that I’ve had a good bit of experience with. So call it an educated guess. Now, Michael finished 9th grade last year?”
“Barely,” Melissa said with a wince. “Middle school wasn’t easy for him, but the transition to high school was very, very hard for him. He has trouble staying organized, keeping up with his schoolwork, even knowing when he’s supposed to be in which class. Changing classes from period to period was hard for him. And he wants to do well! He puts a lot of pressure on himself to succeed and when he doesn’t, well -- he cries a great deal and last year he even started having panic attacks at school before major tests. I’m afraid it affected his schoolwork.”
“Yes,” Dr. Thurman said, reviewing her notes, “A 2.2 GPA, and he’s on academic probation for this coming year.”
“Yes. This summer has been a lovely break from all the pressure of school, but Michael’s sophomore year starts in just a few weeks. I’m so worried about how it’s going to go.”
“Of course you are,” Dr. Thurman said. “Your son is struggling, and you’re all alone to deal with it.”
“Yes,” Melissa sighed. “My husband, Michael’s father, died in a car wreck when Michael was one. So it’s just been me and him all these years.”
Dr. Thurman nodded knowingly. “Your devotion to Michael shines through instantly, Melissa. I can see how hard you’re working to help him. It’s admirable, and I know it’s frustrating that the work you’re putting in isn’t paying off in a happier son. Or a happier you.”
Melissa’s whole face lit up this time. She couldn’t believe this important person was in her home, expressing sympathy for how she’d been suffering in the last few years.
“Now,” said Dr. Thurman, getting back to business. “This pressure you mention: a lot of it is social, yes? He doesn’t have any friends?”
“No, Michael has friends!”
“But none of them are boys? He spends his time with girls?”
Melissa winced. “He--well, our across the street neighbors, the Alfords, they’re a lovely family, and they have a daughter Michael’s age, Lauren. Michael and Lauren were best friends growing up--”
“And he played her games, yes? Growing up? More often than not they played with her dolls instead of him making her play sports with him?”
“Well, yes!” Melissa said, again surprised at how well Dr. Thurman seemed to know her son. “But in the last few years, now that Michael’s growing up, well, I think he has a massive crush on Lauren. He spends every second he can with her. Why, in fact, there they are now!”
Melissa pointed in the direction of the big picture window in her living room. Looking through the window, both women could see over Melissa’s front lawn and across the street to the Alfords’ house. It was a tasteful suburban mansion, and out of its front door was spilling a group of girls. They were all the same age as Michael--15 year olds about to start their sophomore year of high school--but they all looked incredibly mature for their age. Most could have passed for 19, especially Lauren herself, who was a tall, pale blond girl with large breasts and a kiss of freckles across her perfect nose. She and her girlfriends stood in sharp contrast to Michael, the only boy in the group. As they skipped out onto the front lawn and began setting up towels to lay on for an afternoon sunbathing session, they chatted amongst themselves and mostly ignored the boy, who tagged along behind them like a puppy. He was far shorter than the girls, and looked far younger. Dr. Thurman thought he could have passed for a 10 or 11 year old.
“Physically immature,” Dr. Thurman noted.
“Well -- yes, I suppose so,” Melissa demurred.
“It’s okay that you like that,” Dr. Thurman said.
Melissa went ghost white.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Dr. Thurman said. “I know Michael’s delayed puberty has made school hard for him. But it’s okay that you like it. It’s okay that you don’t really want his puberty to start. It’s okay that you dread him growing up and becoming,” Dr. Thurman grimaced, “a big, hairy, boring man.”
Melissa, for reasons that she herself didn’t entirely understand, began crying. She’d felt so alone for so long, and now she felt seen.
Across the street, Lauren had sat Michael down on a beach blanket. While the girls around him stripped down to bikinis, he remained fully dressed. Lauren sat in front of him and began braiding the long shock of hair that hung in his face.
Inside, Dr. Thurman had crossed to Melissa and was kneeling in front of her chair, holding her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Melissa. I’m here now. We’re going to take care of your son. We’re going to make him happy, and we’re going to make you happy too. I promise you.”
“How?” Melissa sobbed.
Dr. Thurman squeezed Melissa’s hand. “Right now, Michael is suffering, and you’re suffering, but he’s just not on the world’s timetable. He’s just behind, maturity-wise. He’s behind physically and socially. And that’s okay. And starting right here, right now, we’re going to let that be okay. We’re going to build something into his life, a space where it’s okay for him to be behind. A place where it’s okay for him to be whiny and needy and dependent. A place that will treat the anxiety and awkwardness he’s feeling.”
“What do you mean?” Melissa asked again.
“Trust me,” the Doctor said with a smile.
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CHAPTER TWO -- A CARING PLACE
The building itself wasn’t anything special. A fairly anonymous-looking office park, the kind built to look a little bit like residential housing from the outside. The kind of place full of doctor’s offices and dentist’s offices and small law firms. It could have been anywhere, really, and the sign on the door wasn’t anything special either, just tasteful bronze lettering on a brown plaque:
A CARING PLACE
Innovative Solutions to Modern Anxiety
“Mom,” Mike whined, “what is this place?”
Frustrated with his bad attitude, Melissa spun around and took her son by the shoulders. Staring down at the boy, who was barely 5’2’’, Melissa made and held eye contact as she said, “We’ve been over this, Michael. This is a clinic that your new therapist, Dr. Thurman, helped to set up. It’s a place that treats anxiety in children. And--” she said, cutting off his protests that he didn’t need such treatment and wasn’t a kid, “it’s VERY hard to get an appointment here and it’s VERY expensive. Dr. Thurman has gone out of her way to make this happen for us, and you will NOT embarrass me in here today. Is that clear? You WILL be on your best behavior.”
Mike sighed and rolled his eyes, and then he was shocked as his mom shook him by the shoulders. He was not used to her being this assertive!
“I SAID you will be on your best behavior in here today, is that clear?”
“Yes, Mom!” Mike said. He had no idea what this was, or why his mom cared so much about it. He knew he struggled with anxiety, and he knew that his old therapist had never been able to help him make much progress. He just didn’t know why his mom was so excited by this new doctor, whom he’d still never met! It was practically all she talked about.
Melissa opened the door to A Caring Place. As she did that with one hand, she also grabbed Michael’s hand with the other. Striding ahead of him, she led him inside. Mike wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but he felt foolish as his mother led him by the hand into what looked like a waiting room. A pediatrician’s waiting room, at that, one that catered to very young children indeed. On one wall were a few adult-sized seats, but at least half of the waiting area was set up as a play area for very young kids, with colorful mats detailing the ABCs on the floor and every manner of kid’s toys. One side of the room was painted baby blue, the other a nauseating soft pink. Decals of cartoon animals adorned the walls.
“Oh look, sweetie,” Melissa said, as she pulled her son behind her into the reception area. “You used to have a playset like that not so long ago!” The object Melissa was pointing to was one of those baby’s play stations where brightly colored blocks of various shapes and sizes can be pushed along the brightly colored wires they sit on.
“Mom, that was like, a long time ag--” Mike stammered as Melissa pulled him behind her to the reception desk. Glancing around the room, Mike saw a few adult women who were clearly moms, there with their small kids. A 6 year old in the play area was the oldest kid in the room, everyone else was younger than that. Mike blushed as he realized he was the oldest client in here by almost 10 years.
“Hello,” the woman behind the desk said. She was older than Mike’s mom and looked thick and matronly in her white nursing outfit. “You all must be the Harpers. Melissa--” she said, pointing at Mike’s mom, and then, turning to him: “And you must be little Michael. We are so, so glad you’re here today, sweetheart. I don’t want you to worry about a thing. We’re going to take the VERY best care of you today, baby.”
Mike winced at being talked down to so hard. He didn’t know how to respond.
“Say thank you to the nice lady, Michael,” his mother prompted him.
“Th-thank you,” Mike stammered.
“Now, Michael?” his mom said, turning to him. “Why don’t you go relax and play while me and this nice lady take care of payment and final details?”
“Mom, I don’t want to play with any of--”
“Michael,” his mother said, in her no-nonsense tone. “Remember what we talked about outside?”
Feeling entirely stupid, Mike turned and looked over the waiting room. Having no interest in joining the small kids and toddlers playing with blocks or a dollhouse, he took a seat in the adult section of the waiting room. As he did so, a woman in her forties--clearly the mom of one of the toddlers--gave him a strange, almost dirty look. Mike tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter what some stranger thought of him, but as he settled back in his seat, he was dismayed to see that his feet didn’t quite touch the floor. It was hard to feel tough when he was exposed like that.
In a minute or two, Melissa returned, taking the seat next to Mike and again taking his hand.
“Sweetie, it really would have been okay if you wanted to play,” his mom said, squeezing his hand. “No one here is judging you.”
“Mom, I’m fifteen. I don’t want to--”
Mike was cut off as a door opened and a devastatingly beautiful young woman in a nurse’s uniform stepped into the reception area. She was in her mid-20s and she was very tall, with a slim waist and massive breasts that Mike’s eyes went to right away. She had jet black hair and icy blue eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. She did not look like someone to be trifled with. “Michael Harper?” she said, looking right at him. “Hi there. I’m Nurse Victoria, and I’m going to be getting you checked in today. You’re not going to give me any trouble are you?”
“Michael,” Melissa said, “Nurse Victoria’s eyes are up there, sweetie. That’s where you should look, not on her chest.”
Mike blushed so hard he felt his face exploding. He stammered to say something, to spit out a denial, but nothing came out, and Nurse Victoria just laughed, smiling at his mom. “Don’t worry about that Ms. Harper,” she said, “you get used to a lot of that from the little ones when you work at a place like this!”
“I’m sure you do,” Melissa said. Mike felt small and embarrassed and out of control. He knew the two women were laughing about him somehow, but he couldn’t make sense of it.
Then Victoria turned to Mike, extending a hand. “Okay, sweetie-bear. Come with me, and Nurse Victoria will get you all checked in for your big first day!”
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CHAPTER THREE -- THE CHECK-IN PROCESS
Although no one had said he was in trouble for anything, Mike felt like a small, scolded child as he was led along between Nurse Victoria and his mother, each woman holding one of his hands as though he needed their help to walk. Nurse Victoria led them through the door she’d entered through, and deeper into the . . . well, whatever this place was! After a walk down a short hallway, she stopped at a door marked “Intake” and led the trio inside.
The room looked like a medical exam room in a pediatrician’s office, though this room clearly was meant for girls, as it had pink wallpaper with a repeating pattern of baby giraffes with bows on their heads.
Nurse Victoria kneeled in front of Mike, so that her face was on level with his. This was uncomfortable for Mike, who, being naturally shy, always had trouble with direct eye contact. In a syrupy voice better suited for addressing toddlers, she held his gaze--as well as one of his hands--and said, “Hey there, Little Man. Now, I know you’re probably confused about what’s going on, but don’t you worry. That’s the whole point of you being here, baby--when you’re here, you don’t have to worry. There’s just one thing you have to do for me, okay? Can you do a thing for me? Can you be a big boy and do one little job for your sweet nurse while she takes care of you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Victoria reached up with her free hand and put something in Mike’s mouth. It was soft and had a plastic-y taste. As Victoria moved to the side, he saw his image in a full-length mirror and was shocked to see himself suc-king on a pacifier. It was lavender in color, with a glittery sheen to it, and it had a huge white ring on the front of it. He immediately tried to spit it out, but Nurse Victoria reached up and prevented him from spitting it out. Her tone shifting on a dime, she said sharply: “No, Sir! Ab-so-LUTEly not! That’s your special paci, baby boy, and Nurse Victoria knows you’re new here, but Nurse Victoria will also spank your little bottom raw if you take that pacifier out or spit it out. Only adults can do that. Are we clear?”
Mike felt dizzy with humiliation. What was even happening? An hour ago he’d been at home, playing his Nintendo Switch. Now he was suc-king a pacifier and being baby-talked to by this strange woman! He twisted his head up and looked imploringly at his mom, but she just squeezed his hand and gave him a look that said he’d better behave.
“Okay then, baby doll! Nurse Victoria is going to take her hand away, but your special, beautiful pacifier that she picked out just for you is going to stay in baby-waby’s little mouth, isn’t it? Isn’t it? There. There we go. What a good boy. Now listen, that’s the only thing you need to worry about when you’re here. You just keep your paci in your mouth, baby. Only adults can take it out or put it in, and you’re not an adult, are you? Of course you’re not. But don’t you worry, baby. We adults are going to take care of the rest.”
With that, Victoria took the hand of Mike’s that she was holding and handed it off to Melissa, who now stood behind her son, holding both his hands straight up in the air. Both of her hands now free, Victoria reached out and, with no warning at all, pulled down Mike’s pants and underwear together, all in one fell swoop. Mike always had trouble working belts and getting ones that fit his little waist, so his gym shorts and boxers were easy to slide off his hips and down his hairless legs. He stood there, his hands still being held by these two women, totally naked from the waist down, his shorts and boxers clumped around his ankles and spilling onto his white tennis shoes. To make it worse, he was hard. Rock-hard. The entire two and one half inches of his so-called “man”hood were erect and dripping, stimulated that way by the closeness of Nurse Victoria, the smell of her perfume, and the way her huge breasts tented the front of her uniform. He’d never been this humiliated in his whole life! He felt dizzy and shaky on his feet. The whole room seemed hot and unreal. He again looked to his mom for help.
“This is for the best,” Nurse Victoria said as she quickly raised each of Mike’s feet and had him step free of his shorts and boxers. “It’s just like we talked about, Ms. Harper. Having to make choices causes him a lot of stress . . . ”
“Yes,” Melissa said approvingly. “So you take away his choices while he’s here.”
Mike’s face was blushing crimson red as Victoria used her free hand to pat the seat of the padded doctor’s exam table that stood in the middle of the room, ushering Mike up onto it. He decided it was best to comply with her obvious body language, considering the scolding he had just received. As the half-naked boy was climbing onto it, Melissa could not help but giggle when she noticed Victoria give his exposed rear a loving tap, as if she was lovingly helping to guide him.
“The first thing we need to take care of is making sure our new little one is nice and healthy”, Victoria declared, walking over to a cabinet and pulling it open to reveal both a stethoscope and a small white thermometer. She casually grabbed both instruments and brought them closer. Before she got back to Mike, his mother had slipped his t-shirt off over his head. He felt entirely stupid: naked except for his socks and sneakers and a pacifier. Soon, Nurse Victoria was moving the stethoscope all along his torso and looking for heartbeats. While she studied his body up and down, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes fixed upon her tantalizingly large breasts, which kept his pathetically tiny pen-is rock hard. If she noticed one bit, she did not show it, as she just kept on looking him over methodically like the professional she was.
“Hmm, seems like a perfectly healthy little snookums to me. Anything abnormal going on we should know about, Ms. Harper?”
Melissa shook her head. “Nothing serious, but he does seem to be developing slower than other boys his age. Not that-” Melissa suddenly caught herself. She was going to say “not that that’s going to be a problem”, but she realised last second that it maybe wouldn’t be wise to play her hand too early. “Not that I mind at all, I think it’s pretty cute actually. Really, I don’t think any Mom likes seeing her kid grow up too fast.” She quickly breathed a sigh of relief, glad she was able to catch herself.
Victoria gave her a knowing grin and removed the stethoscope from around her neck. “I understand exactly what you mean, dear.” Victoria said earnestly as she placed the stethoscope down and reached for the thermometer. “I don’t have any children of my own, but if little Mikey here were mine, I don’t think I’d ever let him grow up. I mean, look how natural he looks with that pacifier! He’s barely had it in his mouth for one minute and I seriously can’t picture him without it!”
Mike groaned inwardly, although it appeared that Melissa heartily agreed. He was very self aware about the fact that he was underdeveloped compared to his peers, and every single night he hoped and prayed beyond belief that he could one day catch up to them. The other children at school even had a nickname for him, Shrimp, which they would tease him with constantly. On more than one occasion, even his Gym teacher had used this embarrassing nickname to refer to him in front of the entire class, much to Mike’s horror. Where he was right now, almost totally naked, sat inside of this childish room with a pacifier in his mouth, he did not feel like he was growing much bigger at all. In fact, he was feeling smaller by the second. Things only got worse for Mike when he saw Victoria reaching for a rubber glove from a dispenser on the wall.
“W-Why do you need a glove to take my temperature?” He asked her cautiously, removing the pacifier as he did so. Her reaction surprised him when she simply reached down and grabbed the pacifier, placing it back into his mouth. Victoria shook her head and slapped his thigh hard, causing him to yelp out in surprise and pain.
“What did I tell you about removing your pacifier, baby? This time I’ll let you off with a warning, but if I see you take it out of your mouth again, I’ll give you a spanking that you won’t soon forget,” she stated firmly, although her voice was pragmatic rather than truly angry. Mike got the message and began suc-king on his pacifier again, although Melissa could tell from his body language that he was not happy about it. “In time”, Melissa thought to herself with a chuckle.
Victoria wasted no time picking up where she left off. She had Mike turn so that his feet were lifted up on the exam table, and she pushed his chest back so that he was lying down on his back. She then began to spread Mike’s thighs apart and looked at him with an amused twinkle in her eye, patting his leg comfortingly. “I’m going to have to take your temperature now, so things might feel uncomfortable for a second”, she explained. “I promise if you just stay there and do as you’re told like a good little baby that it’ll be over quickly. Who knows, you may even like it!”
Mike closed his eyes in embarrassment, finally realising what she was intending to do. He braced for impact, tensing his body and trying not to think about what was coming next. When he finally felt the cool metal of the thermometer enter his bottom, he began suc-king on his pacifier even harder than before.
“Just a tiiiiiiny bit of development here,” Victoria said, running her fingers through the light dusting of pubic hair Mike was so proud of.
“Well . . . yes,” Melissa said with a frown.
As Mike lay there with his eyes closed, desperately wanting his temperature check to be over with, he felt some cool and moist on his crotch. He looked down to see Vanessa’s gloved hands smearing some sort of gel all over his pubic hair. He’d never been touched by anyone down there before and the feeling of her hands moving near his tiny coc-k made it ache and throb. He was harder than he’d ever been in his whole life! He almost cried out to ask what she was doing, but the look on his mom’s face kept him quiet.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Harper,” Victoria said. “This treatment will take care of all that. And if you look at the rest of him? Perfectly smooth. Not a hair on these legs of his, I’d say. Or his armpits either.”
Melissa smiled proudly, and Michael put his head back down, concerned about why the treatment Victoria had applied was beginning to tingle. The cold thermometer in his rear and the tingling feeling on his crotch, it all seemed to last for an uncomfortably long time, and when Victoria finally pulled the instrument away, he was glad it was finally over. Then, with a bored, clinical look on her face, she grabbed some paper towels and wiped the ointment off of Mike’s crotch. He was stunned to see his few pubic hairs come with it! When Victoria was finished, he was bald as a baby!
“See? That wasn’t so bad!” Victoria said with a smile, throwing the wadded up paper towels, and the lone sign of his manhood along with them, into the trash. Mike felt tears welling up in his eyes. Most of his peers got hair back in middle school, but his had only come in in the middle of last year. It was the one thing about his body that gave him hope that he wouldn’t be “Shrimp” forever! And now it was gone!
“Alright,” Victoria said, “now that we know that our bouncing little baby is healthy and clean, we can finally move onto the main event. Melissa, you might want to come here and hold your son’s hands for a minute. The first time we do this can be a bit too much for some, and he may need a bit of emotional support during what comes next. I promise you though, it really is for the best if you want to give him the kind of care that he needs.”
Melissa nodded, walking to the head of the exam table, where she reached down and grabbed hold of both of Mike’s hands, pulling them above his head and holding each of his in each of hers. As he looked up at her, it felt incredibly strange to see her smiling face beam down at him with such loving maternal warmth, all while he sat there almost completely naked, his coc-k unable to stop throbbing. For some reason it seemed to be unlocking a feeling deep inside him that he could not quite put a finger on. As much as he would never want to admit it, her presence was indeed very comforting.
In the meantime, Victoria had walked to the other side of the room and opened a small fridge, pulling out what looked to be a bag of frozen peas, as well as a tiny, strange looking purple device from a nearby cabinet. Mike looked on in confusion as she made her way back and began to rub her finger along his tummy.
“We are about to take a big step towards making you better, but I need you to understand something, alright babykins? What we are about to do is not only best for your own mental wellbeing, but also for the safety and comfort of the staff here at A Caring Place. I want you to know that as soon as this goes on, it is to STAY on. Good little boys and girls do not indulge in naughtiness and as long as you’re under our program, neither will you.”
Confused and overwhelmed, but too scared to take his pacifier out, Mike bleated a note of protest into it. The sound that came out was wet, sloppy, and embarrassing.
“Ssssssssh,” his mom cooed down to him. “Ssssshhhhhh, look at me sweetheart--” As she said that, Mike’s whole body convulsed with shock as Victoria’s fingers wrapped around the base of his coc-k and balls. In some ways, having a babe like Victoria fondle him was a dream come true, but having it happen here, while he suc-ked a pacifier and stared up at his mom made the whole experience humiliating instead of erotic.
“Okay,” Victoria said, “here we go.”
Melissa nodded her head and squeezed her hands more tightly around her son’s. Then Mike’s whole body writhed in shock as Victoria pressed the bag of frozen peas onto, and around, his little package. He jerked and twisted to try to escape the cold, but there was nowhere to go as his mom held his hands and Victoria used her free hand to reach up and hold his pacifier in place.
“Mmmmmmnnnnnnnphhhhhh!” Mike squealed.
Melissa leaned down, pressing her face close to her sissy son’s.
“Sssssshhhhh,” she whispered. “What comes next is the hardest part, but I am so proud of you, sweetheart. We have such a long way to go, but this is a very, very big first step and Mommy is so proud of you.” Mike was stunned. The cold on his genitals felt awful and absolutely killed any hard on he had. But he couldn’t remember the last time his mom had said she was proud of him. In fact, most of the time they fought and butted heads. Most of the time he felt ashamed: ashamed that he wasn’t taller, ashamed that he wasn’t more manly, ashamed that he did bad in school and worried her with his crying and his panic attacks. The cold felt so terrible and he was so embarrassed and exposed and confused and scared, but as the cold stopped, he found he couldn’t look away from his mother’s eyes. They were wet. She was on the verge of tears as Mike felt Victoria’s hands manipulating him in some way down below. “Ssssssssshhhhhh,” Melissa cooed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know until now. I’m so sorry I didn’t know what you needed. But now I do. Mommy knows what her sweet baby needs, and Mommy is going to be here for you every step of the way, sweetheart. Mommy knows it’ll be hard at first, and confusing, but Mommy is so, so proud of you.”
Melissa let go of his hands so that she could step back and wipe her eyes. She then raised her head, looking at Nurse Victoria. “Is that it?”
Free to sit up a little, Mike looked down at his crotch to see that Victoria had put something on him. Something purple. Light purple. The same color as his pacifier. Lavender, he thought, wondering how that word was even in his head. It was some sort of small, plastic or rubber-looking tube, and it fit over his now cold-shriveled pen-is, compressing it tightly to his body and aiming it down. The tube was connected to some sort of ring that went around his balls and there was a teeny tiny padlock locked into the top, where the tube met the ring.
“That’s it,” Victoria said with a smile. “Custom-made, of course, since he’s so small. No more erections, and no orgasms. Ever. And--” she said, turning to face Mike and slap his curious hands away as he reached to examine this new thing “NO TOUCHING from baby boys! Do you understand me, sugar-plum? No touching. This little cage is a permanent part of your body now. In it, you’re safe, and the staff here at A Caring Place are safe too. You’re a good bit bigger than most of the babies we deal with here, so with a big baby like you, we need to take precautions to make sure that you know that nothing that happens here is sexual in any way.”
“Certainly not,” said his mother. Mike noticed that she was crying now, happy tears. Why was that? And what was this thing on him? Did they really mean that he would never. . . ?
“Come along, little one,” Victoria said, taking one of Mike’s hands and helping the boy--still naked except for his pacifier, socks, shoes, and this new lavender cage--down off the exam table. “Nurse Linda has just been dying to meet you.”
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A delightful story (hopefully with more to follow) - and an obviously fruitful collaboration. Thank you both!
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I love this story. Has a lot of promise. Very stimulating narrative, descriptions, dialogue, and pacing. I am looking forward to the next chapters.
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Thank you so much for the kind words on the story so far. They mean a lot.
I've read (and loved) stories here for a long time, and always sort of wanted to write one, and it was honor to have CuddleBunns agree to collab with me. We have lots more of Michael's story written, and we'll try to post an update once a week. We hope you enjoy the ride.
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Yay. More story stuff coming.
Oh. But I don't to wait for story times. *maximum baby tantrum*
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CHAPTER FOUR -- MEETING NURSE LINDA
Still holding Mike’s hand as if he was a small child, Victoria led him merrily out the door and down the hall. Melissa followed them close behind, giggling to herself at Mike’s demure and nervous body language, which she thought was simply adorable. As the three of them passed by the other employees of the facility, Victoria seemingly felt the need to wave hello to each and every one of them, something that made Mike even more squeamish and aware of his naked and vulnerable state. With his free hand, he attempted to cover his embarrassing shame, a feat that simply caused Victoria to laugh.
“You may as well get used to being seen like this kiddo”, she chided him in a teasing fashion, “Little boys have no sense of shame, and soon neither will you.”
Before Mike knew it, they had arrived at a door labeled “Girl’s Nursing Suite 11”. Just under the door sign was a whiteboard with today’s date and the names “Nurse Linda” and “Michael Harper.” Victoria wasted no time leading him inside, where he saw a room that was similarly bright and childish like the previous room, except instead of a doctor’s office it was a nursery. Bright, light pink wallpaper with bunny print enveloped the room with an overwhelmingly infantile charm, and the large sofa placed against the middle of one wall looked comfortable and inviting. Instead of a conventional rug, the floor was covered with an alphabet-clad foam play mat, its lettering all in soft pastel shades, and much like the waiting room, toys made for children--female children--much younger than him seemed to dot the floor. Michael’s eyes bugged out trying to take it all in--there was a highchair and a crib with what looked to be a locking top and a changing table and a dresser with a host of baby dolls atop it and two big, closed closet doors that he somehow knew he didn’t want to see opened--and figure out why his name would be on the door of a room like this, a room so clearly made for a baby girl. Melissa joined them inside the nursery and squealed when she saw how adorable it was.
“This place is absolutely precious, isn’t it Michael?” She asked him excitedly, although he was unsure whether he was allowed to respond with the pacifier in his mouth. Instead, he responded with a half hearted shrug.
“Oh, I’m sure he loves it”, Victoria responded for him, ignoring his response completely. “We recently decided to redecorate the place to provide our clients with a more comfortable and familiar atmosphere. We’ve found that the childish and non-threatening look of it helps them get into the right sort of mindset for their treatment more easily. For more intensive programs, we often recommend re-decorating the subject’s room at home in a similar manner to better acclimate them to the sort of emotional states recommended to successfully complete their therapy. Plus, it’s just the cutest thing ever, don’t you think?“
“I do! And that’s a genius idea,” Melissa responded in amazement, clearly deep in thought about the prospect. “Does it really work?”
“Well . . . ”, Victoria began honestly, “It does, but keep in mind that it’s only one small part of the process. Really, it’s the routines and lifestyle changes that do most of the heavy lifting. The aesthetics are more of window dressing than anything else. If you want, I’d be happy to talk with you sometime about our home decor options, though of course not right now. I don’t want to drag you away from Little Michael’s special day.”
Melissa nodded, and so the three of them waited a short while for Nurse Linda to arrive. Mike just stood there awkwardly while the two adults in the room casually chatted away, until a door on the opposite wall opened and a large, matronly-looking woman entered the room. A somewhat plump brunette with a few visible gray hairs, she wore her hair out of her face, twisted up into a large bun. She was wearing a white silk bathrobe and was barefoot. The robe did little to conceal what were massive breasts, easily the biggest pair Michael had ever seen. He’d thought Victoria’s were massive, but this woman’s dwarfed hers. Michael’s coc-k throbbed, quickly expanding to fill the tight space of the tube it was now contained in. As he winced with the painful pressure of it, the design and goals of the device began to dawn on him.
“Melissa,” this new woman said as she crossed the room. “I”m Nurse Linda.”
Michael was amazed that his mom was once again almost in tears. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you,” she said to Nurse Linda, as they hugged one another tightly.”I just . . . I just can’t believe that we’re actually here, that this is actually going to happen.”
Linda looked at Melissa and broke into a warm smile, “Well, believe it. You are here, and this is going to happen. I promise you.”
Michael, his tiny coc-k aching as it strained against its cage, danced from foot to foot and made a whining noise, hoping to get his Mom’s attention. He was overwhelmed and confused and embarrassed by his near total nudity and he was tired of being the only one who seemed to not know what’s going on.
-
“Ssssssshhhhhh,” Nurse Victoria said, touching the ring of Michael’s pacifier and making sure it stayed in his mouth. “The adults are talking now, and you need to get used to being seen and not heard.”
Linda turned to Victoria. “All checked in?” she asked.Victoria nodded, “Healthy, smooth, and pacified -- in more ways that one,” she said, pointing from Michael’s pacifier to his matching chastity cage. “Our precious baby is all ready for your TLC.”
“Thank you, Victoria,” Nurse Linda said, reaching over and taking Michael’s hand from her. Kneeling to face Michael, Linda smiled warmly at him. Nothing about his situation or condition changed--he was still nearly naked, suc-king on a pacifier, his coc-k bound away in a cage--but somehow he felt better looking at Nurse Linda’s smiling face. “Well, hi there, Little Miss Priss--” Linda said, “look how beautiful you are. You’re not really a baby boy, are you?” Victoria said goodbye to Melissa and excused herself from the room, exiting the way they’d come in and laughing quietly to herself at the confused, burbled protests that Michael launched from behind his pacifier.
“Awwww, baby,” Nurse Linda said, reaching out and stroking one of Michael’s smooth thighs. “Don’t worry, baby. Nurse Linda just thinks you’re pretty, that’s all. Pretty enough to eat! Now listen, sugar bear, you’re with Nurse Linda now, and your Mommy, and you’re safe. Do you understand? No more tough guy stuff, no more act to keep up with the real boys. It’s totally okay for you to relax and act allllllll girly here. ‘Cause you’re with Nurse Linda and your Mommy, and you are totally safe, and we’re going lift all your cares this afternoon.”
Michael had no idea what was going on, or what to expect next. But there was something about the way Nurse Linda looked at him. It seemed like she looked right through him, like he couldn’t hide from her. He was totally compliant as she patted his behind gently and led him, his hand in hers, over to the big, comfy-looking couch in the room.
Walking ahead of Michael, Nurse Linda sat down on the far right hand side of the couch. Still holding his hand, she guided him up onto the couch. “Thaaaaaat’s it, baby! That’s it! What a beautiful girl you are.” Michael bleated against his pacifier in protest, trying to explain that he was not a girl. But no one listened to him, and Nurse Linda guided him backwards, laying him across her legs, so that he was looking directly up at her face. But between her face and his were her massive, massive breasts. Michael blushed, having never been this close to a woman before.
“Hi, pretty girl,” Nurse Linda cooed down at him, her fingers gently stroking the side of his face.
“Michael isn’t a girl,” Melissa said, as she pulled a chair up and sat down facing Linda and Michael.”Given the way he’s dressed,” she said, indicating his nudity, “I thought that would be relatively obvious.”
Linda looked skeptically down at Michael’s lavender coc-k cage. “That little thing? How obvious is it, really?” Both women laughed. “But seriously, Melissa, the way I see things, being a girl isn’t a matter of anatomy. And your little Michael here, well, she fits the profile of a baby girl in a number of ways.”
Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of feeling scared and embarrassed and out of control. He was tired of not knowing what was going on. He was tired of being treated like a baby. Starting to sit up, he spit the pacifier out of his mouth, and said, “Mom! This is crazy! Can we please get out of --”
Melissa was horrified and started to sit up to discipline her son, but Nurse Linda stopped her by raising one hand. Then she lowered that hand and slid one side of her white silk robe down, off the shoulder, so that it fell away, revealing her massive left breast. The sight of it, even still contained in a white bra cup, stopped Michael in his tracks. Fascinated to be so close to a giant breast, he laid back down across Linda’s lap, his mouth going slack with awe.
“It’s okay,” Linda said, seemingly to both mother and child. “It’s okay. Little baby girls shouldn’t be talking or fussing, but it’s okay. It’s our first day together, and we’ve got a lot to learn, don’t we?” Gently, she stroked Michael’s face and re-inserted his pacifier. Melissa could not help but notice that he immediately began suc-king it, not just holding it in his mouth. “Ssssshhhh. Yes. Yes we do have a lot to learn, don’t we, pretty girl? But that’s okay. Nurse Linda’s here. You just relax, sweetie.” With those words, Linda opened the front flap of her nursing bra, pulling it away to reveal a fat nipple and a huge pink areola. It had to be silver-dollar sized, at least, and Melissa knew right away that Linda’s nursing bra had to have been custom made for her.
“That’s it,” Linda cooed. “There you go, sweet girl. Now you know why you’re here. Now you know. That’s right. Nurse Linda is going to be your very own wet nurse today. And in the days to come, sweetheart. That’s right. Nurse Linda knows all about how hard it is for you, walking around pretending to be grown and pretending to be a boy. Nurse Linda knows how much that hurts. But you don’t have to worry about any of that, not when you’re here with me, sugarplum. What Nurse Linda’s sweet baby girl needs to make all that stress go away is a nice big nipple. It’s okay, sweet girl, you can go ahead and stare.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the nursery. Michael was paralyzed on Nurse Linda’s lap. His whole body felt flushed with lust, and he knew his face was bright red. What this woman was saying was deranged, but he could not pull his eyes off of the massive teat in front of him. Ever since the girls in his grade had started growing boobs, Michael had been fascinated by them. But he’d never seen a bare breast in person before, much less been so close to one so titanic. He was mesmerized by the sight of it, and slurped on his pacifier as he stared up at it. Melissa, for her part, was blown away by how utterly in control Nurse Linda was, and how beautiful the service she was about to provide was.
-
“You--” Melissa stammered. “You said Michael fit the -- the profile?”
“Of a baby girl? Oh, yes.”
“What did you --?”
“Dr. Thurman recommended me by name, didn’t she?” Linda asked.
“Yes, she said it had to be you.”
“Well, honey, I only nurse our baby girls here. I can’t abide loud, rude, arrogant, stinky boys. But when I read your darling Michael’s file, well, she didn’t seem much like a boy to me. Bad at sports. Shy and scared a ball might be thrown at her, and don’t even mention contact sports like football. No guy friends, only girls. But not girlfriends, just friends who are girls. They treat her more like a pet than an equal don’t they? And all her struggles at school? Her whining and complaining and her panic attacks? Those are all because she’s not made for school. She’s been pushed too far, asked to do things that aren’t appropriate for her age and gender. School asks her to make decisions and be independent and that’s not what our sweet little angel is good at, is it?” Squeezing her own massive nipple between thumb and forefinger, Linda caused a milky white bead to emerge from its tip. Michael’s eyes went wide as she turned to stare down at him. “No, no, it’s not, honey. Sssssshhhh. Yes, Nurse Linda sees you. She knows you. You haven’t met before, but Nurse Linda knows just what beautiful little girls like you need. Just keep staring at Nurse Linda’s nipple, honey. You just stare all you want and let your wet nurse’s nipple calm you right down.”
“I --” Melissa stammered, awestruck. “Nothing you’re saying is wrong, I just--”
“Give it time,” Linda said. “Give yourself time to see things how they really are. I know it’s a big adjustment, but once you think about it, you’ll see that it’s the world that’s wrong. You know the truth about your daughter.”
“My daughter?” Melissa said, stunned.
“Your daughter, Melissa.” Linda’s words were gentle but forceful.
Wordlessly, silently, without even a whine into his pacifier, Michael suddenly started to cry. He had no idea why. He was beyond thinking or reasoning now. He was so tired and so shocked from the day’s weird events and it was so warm and comforting on Linda’s lap that somehow he just started to cry. Huge, fat tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down the sides of his face. His whole body started shaking like he was freezing to death, even though he was burning up, both from his embarrassment and from the intensity of his lust for Nurse Linda. His tiny coc-k throbbed, quickly mashing itself against the limits of the soft cage that now confined it. That pain only made him cry harder.
“Therrrrrrrrrre we go,” Nurse Linda said, beaming down on him. “Now we’re ready.” She reached down and slid his pacifier out of his mouth. A long string of drool ran from his lips to the bulb of the pacifier as she put it away. “Go ahead, baby. Go ahead and nurse.” Michael leaned his head up and Linda cupped her breast and offered it to him. “There you go sweetie,” Linda cooed as he latched on, struggling to find a way to get all of her huge areola in his mouth.
“That’s it baby,” Linda told him. “That’s it. What a good girl. What a gooooood girl you are. Take your time, baby. We have plenty of time, and Nurse Linda knows it’s a lot to get all in your mouth. There you go. That’s it. Get allllllll of it in. Then push with your tongue, sweet girl, yes! Just like that! Push in with your tongue at the bottom, then keep pushing up. There you go! That’s how you get the milk you need! Who’s a natural at this? You are, sweet girl!”
Melissa, watching intently, was crying now too. “He -- he really knows what to do?”
“Of course she does,” Linda said gently, stroking the back of Michael’s head. “She’s been needing this for so long. Needing it deep down. Needing it so bad she couldn’t have put words to it even if you’d asked her.”
“How?”
“Too much time thinking she’s a boy. Too much time thinking she’s a big kid. Trying to act tough. All that boys don’t cry stuff. That’s fine for boys, but not for your daughter.”
“My daughter?” Melissa said again.
“Your daughter,” Linda said, her voice gentle but unyielding. “I know it sounds weird, feels weird right now. But give it time. You don’t have to start using female pronouns yet. I see your daughter clearly for who she is, so I will always use them. But you’ve been a victim of this false narrative about who and what she is. So of course it’s going to take longer for you to get used to. You haven’t worked with this special kind of baby girl before, like I have, so of course you don’t know yet. But I promise you, there will come a day when you call Michael her and when you accept her as your daughter, not your son. And that day is going to be so beautiful, and it’s going to feel so right. In fact, I’d recommend that you try to stop thinking of her as Michael. What beautiful little girl name did you have picked out before she was born and the doctors lied to you about who she was?”
Emily, Melissa thought. Emily.
Her mind was racing. She couldn’t speak. Her heart was pounding against her chest. She could only stare, dumbstuck, at Michael hungrily slurping on Linda’s gigantic nipple.
-
Thank you all so much for the positive reception so far. Like PervScenes11 said, there's a lot more coming, so stay tuned. I'm so excited to share what we've been working on over the past couple of months. It's been a blast working together, and I'm absolutely jazzed to finally be able to share everything we've written.
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Whee such fun :)
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Wonderful. Hits on every detail. (How better life would have been had I been able to find that Caring Place which I always wanted). Thank you for this treat.
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Great! Reminds me of all the wonderful stories by Baby Bobby. Can't wait for more!
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CuteButt: thank you! It is an enormous compliment to be compared to Baby Bobby, who I think is the GOAT sissy story writer. Baby Bobby, Andlat, and my writing partner CuddleBunns are my favorite sissy story writers, and I am sure readers will notice places where my work here has been inspired by theirs.
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CHAPTER FIVE -- A VISIT TO THE PHARMACY
Michael woke with a shock to find himself sitting alone in the waiting room of A Caring Place, staring blankly at a television playing children’s cartoons in the corner of the room. He had no memory of falling asleep while being nursed, and no memory of being dressed, but thankfully he was dressed in his normal clothes again! Although his eyes were fixed on the screen, he paid little attention to the bright and colorful images that were flashing before him. Instead he found himself deep in thought, severely conflicted and in shock about what had just happened. He could tell, without having to look, that that weird cage they’d put on his weiner was still there, under his clothes. That cage! He couldn’t believe everything that had happened to him today, and he didn’t know how to feel about any of it: aroused? Ashamed? Confused? Betrayed? All of these feelings washed over him in waves, and Michael, who had never enjoyed introspection, had no idea how to make sense of any of them.
His concentration was broken when Melissa suddenly returned from her trip to the front desk and tapped him on the shoulder. “Alright baby, Mommy got us all checked out so we’re free to leave,” Melissa said with a warm smile, putting her arm around his and pulling him up to his feet. Michael followed her lead, although it was clear from the look on his face that he still wasn’t all there.
“Mom, you don’t really think I’m a girl, do you?” Michael asked Melissa in a worried tone of voice as they left the building and began to cross the parking lot. Melissa chuckled and shook her head.
“Honey,” she began, pulling him closer with her arm around his shoulder, “Don’t be silly. Of course I know you’re a boy, I gave birth to you for God’s sake. I’ve raised you for fifteen years! If you were really a girl, I think I would have realised it by now.”
Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He had always been very self conscious about his masculinity, and he would take any reassurance he could get that he was still just a regular boy. However, a tinge of worry reappeared in his mind when Melissa added, “Of course, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to get more in touch with your feminine side. Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you need to be all boy.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“Oh, nothing dear. I just want you to know that you can always be yourself and mommy will love you no matter what.”
By now they had arrived at Melissa’s red minivan. Melissa opened the back door and ushered Michael inside of it. Michael groaned. Despite being fifteen years old, his mother still would not allow Michael to sit in the front seat like all the other children his age. Whenever he complained about it, she would give him the same explanation--that it was for his safety--but a part of him suspected that she just wanted to be able to keep an eye on him in the rear view mirror at all times.
Before closing the door, however, Melissa further embarrassed Michael with a wet kiss on the cheek. “You’ve been very good today honey. I’m very, very proud of my special little sugar plum,” she cooed in a sickly sweet tone of voice. Before he knew it, she had shut the door and re-entered through the driver’s side entrance, quickly turning the keys to the ignition and starting their journey back home.
The ride back from A Caring Place seemed to go on forever, although in actuality it was no more than a thirty minute drive. As they repeatedly found themselves stopped at traffic light after traffic light, an overwhelming feeling of sleepiness soon overcame Michael, who by the fifteen minute mark drifted off into a deep sleep. Unbeknownst to Michael, however, they were not headed straight home.
Melissa eventually turned into the parking lot of her local pharmacy, pulling her car into an empty space and turning it off with a twist of the keys. When she looked up into the rear view mirror and saw Michael peacefully sleeping behind her, her heart melted. He looked so tranquil and carefree. His tiny little breaths and his fluttering eyelids caused Melissa to swoon with maternal affection.
In stark contrast, directly ahead of her were a rough group of local boys hanging outside of the building. They were the exact opposite of Michael. Dressed in dirty, ragged clothes; they were giving lusty, leering stares at an unsuspecting female customer who was too busy walking through the front entrance to notice them. Melissa sneered with disgust, deciding right then and there that Dr. Thurman’s therapy was the right choice for her boy. There was certainly nothing wrong with not rushing her son to grow up into one of those things. Her son was everything they were not. Gentle. Obedient. Charming. Nothing like the rude little monsters that stood there wolfishly howling at every passerby that had the misfortune to cross their path. If that’s what a teenage boy was, surely there was no harm in winding back the clock a bit, preserving Michael’s innocence and sweetness a little longer.
Melissa stepped out of the car and made her way towards the entrance, turning her face to stone as she passed the rotten gang of feral man children. She did not hear them make their disgusting innuendo with each other until she had already passed them, further confirming to her that, like most of the males she encountered on a daily basis, they were nothing but a bunch of posturing cowards who were too weak to speak their disgusting, sexist venom directly to their victim’s faces. When she was finally inside, she made a b-line directly to the medicine counter in the back.
“Hello ma’am, how can I help you?” said a friendly looking female pharmacist.
“I’m doing fine, I’m just here to fill this prescription. Do you have any in stock?”
Melissa pulled out a piece of paper with a scrip that Nurse Victoria had written her. The pharmacist took the slip of paper from Melissa and read it over.
“We certainly do have this!” The pharmacist replied with a big smile. “What a happy thing for you! Just give me a few moments to fill it out.”
Melissa, feeling herself blush slightly, found a seat to wait in while the scrip was being processed. Next to the seat was a small table covered in different magazines for customers to read while they waited, and after a few moments of boredom, Melissa soon picked up a brightly colored children’s fashion magazine from the top of the pile. Turning to a random page, her eyes were greeted with the summer’s hottest styles for preteen girls, and her mind was immediately sent back to the conversation she had had with Nurse Linda. It was true that Michael had never been much like the other boys. He was meek, suggestible, and not exactly the shining beacon of male virility that his father had hoped for before he passed away. But still, was Michael a girl? Was he truly, deep down, a full-fledged female? Melissa felt conflicted by the very idea of it. On one hand she had always secretly wanted a daughter, and truly was disappointed when she first found out Michael was to be a boy. On the other hand, he had always been her son, and deep down that’s truly how she thought of him . . . right?
Even still, as she looked at the bright and colorful dresses, blouses, skirts, and rompers that adorned the page in front of her, she couldn’t help but wish that she did have the daughter she always wanted. Outside of her deceased husband, a gentle soul she’d dated since the 10th grade and eventually married, she had rarely been able to relate to men. To her, most of them seemed rude, crass, and most of all obnoxious. If she were to give Michael what she truly felt he needed, could it really be in his best interest to . . . ?
“Your scrip is ready now Ms. Harper!” The voice of the pharmacist suddenly broke Melissa from her train of thought. “I just need you to sign for it and you’re good to go.”
“Al...Alright! I’m coming!” Melissa replied, once she remembered where she actually was. She returned to the counter and signed for the small orange bottle of pills. Grabbing the pills and checking to make sure they were the correct ones, she thanked the pharmacist for her troubles.
“Again,” the pharmacist told her, “congratulations. You’re on the start of a beautiful journey!”
-
As Melissa left the building, she stared daggers as she passed the loitering boys who were still standing out front, none of them able to make direct eye contact with her.
The sound of the minivan door slamming awakened Michael from his backseat nap. “Mmm...Mom? Is that you? Are we home yet?” He asked groggily.
Melissa once again looked him over tenderly in the rear view mirror. Michael could tell she was deep in thought about something, but he did not have the slightest idea about what. Melissa sighed and shook her head. “No honey, Mommy just had to make a stop real quick. Sorry if I woke you up from your little nap. You looked so peaceful back there. We’ll be home in a minute or two, so don’t you worry about a thing. Just lay your adorable little head back down and go back to your nap.”
Michael shrugged and once again closed his eyes. A few minutes later, the car pulled into the driveway and they arrived back at the house. Getting out of the van and opening its side door, Melissa tapped Michael on the shoulders and told him to follow her inside. When he went to unbuckle his seatbelt, he was surprised when he felt Melissa lower her hand and began to unbuckle it for him. Without even asking, she took one of his hands in hers, and with another arm on his shoulder, began gently guiding him out of the car.
“Mom, I’m fifteen years old. I know how to unbuckle a seatbelt!” Michael whined.
Melissa just giggled. “I know that, honey. Mommy just felt like helping you a little, that’s all.”
Michael rolled his eyes, but he was further embarrassed when she did not seem to let go of her grip on his hand. With a playful pat on his butt, she led him up the driveway and through the front door, where Michael excitedly began running up the stairs to his bedroom, eager to hop back onto his Switch and resume the game of Mario Kart he had been playing with his friends earlier. Anything, really, to not have to think too hard about the events of the day.
“Hold on for just one minute!” Melissa said, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Before you go running back up there to rot your brain in front of that television, there’s one more thing that we need to do.”
“Ugh, what now!” Michael barked in frustration. Hadn’t he already been through enough today? Apparently not.
“You’ll see,” was the only response he got as he was once again dragged by the hand into the living room, where Melissa wordlessly guided him to the couch. She sat down onto it and gave him an inviting smile, patting her lap as if telling him to sit on it. This confused Michael, as he had not sat on his mother’s lap since he was a child. In his confusion, he hardly noticed her pulling him closer until he was quickly losing his balance and falling into her matronly embrace.
Melissa wrapped her arms around the confused teen, who was now firmly in her clutches. and showered him with kisses. “Oh my sweet baby boy, it’s been too long since we’ve cuddled like this, don’t you think?” Melissa began, holding Michael dearly as he struggled desperately to escape. It was of little use, however. She was much stronger than he ever was. Melissa only cooed in response at his pathetic attempt, and continued talking to him as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “From now on, as part of your therapy, we’re going to have a half hour of bonding time like this every day. I know the world can be so hard for you, so it’s important that I show you how much Mommy loves you. From here on out I’m going to be giving my special little guy lots and lots of affection! Dr Thurman thinks that more bonding time between the two of us will help you break down those silly walls you put up and soften you up a little. I’m just glad I get to spend more time with my little boy again!”
Michael was aghast. The look on his face was one of pure shock as he continued to fruitlessly struggle for his freedom. “Soften me up?” he whined, “What do you mean, soften me up?”
Melissa grabbed the pacifier Michael had been using earlier from her blouse pocket and forced it into his mouth. He attempted to spit it out, but she simply held it there until he gave up and began suc-king on it. At that same moment, his body went limp with defeat. Melissa, finally sensing that he had been adequately tamed, adjusted his body so he was now sitting up and began to stroke his hair.
“Well baby, as you can see, the therapy is only going to work if you can set aside your ego and let mommy give you all the wonderful love and nurturing that she knows you need. If you keep thinking of yourself like a big boy and letting your pride get in the way, you’re never going to get in the right headspace for the therapy to work, and you’re never going to get better. As far as you’re concerned, you need to spend lots of time with mommy because mommy knows best, and it’s going to be very hard to give my baby boy what he needs if he’s constantly fighting me every step of the way. You need to get used to Mommy being in charge. You’re not as big as you think you are, and you’re never going to be able to accept yourself until you stop trying to be something you’re not! You’re not a big boy, you’re mommy’s precious little baby!”
Michael wanted to spit out the pacifier and object, but just as he was about to do so, Melissa pulled him in tighter and began to rock him back and forth. “Shhhhh . . . don’t fight me on this, baby! Just embrace it and I promise you’ll feel better. Can’t you do that for mommy? Can’t you just let her hold you for a few minutes and see how you feel afterwards?”
Michael looked into Melissa’s loving blue eyes, which were staring directly into his inches from his face. He had to admit, a part of him did enjoy the positive attention, and he loved his mother enough to not want to disappoint her. Still, cuddling with his mother at the age of fifteen? Wasn’t he a bit old for this sort of thing?
“Umm . . . I dunno, Mom . . .” Michael stammered nervously, unsure of how to respond, and cringing at how dumb his words sounded while he was muffled by the pacifier that he still held in his mouth. Melissa did not avert her gaze, however, and after a few moments her sad, puppy dog eyes began to dig their heels into his fragile sense of guilt. “I guess we can try it for a few minutes,” he squeaked, “but it just feels . . . weird.”
The look of sadness on Melissa’s face quickly disappeared, and a warm, content smile re-appeared in its place. It was a good enough answer for now.
“That’s what I like to hear, honey,” she whispered softly into his ear, re-affirming her vice-like grip on his body now that she had the answer she desired. Michael, however, began to wonder if he made the right choice when she then grabbed his pacifier, which he had moved to the side of his mouth slightly to be able to talk, and re-positioned it firmly in the middle of his lips. His look of concern was unmatched by Melissa, who now looked completely confident that she had gotten what she wanted. She began stroking his hair as she continued to whisper.
“I really miss this, you know. I used to love holding you like this when you were younger. It just feels so right to have my little boy sitting on my lap again, right where he belongs. Do you remember those times, darling? Back when you used to depend on mommy for everything? You were quite the needy little one back then. Always running to your mommy in tears, crying over every little thing that upset you. But then mommy would hold you close and make it all better, wouldn’t she? Just a few minutes on mommy’s lap, a couple kisses on the cheek, maybe a lullaby, and presto! No more tears for my little cuddle bug! If only things were so simple these days. Now I’m lucky if you even give me a hug before you leave the house . . .”
Melissa did not seem to notice Michael’s embarrassment as he squirmed uncomfortably on her lap. She was just happy to have her little boy back where she wanted him. Michael’s face grew a crimson shade of red when she then reached down and kissed his forehead, her grip on him somehow growing even tighter and more indulgent as she did so.
“Honey, can you do me a favor?” Melissa asked him suddenly in a voice that almost seemed as if she was talking to another version of him somewhere deep in her nostalgic state.
“Mmm-hmm” Michael responded, his voice muffled by the pacifier. Judging by the events that had so far transpired today, he was rightfully worried where this might be headed.
“I know this may sound strange, but I think it’d be good for you to start calling me Mommy again. A big part of your new therapy is to help teach you that you don’t have to do everything alone; that you have people who love you and want to help you, and I think if you started calling me Mommy again it would help you remember that I’ll always be there for you when you need me, and that you don’t need to try to be more independent than you’re capable of being. You’ll always be my beautiful baby boy, and I want you to know that you can come to your mommy for anything. Do you think you can do that, sweet pea?”
Michael thought about it for a second. He didn’t like the sound of this one bit. All this time, he had thought that the point of his therapy was to help him grow and develop as a person, yet all these new treatments seemed to do was regress him even further. Now his mother wanted him to start calling her mommy again, just like he did when he was a toddler. It was all very confusing, and yet at the same time he had no reason not to believe her. Devoid of many real friends or close acquaintances throughout most of his life, Michael’s relationship with his mother was one of the closest ones he had. Even with all of the uncertainty that today had brought him, if he could be sure of one thing, it was that Melissa loved him very much, and that she never had anything but his best interest in mind. Michael let out a deep sigh.
“Do I have to, Mom?” He asked with a mild whimper. There was no point in even asking, really. Melissa always got what she wanted from him eventually.
“Please honey? Can’t you just do this one thing? Mommy is working so, so hard to help make you feel better. All I want is to make sure my little pumpkin gets everything he needs. If not for you, then can you at least do it for me?” Once again, she was giving him a pleading expression with her puppy dog eyes.
-
It was all too much guilt for Michael. As humiliating as her proposition was, it was just too painful to see his mother so sad. Michael’s eyes fell downward so that he was no longer looking at Melissa. What he was about to do next was just too embarrassing.
“Fine . . . I guess I can call you Mommy.” Michael finally conceded.
“Thank you so much, baby.” Melissa responded with a sigh of relief. “This’ll all work out for the best, you’ll see. By the time this is over you’ll be so much happier. You’ll come to love spending time with your Mommy again, I promise. Or at least I hope so, because your Mommy is going to love spending more time with you! I’m so excited, it’ll be just like old times! Whenever you’re sad or lonely you’ll just tug on my shirt and say ‘Mommy, I need snuggles’, and after a few minutes of cuddle time on Mommy’s lap you’ll be feeling good as new in no time. No more sulking away all alone in your room , nu-uh and no-sir-ee. From now on, Mommy is going to give her little boy all the attention he needs!”
Michael wanted to respond somehow, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead he just continued looking at the floor, eventually giving her a sheepish and somewhat muffled “Okay, Mommy,” around the teat of his pacifier.
Melissa squealed with delight. Apparently this response was enough for her. “See? You’re already getting the hang of it! What a clever little baby you are!”
Her knee began to move up and down excitedly, rhythmically bouncing Michael up and down along with it. Partly embarrassed, he was also just glad that he had spared her a great deal of heartache. Even if this was torture for him, at least she seemed to be getting something positive out of it.
“Alright honey,” Melissa continued once the excitement had died down, “I know today has been a long day and a lot has happened, so I just want you to lie there and suc-k your pacifier for a few more minutes. It’ll be good for you to relax and get used to the feeling of being safe in Mommy’s arms. After a few minutes I’ll let you go, but I want you to just get as comfortable as possible and try not to think about any of your problems, okay? Just concentrate on how warm and comfortable you feel here in my lap and let all of your troubles melt away. Think you can do that?”
Michael nodded. He would spend the next twenty minutes or so remaining in Melissa’s embrace. Very few words were exchanged for the remainder of their bonding session, but as time went on and Michael got more comfortable, his worries did indeed seem to slip away. Melissa could feel the barriers in his mind begin to break down when his grip around her finally became tighter and he nestled his head ever so slightly deeper into her shoulder. She tried not to show it, but she was the most excited she had been in years. She had expected more resistance. It was not supposed to be this easy, and yet there he was, moving ever so deeper into her embrace. For the next few minutes she would cherish what had just returned to her, stroking his hair and lovingly patting him on the back, grateful for the bond they were now re-developing and hopeful for what the future would bring.
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I'm thinking this story will find our protaganist pitted against a vast platypus conspiracy forcing all of these kids into diapers and being conditioned into the lives of 6 month old babies in every way, hands kept in mittens because these children can't use their fingers, sleeping in baby cribs as all 6 month olds do, being fed bottles of formula and baby foods suitable for 6 month olds only. The time not spent half the day from 8am to 8pm plus two more morning and afternoon naptimes for an hour each. The time time not spent not napping in the crib or being fed in their highchair, will be spent in their playpen both learning to crawl safely on the soft padded cushion and learning how to play with their baby toys placed within or mounted the side of the playpen, though care should be made to make sure all of the toys are safe for older then 6 month old unless they choke themselves by putting something small in their mouth. :)
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I was hoping that after Nurse Linda finished breastfeeding Michael, he would then taken away to be given a bath. Following that, the nurse's assistants would put him in diapers and a baby dress. In chapter five, his mom doesn't once refer to him as a baby girl. only her baby boy. So, this is confusing. I am thinking that the prescription his mom got at the pharmacy is to induce lactation. If Michael is to be transformed into a girl, they need to start hormone regimen right away to be effective. It would be better if he were 13 instead of 15.
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Thanks for the feedback and comments, everyone. It's cool to see where others would have taken the story from various stopping points. As for Melissa (the mom) and how she refers to her child, well, that's an ongoing process, and a question we're going to see her struggle with more in future chapters. Apologies if it's confusing now. It wasn't meant to be confusing to readers, but how she sees/refers to her child is meant to be an ongoing process for her.
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Count me in as another upvote. Well written, and hitting all the right notes and themes. You two make a good team, can't wait for the rest of the story, and hopefully more down the line.
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Your wonderful story just keeps gets better and better. I especially liked the scene were Nurse Linda breastfed the little one. There is nothing more embarrassing or humiliating to a teenage boy then to suc-kle from the breasts of a domineering older women. His hard little tinkle trapped in it's cage, with no way to satisfy his overpowering lust.
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CHAPTER SIX -- DOCTOR THURMAN’S SECOND VISIT
Michael wasn’t happy at all about how the morning was unfolding. It was the last weekend before sophomore year started, and Lauren and her friends had invited Michael to spend the day with them at the mall. On the one hand, Michael knew that a trip to the mall with Lauren and her friends would mean mostly being ignored while the girls talked about the jock boys at school they had crushes on and took what felt like an hour to look at each and every dress in the mall. On the other hand, at least it would be time with his peers. It would be time out of the house, time he could feel normal and get a break from the weird routine of the last several weeks.
But during those last few weeks--the time since his first trip to A Caring Place--Michael had gotten very little of what he wanted. Glumly, he wondered why he was even surprised when his mom--or Mommy, as he glumly remembered he had to call her now--had told Lauren, over the phone, that he couldn’t go to the mall today because they were having a very important visitor over.
At least the blinds were closed over the big picture window in the living room. They’d been open this morning, when Michael’s Mommy had first brought him into the room, and he’d begged and begged and begged her to close them, telling her he’d die of embarrassment if Lauren came out of her house across the street and saw him dressed this way. Responding to her son’s protest, Melissa said dismissively that there was nothing wrong with the way Michael was dressed, and that in fact, Michael looked beautiful this morning. Michael hated when she said stuff like that, but at least she closed the blinds!
No matter what his Mommy said, Michael didn’t want anyone seeing him dressed as he was now. Looking down at his body, he was slightly comforted by the fact that he was wearing totally normal white sneakers--boys’ sneakers!--and white mid-calf socks. His shirt was also normal, a white t-shirt with a picture of Marvel’s Spider-Man on it. It was what covered the lower half of his body that made Michael cringe: his Mommy had dressed him in a pair of pull-ups! Even worse, they were pull-ups clearly made for a girl! They were mostly pink, with some lavender trim, and this particular pair had a picture of Ariel from The Little Mermaid on them. Michael was mortified at the thought of his new doctor--or anyone, really--seeing him in them, but his Mommy had shushed away his protests, saying that of course Dr. Thurman knew all about his treatment and that there was nothing to be embarrassed about!Michael hated when she said that--there’s nothing to be embarrassed about!
--as though it could possibly be true! After all, she wasn’t the one sitting there in a princess pull-up! Sitting, Michael would add, on the floor! When he’d walked into the room, he’d gone to the couch and started to sit down on it, only to have his Mommy intercept him and say that it would probably be better if he sat on the floor, “just in case” he leaked! Michael had huffed and rolled his eyes at that, insisting that she knew that he did not have leaks and did not need pull-ups! But, as was so often the case at home lately, Melissa had ignored his whining and slid his pacifier in his mouth, reminding him that there would be hell to pay if he took it out of his mouth on his own. Michael wasn’t sure why, but his mom was clearly nervous about this meeting. Whoever this Dr. Thurman woman was, his Mommy sure wanted to impress her. She’d cleaned the house three times over this week, and had given Michael what felt like a zillion warnings to be on his best behavior during her visit.
Sitting on the floor of the living room, suc-king on his pacifier and feeling entirely absurd in this outfit that was half normal and half infantile, Michael wondered exactly how he was supposed to behave. On the floor in front of him was a pile of some of his old childhood toys that his Mommy had dug out of storage. Did she really expect him to play with Matchbox cars and superhero action figures? He’d been excited when she handed him an iPad, but he immediately felt dejected when he opened it and saw that the only game on it was some sort of basic geography review program. Its whole aesthetic looked to be for middle schoolers, or kids even younger than that, beckoning a player to review state capitals in bright, flashing, cartoon-y lettering.
That’s where Michael was--sitting on the floor in a pink princess pull-up, suc-king his pacifier, and wondering what to do with himself--when the doorbell rang. He heard his Mommy rush to the door and then some distant sounds of greetings and small talk. He felt completely stupid and humiliated and on display as his Mommy and Dr. Thurman walked into the room. Michael had seen Dr. Thurman only once before, from a distance, and he hadn’t paid much attention to her. Now, though, he could hardly miss her. From his point of view sitting on the floor, she was tall and thin and wore an immaculately tailored suit jacket and matching pencil skirt. She was not large breasted, but she was very pretty in a severe, no-nonsense kind of way. She wore black-rimmed glasses and her dark, naturally red hair was pulled back in a tight, slick ponytail with not a single hair out of place. He immediately felt intimidated by her.
“Well,” Dr. Thurman said with a smirk, looking at Michael, “I see mommy’s little breastfeeder is back in pull-ups.” Michael’s face exploded in shame at being called a breastfeeder. Yes, his Mommy had taken him back to A Caring Place for regular feedings from Nurse Linda every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday since his first visit, but the way Dr. Thurman said it, it sounded so unfair! It sounded like what he fundamentally was, instead of just this weird thing that his Mommy made him do.
“Yes,” Melissa said, laughing a little. “The pull-ups are quite the story!”
“I can’t wait to hear it!” Dr. Thurman said as she sat down on the couch. Her expensive-looking red bottom high-heeled shoes were not far from where Michael was sitting on the carpet. They were so shiny and black they looked like liquid oil. He stared at them because he could not make or maintain eye contact with the doctor, who was motioning for him to come closer.
Melissa stood over Michael and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, baby,” she cooed. “Let’s let Dr. Thurman take a look at you.” Positioned in front of the doctor, Michael wilted, wishing the ground could swallow him whole. Dr. Thurman’s gaze seemed to pierce right through him. He couldn’t imagine being able to keep any secrets from this woman, and right now she was clearly not pleased.
“What’s this?” Dr. Thurman said with a grimace, reaching out to touch his Spider-Man shirt. “Why do you let her wear tomboyish things like this?”
Melissa, sitting next to the doctor on the couch, laughed nervously. “You sound just like Nurse Linda with all that girl talk.”
“It’s not talk,” Dr. Thurman snapped. “It’s the truth. Linda--who is, without a doubt, the most talented and caring wet nurse I have ever worked with--knows the truth. And so do I.”
“It’s just that . . . ” Melissa stammered. Michael was thrilled to hear his Mommy defend his masculinity, though he did wish she sounded a little more convinced! “I mean, he is a boy.”
“Melissa,” Dr. Thurman said, radiating displeasure, “if you’re not ready to face the truth yet, so be it. But I’ve told you: letting your daughter dress like a little tomboy is counter-productive. It’s actively damaging to her, it undermines the sense of her true self we are trying to develop, and I will not stand for it when I visit. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Melissa said, quickly standing up, grabbing Michael’s shirt tail, and pulling it off over his head, leaving the blushing boy standing in front of the two women in only his Ariel pull-up, socks and sneakers. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Doctor. I’m -- we are -- Michael and I both -- we are so grateful that you agreed to work with us. I -- I guess I just forgot about the . . . the tomboy clothing thing.”
Michael felt anything but grateful to this crazy, stern woman who was ordering his mother around, but Dr. Thurman, for her part, instantly seemed to calm down and cheer up. She took Melissa’s hand and held it in her own. “It’s okay, Melissa. It’s a long-term project we’re engaged in, and I know that many steps along the way will feel strange at first.”
Melissa nodded. “Yes, but it’s just like you said -- with the breastfeeding, I mean.”
“Yes, she’s suc-kling from Linda? Three times a week?”
“Yes,” Melissa said. “About an hour each session, all told. I’ve been amazed. It’s not just the feeding. Linda changes Michael out of his bo -- well, out of the clothes he wears to A Caring Place. Then there’s a lot of holding him and cooing to him. Often, she’ll expose one of her nipples and just have Michael stare it for a time before he nurses. He cries, every time!”
“Of course she does,” Dr. Thurman said. “Little girls like Michael fight the truth of what they are so hard that even when someone gives them permission to be their helpless little girly self, well, the shame can be overwhelming, even though its exactly what they need.”
-
It was weird for Michael to stand there and listen. He already felt exposed physically, and now, as he heard Dr. Thurman explain his own reactions better than he himself could, he felt psychologically stripped bare as well.
“Michael sleeps so well too,” Melissa says. “Every time. Every day I’ve taken him for a nursing session, he’s out like a light before Linda even finishes. Then it’s home for some cuddle time with Mommy and an early bedtime of 9:30 PM.”
“Not early enough,” Dr. Thurman said, chilling Michael, “but it’s a start. And her anxiety is better?”
“Oh yes,” Melissa gushed. “That’s seemed much, much better. Though I am worried about school starting next week. That tends to be when the real stress kicks in for Michael.”
“Don’t worry,” the doctor said. “I have some proposals about school that I want to discuss with you before I leave this afternoon. But before we get into that, tell me about Little Miss Priss here and how she ended up in pull-ups.”
“Well, as you recommended, I’ve kept Michael in 24/7 chastity since our first visit to A Caring Place.”
Dr. Thurman nodded in approval. “May I see?”
“Of course,” Melissa said. Michael squealed into his pacifier and stamped his feet to protest, but in under two seconds, his mother had slid his pull-up down his smooth legs. He stood before the two women naked except for socks, shoes, a pull-up at his ankles, a pacifier . . . and of course the pale lavender cage that had become both his constant companion and his worst foe these last few weeks.
“Good,” Dr. Thurman said, reaching out and cupping Michael’s tiny, smooth nutsack. Not even the hint of a hair had grown back on it in the two weeks since Nurse Victoria’s treatment. He squealed at the shocking touch of her cool fingers, and his tiny coc-k mashed itself against the limits of its cage, straining to get hard. “Far too many parents think they can just put the cage on for a nursing session and then take it off when done. It’s a hassle, it’s messy, it’s time consuming, and it sends conflicting messages to the baby girl being nursed. Parents who are truly committed to the process know that erections and--God forbid--ejaculations are absolutely forbidden for baby girls. You are committed to the process, aren’t you, Melissa?”
“Mommy!” Michael blurted out around his pacifier, “tell her I’m not a girl!” But between the intensity of his panic and the pacifier, his words came out mumbled and muffled.
“Hush, Michael!” Melissa said, slapping one of his bare thighs. “And yes, Doctor Thurman. Yes. I am absolutely committed! Absolutely, 100%! I mean, just the changes that I’ve seen in Michael in this short time . . . ”
“Yes,” the doctor said, looking down at the pull-up bunched around Michael’s ankles. “So, she’s already wetting during the daytime?” Something in the way she said that baffled Michael. This doctor was so stern, but right then she’d sounded happy, elated even. Hopeful. Why would she want him to be . . . ?
“Oh, no,” Melissa said, and Michael could see the crestfallen look on Dr. Thurman’s face when she realized that his pull-up was dry. “No, Michael isn’t wetting during the day. I mean, not really.”
“Not really?”
“Well, it’s the cage, Doctor,” Melissa explained. “I made it very clear to Michael, when we got home after his first nursing session, that his new chastity cage meant that he would need to pee sitting down.”
“Ahhhh,” Dr. Thurman said, “and I assume she didn’t listen?”
“He did the first few times, because I was there to supervise him. But when I let him get back to using the bathroom on his own, well,” Melissa said, absent-mindedly stroking the thigh she’d slapped earlier, “someone thought he was a big boy who could still stand up to pee.”
I am a boy, Michael thought, even though he didn’t feel very manly at all at the moment.
Dr. Thurman laughed knowingly: “I’m sorry you had to clean that up.”
Michael cringed remembering it. When his piss stream had kicked in, the slit in the end of his cage was not lined up correctly relative to his weiner, and the cage had splattered his urine everywhere: on the commode seat (which he hadn’t remembered to raise), on the lip of the tub next to the toilet, on the floor in front of toilet, on the tank itself, and of course all over himself. After their first visit to A Caring Place, Melissa had let him dress pretty normally at home, except for the cage of course, and his khaki shorts and red fire engine print boxers had both been totally soaked. There was no way to fix it, and, once the stream started, no way to stop it. He knew instantly that he was going to be in a world of trouble. Embarrassed, wet, and scared of the punishment to come, he’d immediately started crying.
“It wasn’t fun,” Melissa said. “But I think we learned an important lesson.”
“And as for discipline? As we discussed?"
“Yes, doctor, exactly as you said.”
Michael was fascinated now, learning that his Mommy had reacted according to this doctor’s instructions. He’d cried that day partly because he felt gross and ashamed, and partly because he expected to get his bottom paddled after having to clean up his own mess. That’s what had always happened in the past when he’d left the seat down and gotten even a few drops of urine on the commode, and this was 100 times worse than that! Sure enough, his Mommy’s face looked furious when she came in to see why he was crying, but then, all of a sudden, her anger dropped, and she’d begun to baby-talk him, telling him it was okay, that Mommy was here now, and that Mommy was going to make it all better. She got out a pack of wet wipes, stripped him bare below the waist and cleaned him up, singing a little song as she did so, a song Michael hadn’t heard since he was a little, little kid. Then, with Michael still bare from the waist down except for his cage, Melissa had snuggled him on the couch and insisted that they have some “Mommy-Baby” time. As she held him and rocked him, she’d told him she knew he couldn’t help it and that from now on there would be some new rules in the house.
“So, pull-ups during the day?” Dr. Thurman asked.
“Yes, here in the house anyways,” Melissa said. “I don’t make him wear them when he goes across the street to play with Lauren.” Dr. Thurman frowned, but said nothing, and Melissa continued: “And now that we’re in pull-ups,” she said, playfully pulling the pair at Michael’s ankles back up his legs and fitting them around his waist, “we have to tell Mommy when we need to pee-pee or poo-poo don’t we, baby? Yes, we have to tell Mommy about pee-pees and poo-poos because Mommy has to come in and supervise us and make sure we stay all clean, doesn’t she?”
Melissa was beaming as she engaged in this cloying baby talk, but it all filled Michael with despair. He was 15! He was about to be a sophomore in high school! It was humiliating to have his Mommy come in the bathroom with him, and it was humiliating to wear pull-ups around the house! Girls’ pull-ups, no less. Michael had no idea what craziness had come over his Mommy in recent weeks, but he’d resolved to have a good 10th grade year in response to it! All of this craziness was happening at home, or at A Caring Place. No one at school knew about it, thank God! He could go to school and be normal and all he needed to do, he figured, was be mature and responsible and do his homework. And the rest of his puberty had to come soon, didn’t it? His Mommy--er, his Mom, he reminded himself--just needed to see him be the man of the house, and then all this crazy baby girl stuff will stop!
Lost in thought, Michael barely paid attention as Dr. Thurman said goodbye to him. But as she and Melissa retired to the kitchen to have what they called “grown up talk,” Michael’s stomach sank as he heard his Mommy ask, “Now, Dr. Thurman, you said you had some ideas about the school year?
-
“Hey, look!” Travis Richardson yelled. “Little Shrimp went to beauty school over the summer!” The pack of varsity baseball players trailing behind their team captain erupted in laughter as they passed by the tree-covered courtyard outside the arts building, where Michael was eating lunch with Lauren and her friends. Michael blushed so hard he could feel it in his face.
“Travis Richardson!” Lauren shouted as he passed, “you leave Mikey alone! He’s actually a really good French braider!”
Michael was generally grateful for the protective role Lauren played in his life on campus, but he cringed at the nature of this particular defense, since hair-braiding wasn’t the manliest of skills. Travis Richardson was a senior and a three-sport varsity athlete. He stood well over six feet and always had a rotating cast of girlfriends: girls he dated, not friends who were girls. He was, in other words, everything Michael was not. And at the present moment, the contrast between them couldn’t be clearer. Travis and his senior bros were on their way to their cars, about to head off campus for lunch, while Michael, a sophomore, was perched on the grass behind Lauren’s friend Heather, his hands full of her partially-French-braided jet black hair.
“Hey!” Heather snapped, feeling Mike’s hands cease moving. “No one told you to stop! And you better not screw my braid up!”
“Heather,” Lauren said in a mildly scolding tone. “Be nice.” Lauren and her friends had PE later that afternoon, and they’d heard they were going to have to run the track. So it was decided that they needed their hair braided. Lauren’s blond hair was being worked on by her friend Janisse, a beautiful dark-skinned Black girl who was easily one of the smartest students in their grade. That left Heather without a hair braider, until she’d looked at Michael and told him to make himself useful. Since the girls--mildly annoyed to find Michael underfoot every time they hung out with Lauren--had forced him to learn how to braid hair over the summer, he couldn’t rightly refuse.
“I wish Travis Richardson would let me be nice to him,” Heather joked, grinning wide. Michael felt his whole body burn with jealousy as Lauren and Janisse laughed in agreement and talked about how fine Travis was, how big his biceps were and how good his butt looked in tight jeans. Heather had a bit of a reputation as a wild-child party girl, but she was drop-dead gorgeous. All of Lauren’s friends were! And of course Lauren herself was the most beautiful of them all. Michael masturbated nightly while thinking about all three of them--or at least he had before his Mommy had taken him to A Caring Place and gotten that damned cage put on! Now he couldn’t jerk off, ever! And no matter what he seemed to do, these three smoking hot girls saw him as a friend and nothing more.
“What do you think, Mikey?” Heather asked with a sneer that Michael could hear even if he couldn’t see it. “Is Travis Richardson the hottest boy in school? Or do you have a crush on some other big, strong boy? Maybe Jeremy McClinton is more your style? Do you like basketball players or baseball boys?”
“I -- I’m not gay,” Michael said softly.
“Well--” Janisse said, cutting off what was surely going to be a mean reply from Heather, “you know it would be okay with us if you were, right?”
“Yeah, Mikey,” Lauren said, “you know it’s okay to be yourself around us, right?”
Michael’s mind reeled, and, as so often happened, he said nothing and the girls went back to talking amongst themselves like he was not even there. He was offended by what the girls were implying about him, but the gentle tone in Lauren’s voice made him ache, physically and emotionally. Truth be told, he really needed someone to be gentle with him right now. Despite his high hopes for a fresh start, Michael’s sophomore year was not off to a good start. This year, Michael was determined to show his Mommy--and Lauren and her friends--that he was a big boy, that he could grow up and be independent and do well in school and not cry every day. But now, almost a month into sophomore year, Michael was finding that naming his goal was much, much easier than actually accomplishing it.
It doesn’t help, he thought, grimacing as he continued braiding Heather’s hair, when my Mommy keeps acting like she does. Not only had Michael’s regular visits to A Caring Place continued, cuddle time with Mommy had too. And Michael’s Mommy had begun to treat him even more childishly than she had before. From insisting that she be the one to do things like grab his snacks from the cupboard, to banning him from watching PG-13 movies (she claimed they could “disturb” him into losing progress on his therapy), to holding his hand whenever they crossed the road; Michael put up little to no resistance as his world became more and more restrictive by the day. The worst part was, Mommy seemed to have a built in excuse for pretty much everything. When he complained that she started picking out his clothes for him, she claimed it was because he always took too long to decide. When he whined about her cleaning his face with a washcloth after every meal, she would casually remark that he was too much of a messy eater, and she couldn’t let her little boy run around looking like a slob, now could she?
The worst of it came one day when Michael accidentally knocked over a cup full of grape juice. From then on, his mother made it a rule that he had to drink everything from a children’s plastic sippy cup. Worse still, she’d started feeding him warm milk from a sippy cup when they spent time on the couch together. This, perhaps more than anything else, made Michael feel like he was slowly being turned into an overgrown infant; although at this point he was just relieved she wasn’t making him use a full blown baby bottle. Why he continued to put up with it, he could not tell you. To listen to his Mommy explain it, as she often did looking down on him while he nursed from the sippy cup, Michael’s cooperation with her changes was proof that it was somehow relieving to him to have his mother take the lead again.
That’s why school was so important to him this year: It was a chance to prove Mommy wrong. School was time away from home and from A Caring Place. It was time to be with his peers, to be a high school student, to be normal, to not think about the fact that he was a breastfeeding, pull-up wearing fifteen year old. And Michael just knew that if he could make school work--if he could have a year where he made good grades and didn’t cry every day and maybe even got Lauren to date him--well his Mommy and Nurse Linda would have no choice but to see him as the grown up young adult he knew he was!
Or could be.
Or at least wanted to be.
The problem was that tenth grade didn’t seem to be coming any easier to Michael than 9th grade had. Never one who was good with schedules, Michael spent most of the first week going to the wrong class during the wrong period. These flub-ups inevitably resulted in wet eyes on his part as the teacher whose room he’d arrived in patiently tried to explain the schedule to him again and walked him to where he was supposed to be. And the work! Oh my God, Michael had thought his teachers might have waited a week or two to let students ease into being sophomores, but no! The homework was piled thick and deep from day one, and Michael was shocked to learn that there had been summer reading assignments his Mommy had not even told him about!
“Hey!” Heather snapped at Michael, jarring him back to reality. “It’s done. Just put the hair tie on it and finish it.”
“Heather,” Lauren said in that indulgent tone of voice she always used for her wilder friend, “you could thank Michael for the nice job he did. Your hair looks great.”
Michael’s emotions exploded with gratitude when Lauren praised him, but crashed again as Heather said, “Yeah, it looks fine. I just don’t need him sitting there touching my hair like some perv after he’s finished. Little dweeb is probably filling up his spank bank with the memories!”
Janisse and Heather giggled, and Lauren shook her head. “Mikey’s not gross like that, are you, Mikey?” she asked.
“N--no!” Michael stammered.
“That’s our Mikey,” Janisse said. “Just one of the girls.”
Michael could hear the kindness in Janisse’s voice. She was always so nice to him, and he knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him. Nevertheless, her words stung. Why did so many women in his life see him as a girl?
The truth was, of course, that Michael had once jacked off--regularly and furiously--thinking about Janisse and Heather and especially Lauren, but right now, thwarted by the tiny lavender cage his Mommy would not even discuss releasing him from, he hadn’t jacked off in well over a month. He was ravenously horny, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it, despite the hours he’d spent alone in his room, fruitlessly trying to figure out some way to escape the cage.
That’s another thing that doesn’t help, Michael thought, ruefully. How am I supposed to feel grown up when I have to come to school in a chastity cage and a pair of princess pull-ups? Today’s pair had Mulan on them, and as Michael shifted his weight around on the ground he was sitting on, he could feel their crinkly heft holding him softly under both the boxer shorts his Mommy let him wear over his pull-up and the pair of short, khaki shorts she’d dressed him in on top of that. Michael had been horrified when his Mommy made it clear that he would need to wear his pull-ups to school. He’d cried and screamed and tried to explain how he would die of mortification if anyone at school ever found out about them, but his Mommy had held firm. “Right now,” she’d said, stroking his hair as she held him curing a tearful cuddle session, “you’re going to get to wear your big boy boxer shorts over them, but if you keep on being fussy with Mommy, then Mommy can take your boxer shorts away. Is that what you want?” It was not what Michael wanted, but with a sippy cup of milk pushed into his mouth, all he could do was swallow, not answer.
“Hey, sweet pea,” Lauren said, sitting down next to Michael and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“M -- me? I -- yeah, I -- I’m fine.”
“Really?” Lauren asked, “you’ve seemed preoccupied all during lunch. What are you worried about? That quiz in Spanish later today?”
Michael felt himself flush. He’d had no idea that they had a quiz coming up in Spanish today. He thought that was next week, and he hadn’t studied even one bit! And while he felt grateful that Lauren paid attention to him enough to see that he was worried, what could he really tell her? Lauren was his dream-girl, his childhood crush. He couldn’t remember ever NOT being in love with her. She was perfect: tall and blond and lightly freckled in this beautiful way and she’d hit puberty early and had big breasts and best of all, she’d always been protective of him. She’d never shunned him the way all of the boys and most of the girls did. He’d die, absolutely die, if she ever found out about the baby treatment he was getting at home and at A Caring Place. What was he supposed to say?: Well, my Mom--who I have to call Mommy now--has me in a chastity cage and makes me wear little girls’ pull-ups to school under my boxers and I’m terrified that you’ll find out or that anyone will find out and it makes changing for PE hell because I’m terrified that my boxers will slip too low or ride up too high and expose my pull-up when I’m dressing out and I can’t pee standing up anymore and even if I could I can’t let anyone see this cage that’s locked on me so I have to time my bathroom visits really carefully during the day and that’s mostly what I’m worried about but yeah, now that you mention it, I’m also going to fail this Spanish quiz I didn’t even know we had? “Yeah,” Michael finally squeaked. “Just worried about that Spanish quiz.”
“Silly bear!” Lauren smiled, bopping Michael playfully on the nose. “I called your house the other night to ask if you wanted to come over and study for it, but your Mom said you’d gone to bed early.”
“You -- you did?”
“Yeah, of course. Called your cell first, and then your house’s land line when you didn’t answer! I know Spanish is hard for you, and I wanted to help.”
Michael’s Mommy had started taking his cell phone from him at 6 PM every night, citing studies about screen time increasing anxiety in teenagers, and she hadn’t even told him about Lauren’s call! He didn’t understand her at all anymore. Last year, every missing homework assignment and failed quiz was a huge event at home, with his mom -- er, Mommy -- yelling at him and telling him that his grades counted now that he was in high school and hiring tutors that never seemed to work out. This year, Mommy seemed unfazed by notifications about Michael’s missing assignments and already-low grades, often saying they needed to focus on lifting his cares before she scooped him up for another lap time session.
As Michael thanked Lauren for her concern, the bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch period. Thank God, Michael thought, I really need to pee. Because he had to sit down to pee now, and because even if he could have peed standing up, Michael would still be paranoid about anyone seeing his chastity cage, he’d fallen into a routine of carefully planning his bathroom visits. Sixth period fell right after lunch, and Michael and Lauren had Ms. Featherford’s Western World history class that period. Ms. Featherford had, apparently, once been a really good teacher, but she was well past retirement age now and frankly, she was a little senile. Unlike other, sharper, teachers, Ms. Featherford didn’t mind that Michael asked for a bathroom pass at the start of every class period. And so rather than peeing during lunch--when the boys’ room was inevitably packed--Michael had gotten into the habit of getting a bathroom pass from Ms. Featherford at the start of 6th period, and going and peeing then, when he could have some privacy.
As they said goodbye to Janisse and Heather and walked to class, Lauren instinctively put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. She often did that as they walked the hallways of school, Lauren a step behind him and guiding him, protectively, in front of her. Michael was thrilled to be touched by Lauren, but so wished she would hold his hand, which would be a gesture of romance, not of almost-big-sisterly protection. And it didn’t help that the top of his head barely came up to Lauren’s breasts!
His bladder tingling, Michael went straight to Ms. Featherford’s desk and asked for a hall pass.
“No,” the old teacher said, shuffling some papers on her desk.
“No?” Michael said in disbelief. She always said yes!
-
“You heard me,” Ms. Featherford said. “Children!” she shouted, talking over Michael’s head and addressing the whole class. “Sit down and clear your desks. We’re having a pop quiz!”
Michael’s panic rose on two fronts: he had to pee really badly, and he wasn’t prepared for this quiz. “Ms. Featherford?” he whined, “I . . . I really need to go.”
“You just sit down and take your quiz, young man,” she said dismissively. “You can get a hall pass once your quiz is turned in.”
His stomach sinking with panic and his bladder aching, Michael took his usual seat next to Lauren. Every second felt like an hour while his elderly teacher gathered up the quizzes she was about to hand out. Squirming in his seat, Michael tried, and failed, to find a position where his legs helped to relieve the pressure he was feeling.
Sitting next to him and noticing his distress, Lauren made eye contact and mouthed, “You okay?”
Michael nodded yes, and tried to convince himself he meant it. It was fine, he figured, he’d just have to fill out the quiz really quickly, grade be damned, and get the hall pass. Nothing was worth wetting his pants at school. Nothing. Everything would be fine if Ms. Featherford would just hand out the damn . . .
“Oh!” the teacher exclaimed. “Roll! Dear me, I was so excited about this quiz that I almost forgot to call the roll. Let’s see, now where did I put my gradebook?”
Michael groaned in frustration as he watched Ms. Featherford walk shakily back to her desk at the front of the room.
The girl sitting behind Lauren, Ronnie Kent, leaned forward and whispered to Lauren. “Girl, did you hear that Travis Richardson dumped Lisa Wexler?” Lauren nodded as Ronnie continued gossiping: “That means he’s dated his way through pretty much every girl in the whole senior and junior classes. I heard he might even ask a sophomore to Homecoming this fall, so maybe there’s hope for us!”
Lauren giggled, as Ms. Featherford finally began calling roll.
“Don’t you know him?” Ronnie asked Lauren. “Isn’t he in your math class or something? What if he asks you? I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re the prettiest sophomore in the whole school!”
Michael was in agony. Ronnie’s idle gossip was driving him insane with jealousy--Lauren was advanced for her grade in math, and of course Travis was stupid, so they were in the same math class--and his bladder was crying out for relief. He wanted to shout out that he was right there, that he could hear Ronnie, and that he was going to ask Lauren to Homecoming this year (though of course he hadn’t worked up the nerve yet!). He also wanted to yell at Ms. Featherford and tell her to hurry the hell up and pass these quizzes out.
“Would you go with Travis if he asked you?” Ronnie asked Lauren.
“Well, duh!” Lauren laughed. As Michael watched her bite her lower lip in a way he always found sexy, he began to worry that he really wasn’t going to make it. The edges of his vision were beginning to compress. It was harder and harder to pay attention to what was happening around him because all he could focus on was the pain in his bladder. He stared at the classroom door longingly. The bathroom was just out that door and then down the hall. So close. Why wouldn’t Ms. Featherford let him go? Why was this happening? Why had his Mommy stuck him in this stupid cage so he had to pace his bathroom visits? Why couldn’t he control himself? Why don’t I just get up?, he thought. The door is right there. Just get up. Just leave. Just go pee and deal with whatever this old bat wants to do to punish you. But he couldn’t do it. Michael had always been a rule-follower, and his teacher had told him he couldn’t leave before taking his quiz. He could feel disaster approaching, but he could not make himself stand and leave.
Finally, Ms. Featherford was through roll and began--at a snail’s pace, it seemed to Michael--to be passing out the quizzes. He was twisting and writhing in his seat by the time she got to his row of desks. To his right, he was vaguely aware of Ronnie telling Lauren that she and Travis would make a beautiful couple, and as the kid in front of him passed the quizzes back, Michael looked down at the page through watery eyes. The questions on the sheet were about Ancient Greece, and he didn’t have a clue how to answer any of them. They were drawn from homework reading he’d procrastinated on last night and then been pulled away from for Mommy-Baby cuddle time. His vision compressed further. His eyes watered more. He couldn’t see the questions anymore. He was going to fail this quiz. Travis might ask Lauren to Homecoming, and she’d say yes if he did, and his Mommy kept treating him like a baby, and he couldn’t jack off, and she made him wear stupid pink Polo shirts to school to match his stupid pink princess pull-ups and this couldn’t be happening but . . .
“Ahhhhunnnnnnnnh!” Michael wailed, much louder than he’d meant to, as he felt himself squirt a hot jet of piss out of his caged weiner and into his pull-up. It felt so obscene to be here, in class, at school, dressed normally (as far as anyone else could tell), and be peeing. Michael’s whole body flushed with shame as he tried to clamp down and stop the flow. He could tell the end of his weiner wasn’t lined up right with the slit in the end of the cage, and so he felt nasty and dirty as he’d partially peed all over himself and the inside of the cage. He gripped the edges of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white as he tried to will himself to stop pissing. It worked, but he knew it wouldn’t hold for long. His big worry now was figuring out how bad it was, if he’d leaked all the way through to his shorts. He was scared to look.
“Michael?” Lauren’s voice was soft but concerned, gentle but worried. It was the tone of her voice and the feeling of her soft, caring hand on his arm that made him snap. He no longer cared about anything other than getting away from the source of his shame. She just could not know about this! He couldn’t bear it! He bolted away from Lauren’s touch, jumping up out of his seat, pushing roughly past a stunned Ms. Featherford, and dashing out the classroom door. As he moved, he could feel himself pissing more and more. He hoped the sounds of shock and muted laughter from the room behind him covered the sound of his piss stream soaking into the crinkly folds of his girly pull-up.
Out in the hallway, he was no longer thinking. He was driven by pure instinct: the need to get away from the scene of his humiliation and the need to release a day’s worth of pee. He ran as he pissed and he pissed as he ran. His bladder finally emptying, he stopped. He’d just been running away, not really towards anything in particular, and so he was surprised to find himself outside, in a small covered walkway between the Humanities building and the gym. Looking down, his worst fears were confirmed. It wasn’t a huge spot, but some of his piss had leaked all the way through the pull up and his boxers, dotting the outside of his khaki shorts with tell-tale wetness. And somehow he was still peeing! He no longer even tried to stop it, just stood there in horror feeling the heavy weight of his now-soaked pull-up and feeling/watching a small stream of urine race down his smooth thigh, heading towards his knee and calf. He was wet. At school. He’d wet himself in class. Sitting next to Lauren. And he was wearing a pull-up. And his shorts were stained and he was going to fail his history quiz and the Spanish quiz waiting for him next period and he didn’t have a change of clothes and all he wanted to do was be normal, be a real boy and date Lauren and be good at school everyone else was good at school why wasn’t he why did he have to go and be breastfed like a baby three times a week and why did he have to wear a dumb pull up and that stupid cage and he had no idea where to go or what to do or how to help himself. Paralyzed with shock and fear, he stood there trembling, and let out a huge sob. He was tired and scared and wet and grossed out by himself and overwhelmed. He couldn’t even try to hide or put up an act anymore. All he could do was cry.
Behind him, the double doors opened and, to his horror, Lauren came through them, saying “Mikey? Mikey! Hey, there you are! What happened? Ms. Featherford gave me a hall pass and told me to come check on you and -- oh my God, did you wet your pants?”
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Poor Michael now he gonna be demoted to pampers rsr
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This story is really great. I love the slow burn.
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Thanks, SissyShellyDC. After my previous stories, I wanted to explore the sort of buildup to regression that I love so much in other works. I wasn't sure if the pacing of this story was going to be a bit slow for some, but I'm glad people are enjoying it.
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CHAPTER EIGHT--EXPOSED TO LAUREN
Michael stammered. How was he supposed to answer that? How could he even answer that? It was evidently clear to anyone who could see him exactly what had happened. Instead, he just stared down at the floor in shame and nodded. Tears soon began to well up in his eyes, and before Michael knew it, he was sobbing in a wet pull-up in front of his biggest crush.
“I didn’t mean to . . . ” He whispered to Lauren weakly, continuing to avoid looking directly at her. “I tried to ask for a hall pass from Ms. Featherford, but when she said no I . . . I . . . *sniffle* . . . I tried to hold it okay? It wasn’t my fault...it was an accident!”
He expected Lauren to act disgusted, but instead he got an entirely different response.
“Oh Mikey, how terrible! I am so, so sorry that happened!” Lauren responded empathetically. She reached out and put one arm on his shoulder in a gesture of pity. “It wasn’t right for her to deny you a hall pass like that. You must have really had to go, huh? I’m sure we’ve all been there at some point. It’s not your fault. You just couldn’t make it.”
Her words helped Michael, who was by now a weeping mess, very little. He wanted attention from Lauren, but not this kind of attention. How was she supposed to see him as a real man, or even a potential love interest, when he was standing in the halls in a pair of wet pants, being talked to like a four year old still being potty trained? He got enough of that at home from his mother.
Even still, her touch admittedly felt somewhat comforting; and after weeks of being scooped up in Melissa’s arms whenever he was upset, Michael was starting to grow much more dependent on this kind of physical intimacy than he felt comfortable with. As he stood there sobbing with Lauren’s arm around his shoulder, he couldn’t help but think about how much he needed his mother’s warm lap.
“I . . . I want my mommy!” Michael suddenly blurted out. As soon as the words left his mouth, he instantly covered it in shock.
Lauren gave him a side-eyed glance for a second, barely believing what she just heard. Eventually, she just shook her head and chuckled.
“Your mommy? Um, alright I guess.”
It was not polite to laugh, and Lauren knew it, but she really couldn’t figure out any other way to respond. He was clearly upset about the whole situation, and despite her amusement, the nurturing part of her still hated seeing him so emotionally distraught. She took one of his hands in hers and held it firmly.
“I don’t know if there’s anything your, um . . . ‘Mommy’ can do for you right now sweetheart, but maybe I can take you to the nurse and we can get you into a nice clean pair of pants. I’ll need to let Ms. Featherford know we’ll be gone for a few minutes, but don’t worry, I won’t let anybody else know. This’ll be our little secret.”
Michael wanted to object and tell Lauren that there was no need for that, since he was clearly capable of walking to the nurse’s office by himself, but before he knew it she had already run inside to inform the teacher of what had happened. For about two agonizing minutes, he stood there crying with his hands in his pockets, trying to hide the damp spots on his pants as he thought about the extremely embarrassing conversation about him that was probably happening inside the classroom. Eventually, Lauren emerged from the classroom carrying the very same hall pass that had been denied to him just a few moments earlier.
“Cheer up silly, it was just an accident!” She teased him lightheartedly. “Accidents happen sometimes. It’s no big deal, really! Now come on, let’s get you to the nurse so we can get you out of those smelly pee-pee pants.”
Lauren grabbed Michaels arm and began dragging him in the direction of the nurses office. She didn’t give him much of a choice, really. Michael began to wonder if she saw him the same way that everybody else was beginning to, like some sort of small child that needed to be taken care of. He certainly didn’t feel like a big kid being treated like this by a girl his age. The unfairness of it all made him seethe with anger, but with no appropriate outlet for his outrage, it all just internalized and fed into the constant stream of tears running down his cheeks. He needed someone to comfort him. Someone to hold him. Someone to kiss him on the forehead and tell him that it would all get better. He needed . . .
“M . . . Mommy. I want my Mommy,” Michael once again found himself muttering. Lauren rolled her eyes at the small boy, but on some level she understood.
“You always have been a momma’s boy, haven’t you?” she teased. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute how you two are so close. I can call her if you really want me to. Do you need me to give her a ring?”
This just upset Michael even more. If his mother arrived and saw him in his wet pants and pull-ups, he was sure he’d have to put up with yet more childish humiliations in the near future.
“No!” he yelled out, desperate to avoid such a situation.
Lauren looked puzzlingly at the sobbing boy. Her gaze moved up and down the length of his body, taking in the sight of every stray tear drop and bead of snot dangling from his face. He really did look like some kind of oversized toddler.
“No? Why are you crying about wanting your mommy then? Is there something going on, Michael? You’ve been acting so strange lately. If something’s wrong, you know you can tell me anything, right? I just want to help you. You’re like a little brother to me.”
Still sobbing, Michaels looked around to make sure nobody was nearby. He leaned in close to Lauren and whispered softly. “Can...can you keep a secret?”
His eyes looked up and met Lauren’s, and she was looking down at him with nothing but warmth on her face. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, baby. What’s troubling you so much?”
“My Mommy, I mean my Mom, well, she has me on this weird new therapy program where she . . . um . . . she holds me . . . and we cuddle whenever I get sad. I absolutely hated it at first, but after a while, it actually started to make me feel better. I even started looking forward to it. Oh God, this is so weird to admit to someone. I have no idea why, but whenever I feel bad letting her hold me just makes me feel more . . . um . . . ”
“Comfortable?” Lauren interjected.
“Yeah,” he replied nervously. “You don’t think I’m some kind of freak, do you?”
Lauren clicked her tongue and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Oh, Mikey, no! I don’t think you’re a freak at all! If anything it makes a lot of sense to me. We all need someone to hold onto sometimes. I’m sure when you spend time on your Mommy’s lap, it makes you feel loved and safe, that’s all. Take my little sister for example. Whenever she gets upset, my Mom just holds onto her for a little while and tells her everything is going to be fine. And then everything is fine, because mothers always know how to cheer their little ones up! It’s like, a weird superpower that comes with being a mommy or something.”
It was a better answer than Michael expected. But even still, being compared to Lauren’s little sister was a blow to his ego. He frowned.
“Lauren, your sister is six years old. I’m a sophomore in high school!”
“Doesn’t mean you have to stop being your mommy’s little cuddlebug! I bet you’re just as cute as my sister is when you start to get pouty and your mommy just scoops you up on her lap. It’s not like you’d be too hard to carry, either. What are you, like 80 lbs? Anyway, I already said I’m not judging you, Mikey. I just think it’s an adorable picture, that’s all. You already said you like it, so why fight it if it’s what you need?”
What I need, he thought with a shudder. It was true, at this point he did need it, and as much as that fact embarrassed him to no end, he would not be able to calm down until he got exactly what he needed.
Sensing his distress, Lauren once again grabbed hold of his hand and rubbed it tenderly. “You’re really upset right now, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“Well,” said Lauren in a near-whisper, “If it’ll make you feel better, or at least better enough to stop crying, maybe you’d like it if I held you instead?”
Chills suddenly went down Michael’s spine. His entire being wanted nothing more than to respond with an emphatic “yes”. And yet, after what he just admitted, would giving yet another woman a glimpse into this aspect of his being really help him in the long run? Lauren didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she changed course and dragged the sobbing boy off to a remote hallway, which contained a side entrance to the school’s pool and a few ancient, worn out vending machines. She opened the entrance to the pool and led him inside. Thankfully, the pool was usually empty this time of day, so for now at least, they would have plenty of privacy.
Lauren surveyed the perimeter when they entered the pool area. Sure enough, the coast was clear. She yanked a towel off of a lifeguard’s chair and ushered Michael up a nearby pair of stairs, eventually leading him to an empty set of bleachers overlooking the pool. Next thing Michael knew, she was sitting down and placing the towel onto her lap. Her left hand began to pat the towel, playfully inviting him onto it.
“Um, Lauren . . . You don’t have to do this. Really, I’ll be fine. Can’t we just take care of my pants first?”
“C’mon silly! There’s nobody else here, so you don’t have to be scared of anything. Just let me hold you for a bit. You’ll feel better in no time, I promise.”
Michael looked around the pool nervously in all directions. Indeed, no one was there. Before he could make a decision, however, he was already feeling the gentle tug of Lauren’s arm leading him closer to her body. Unable to resist being herded like a sheep, especially by the woman he so dearly had a crush on, he put up no resistance as Lauren carefully lowered him onto her lap, where he wordlessly adjusted himself so he could be more comfortable.
The two of them remained seated there for a few minutes, uninterrupted. Lauren, being the experienced caretaker she was, gave Michael plenty of time to ease into the feeling of being held by her, and began lovingly holding him like the child in need of comforting he was. Almost as quickly as he seemed to calm down, however, a flurry of mixed emotions hit Michael.
“What am I doing?” he muttered morosely. “I’m a sophomore this year. I’m supposed to be a big kid, but here I am in a pair of wet pants letting my best friend soothe me like I’m some kind of upset pre-schooler.”
Lauren just laughed. “My, my! You’re a sulky one today, you know that? Just relax! I said you’re fine, nobody here is judging you except for yourself.”
-
Michael thought about it for a second and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t feel much better, but the least he could do was savor the moment. He leaned back and rested his back into her shoulder.
“And besides”, Lauren added with a jovial boop on his nose, “I don’t think most people who are that concerned with appearing mature would refer to themselves as a big kid, do you?”
Michael couldn’t help but laugh a tiny bit at that remark. The mood thankfully did seem to lighten up as Michael spent more and more time on her lap, learning to savor the newfound relationship he had with his long time friend. Lauren seemed to enjoy it as well, although she spent most of her time staring down at Michael’s woefully youthful figure, trying to figure out exactly why she liked taking care of him so much. It’s not like she wanted to disrespect or demean him in any way, but there was something about Michael that always made him feel more like a younger sibling to her than a normal fifteen year-old friend. He just didn’t seem like the other boys. The more she thought about her past with him, the more she began to realise that she may have really just enjoyed taking care of him more than they enjoyed any real friendship. Subconsciously, had she always known that he was just the meek, needy little boy who was sitting on her lap at this very moment? He was always so vulnerable. So weak. So small. It almost made her feel guilty to think about it, but she truly was beginning to realise that not only was this the real him, but even more strangely, it was exactly why she enjoyed being around him so much.
As Michael continued to rest on Lauten’s lap, she suddenly got a wonderful idea. Being extra careful not to alarm him, she sneakily reached into her nearby purse and pulled out her cell phone. Lauren’s face was caked with delight as she held the phone up high and smiled for the camera, making sure to aim it precisely so Michael’s adorable face was center-frame below hers. With a barely audible snap, this moment would now be hers forever.
Wow, Lauren thought. He didn’t even notice me reaching for my phone. He really must be enjoying this.
It was at that exact moment that Michael’s newfound bliss would evaporate, however. Just as Lauren went to put her phone back into her purse, the movement of her legs shifted Michael’s positioning ever so slightly. This had the immediate side effect of sliding his pants down just enough so that the fluffy white top of his pull-up was now peeking above the waistline of his trousers. Lauren squinted her eyes when she noticed the white training pants come into view. She may not have been a mother, but she had enough experience watching her sister to know what that looked like.
“Um, Mikey?” She whispered softly, jolting him back to reality. His eyes opened and he looked back up at her, clearly surprised by his return to earth.
“What is it Lauren?” He asked her innocently.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but can I ask you kind of a personal question?”
Michael hesitated. “I guess?”
She pulled her face closer to him so that her mouth was only centimeters away from his ear. For a brief moment, she herself hesitated to speak, giving Michael a few moments to absorb every sultry breath she took. Hot air reverberated throughout his ear drum when she finally began to whisper, sending a wave of ecstasy down Michael’s spine, and furthermore, causing his tiny pen-is to jostle hungrily in its cage.
“How long have you been wearing diapers, little boy?” she teased him.
Despite wanting to help Michael feel better, she was powerless to stop herself from embarrassing him at least a little bit. She knew full well that he had a crush on her, and after seeing him this vulnerable, a small part of her wanted to see him squirm.
This made Michael incredibly embarrassed. “Th -- Th -- The --” He began stammering, unable to find words amidst his mixture of horniness and shame.
Lauren was absolutely relishing in her newfound power over the small boy. With her face still inches from his, she moved her arm down to his pants and pulled her hand through the front of his waistband. Her hand then began to caress the soft, fluffy material, which had a texture that was unmistakable.
“Th -- They’re not diapers, okay? They're pull-ups,” Michael finally spat out. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that embarrassing,” she assured him. “Still . . . you gotta admit, you’re lucky you had these on. Otherwise you’d be one wet little boy.”
By now, Michael was beginning to shake. He didn’t know why it felt so good to be teased like this by his crush, to feel control slip so thoroughly out of his hands, yet somehow it all just made him feel even worse about his current predicament. “Please don’t call me a little boy, Lauren. I’m the same age you are,” he pleaded with her meekly.
Lauren rolled her eyes and giggled at his adorable protest. “Whatever you say, big man!” she responded sarcastically, patting the front of his wet pull-ups for emphasis. Now that he was done crying, she figured now was as good of a time as any to wrap things up. “What do you say we take you to the nurse now and get those big boy pants taken care of?”
Suddenly, Michael felt himself being pushed onto his feet by Lauren, who quickly grabbed her things and pulled him in for a hug. She surprised him by also giving him a light kiss on the cheek, giggling when Michael inevitably blushed.
“Feel better? I honestly enjoyed that a lot. I can see why your Mommy loves cuddling with you so much. You’re a very well behaved little boy,” Lauren cooed. She extended her hand and offered it to Michael, now finally heading off to bring him to the nurses office.
The trip to the nurse’s office was just as embarrassing as Michael had feared. Lauren, of course, insisted on holding his hand the whole way there. When they eventually did arrive, Michael was glad that Lauren was willing to do all of the explaining necessary to the school nurse, saving him the embarrassment of needing to utter the phrase “I wet my pants” to anyone else today. He was a bit concerned about how happy she looked when she bent down to whisper his plight into the nurse’s ear, but the nurse’s response was about as neutral as he could hope for.
“It’s alright, hun. It happens to the best of us.” The nurse responded casually. “Let me just grab you some clean clothes and we’ll get this all taken care of.”
She got up from her desk and returned moments later with a pair of grey sweatpants as well as a pair of plain white underwear. “Just go slip these on in that bathroom over there and hand me your wet clothes when you’re done. By tomorrow we’ll have them nice and dry, and you can just come right back down here and pick them up, okay?”
Michael nodded nervously, anxious to make sure the other kids in the nurse's office were not listening in on their conversation. He grabbed the clothes and carried them into the bathroom, where he wasted no time slipping out of his wet pants and pull-up. Before changing into the new clothes, he then discarded the wet pull-up into a small trash can that sat on the floor. In order to cover up his tracks, he would need to hide the pull-up somehow, so he grabbed a handful of paper towels and stuffed it into the trash can as well, taking time to make sure that it covered the pull-up entirely so that no one else who entered the bathroom would see it. Satisfied with himself, he quickly stepped into the plain pair of Fruit of the Loom underwear and pulled it up his legs, followed by the pair of sweatpants. When he finally exited the restroom, he was carrying only his pair of wet trousers, which he bunched up in an attempt to hide his shame.
“All done then?” the nurse called out as he left the bathroom, extending her arms to collect his wet clothes. With a blank expression, he handed them over before putting his hands back in his pockets. Thankfully, the only other student besides Lauren in the office that day seemed to be glued to his phone and not paying much attention. Michael sighed with relief.
His relief, sadly, would not last long. “Alright, now give me your underwear.” The nurse suddenly demanded, which sent Michael into a panic looking for an excuse.
“Um, I --”
He looked over at Lauren, who returned his gaze with an expression that made it clear she was trying her hardest to fight back a smile. Michael shifted his feet nervously and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t wear any underwear today.”
This response made the Nurse roll her eyes. “Ugh, of course you didn’t. Boys your age can be so filthy sometimes. In the future you may want to start doing that, young man. Especially if you want to keep your pants clean.”
“Good luck with that!” The other student interjected from his bed across the room. Apparently he had been paying attention after all. Lauren raised her fist angrily and made a face at him.
“Maybe you should stay out of things that don’t concern you.” She barked at him, which only made the occupied student shrug in response. Michael’s face began to grow red at the attention he was now receiving, and without thinking about it, he found himself moving behind Lauren to use his body as a shield. This did not go unnoticed by Lauren. She put her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.
“Don’t worry Mikey, I won’t let anyone be mean to you.”
This only embarrassed him more, but before he had a chance to say anything about it, Lauren was saying her goodbyes to the nurse and dragging him back to class. When they arrived back at Ms. Featherford’s, she was furious. She demanded an explanation of why they had been gone for so long. Thankfully, ever the gifted storyteller, Lauren was able to think of a crafty excuse that explained away where all the time had gone; all without mentioning the decent length of time her and Michael had spent together cuddling on the pool bleachers. It was a good enough excuse for their teacher, apparently, because instead of getting angry and writing them up, she instead just sent them back to their seats in a huff. Although they would both need to do a make-up quiz at some point, Michael was just happy he wouldn’t need to face the prospect of an undeserved detention.
-
The rest of the school day went by pretty normally. When Michael got home, he was anxious to return to his room and slip into a fresh pull-up before his mother would notice anything strange. He approached the door and knocked carefully, prepared to make a mad dash before his mother could suspect anything. It would be very awkward to run past his mother, but he figured it was better than the alternative of her figuring out he was no longer wearing his pull-up. This would be so much easier if she just let me have a key, He thought glumly as he waited.
A few seconds later the door began to open. Melissa stood in the entrance with her arms extended, prepared to give her precious little boy a hug. “Hello sweetie! How was --”
“Hi mom, gotta run real quick!” Michael cut her off, running full speed towards the stairs and ignoring her open armed gesture. However, he was quickly caught off guard when he noticed something new blocking his path. At the bottom of the stairs sat a brand new child safety gate, which went up about half the length of Michael’s body. He hesitated for a second before shrugging it off and attempting to climb over it, but it stalled him for just enough time that Melissa easily caught up to him and placed her arms around his chest, lifting him up and bringing him back down to her level.
“What the devil are you doing, Michael? You’re going to hurt yourself!” She tactfully scolded him. Melissa could not stay angry with him long, however, and soon she was ruffling his hair with a playful smile. “See, baby? This is exactly why I had this new safety gate installed. You can’t just run up and down the stairs like that all willy-nilly, or one of these days you’re going to fall and break something. Besides, don’t you know it’s rude not to properly greet your mommy?”
Her grip on Michael was borderline suffocating. Because he was much shorter than her, he could only stand there and wince while her large breasts rubbed and pressed up against his face. Melissa, however, seemed oblivious to this, and continued holding on to him like she hadn’t seen him in months.
“Sorry Mommy . . . I was just in a bit of a hurry, that’s all.” Michael tried to explain.
“Aw, well I don’t see why you can’t take a few moments to let your mommy see her little sugarplum after his long day of school. You know how much I miss you every day.”
Melissa bent down and gave Michael a long wet kiss on the forehead. When she pulled away, Michael started blushing. This distracted him for long enough that he hardly even noticed when Melissa went to stick one of her fingers down the front of his pants.
“What’s this?!” Melissa gasped suddenly. She quickly undid Michael’s pants and dropped them to the floor, revealing the pair of underwear he had received from the nurse’s office. “Honey, what happened to your pull-ups? You know you’re not supposed to take them off without mommy’s permission. Did something happen today that you’re not telling me?”
The color immediately drained from Michael’s face. As much as he wanted to avoid this exact situation, his worst fears were now playing out before his eyes. He tilted his head downward and shuffled from foot to foot in shame.
“You’re right mommy”, He mewed. “My teacher wouldn’t give me a hall pass when I needed to go to the bathroom. I tried to hold it, I really did . . . but . . . but . . . ”
“Oh no, darling! You wet yourself didn’t you?”, Melissa interjected. Michael looked away and nodded his head shamefully.
“I’m so sorry honey, that had to be so embarrassing for you. Still, you do realize this just proves that you need to be wearing your protection, right? What would happen if you wet yourself again right now? It’d just be a huge mess for mommy to clean up, and we certainly can’t have that,” Melissa sighed. “I guess I can’t be too mad at you. It’s hard for a little one like you to control themselves after all, and as your Mommy, I definitely should have seen this coming. From now on, I guess I’ll have to send you to school with more pull-ups just in case.” This “solution” to today’s problems just made Michael even more upset.
“Mommy, no! You can’t do that!” he spat out defensively. “It’s already bad enough that you make me wear them, but you can’t send me to school with extra pull-ups. What if one of my bullies opens up my backpack and sees them? My life would be over! People already treat me like some kind of little kid. If anyone saw those, I’d be the laughing stock of the entire school! Please, just let me have my normal underwear back. This will never happen again, I promise!”
“Oh stop whining!” Melissa responded dismissively. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Lots of children your age have issues with making it to the bathroom. If it really bothers you that much, I’ll just give a couple to the school nurse and you can go change there if you ever have another accident. In the meantime, I really don’t think that you should be walking around without your protection, especially given what happened today.”
Michael clenched his fists and looked down at the floor in anger. He wanted to argue with her, but he had no idea what he could say to change her mind. In her eyes, his accident at school had proved her right about his pull-ups all along; never mind the fact that if he wasn’t so embarrassed to use the bathroom he wouldn’t have wet himself in the first place.
“Now”, Melissa continued, “are you going to be a good little boy and let mommy put your training pants back on, or is Mommy going to have to punish you for being difficult? Either way, you’re going to end up wearing them, so I advise you to choose wisely.”
“Fine . . . whatever. I’ll wear them I guess.”
“Yes, you will,” Melissa replied sternly as she walked over to the child safety gate and began to unfasten it. “And you’re going to do so with a better attitude as well. I know today must have been difficult, but that’s no excuse to be upset with your Mommy. You need to learn that Mommy knows best and that things will go much smoother if you just trust me. Now come along honey, let’s get that cute little bottom of yours into a fresh pull-up.”
Melissa grabbed hold of Michael’s hand and began dragging him up the stairs, where he followed meekly and defeatedly behind her, until they eventually reached his bedroom. Almost immediately after being dragged inside, Michael found himself standing in front of Melissa and being ordered to remove his pants and underwear. Michael reluctantly followed her commands. Now naked except for his shirt, he was taken through the familiar (and not to mention humiliating) ritual of stepping into a new brightly colored pull-up, which Melissa cheerfully held out for him, and then having her slide it up his legs while humming a catchy little tune to herself.
For some reason, pretty much as soon as Michael felt the pull-up slide into place, Melissa’s mood seemed to improve ten-fold. Her neutral, businesslike expression slowly gave way to a warm, comforting grin. She wrapped Michael in for a big, motherly hug, and with her free hand she tenderly patted the seat of his pull up.
“There baby, now you can stay nice and dry if you have another accident”, she cooed in an infantilizing voice, which made Michael feel even more uncomfortable. He was then briefly relieved when he saw Melissa pick up the pair of sweatpants off the ground, expecting her to put them back on him, but quickly became confused when she instead folded them up and threw them in his hamper.
“Given your protests a moment ago, I don’t think you should wear any pants for the rest of the day, at least until I can trust that you won’t try to take off your pull-up,” Melissa explained, which just about made Michael want to die of embarrassment. He would spend the rest of the night in a self-conscious state of vulnerability. Melissa would not admit this to him directly, but she thought it was absolutely adorable to watch him scamper around in just a shirt and a pull-up, meekly looking down at himself whenever he thought nobody was looking, only to grow red-faced and somehow even more coy when he finally noticed Melissa gazing at him with a swooning expression from afar. Even though he had been wearing a pull-up for weeks now, the mere act of having to look at it constantly made him feel even more babyish than usual. Sure, it was not the first time Melissa had forbidden pants, but it was the first time that she made him truly feel he had earned this emasculating status. It was especially embarrassing during that night’s cuddle time, when Melissa just couldn’t stop herself from filling up one of his sippy-cups with milk and demanding she be the one to hold it, looking down at him like he truly was the helpless toddler she was surely turning him into as they cuddled on the couch. Of course, her excuse to Michael was that she simply needed to make sure he was getting his share of calcium. However, Michael was not stupid. He could see the writing on the walls. When he was finally sent to bed that night at 7pm sharp, it was with a great deal of uncertainty about what lay ahead in his future.
Melissa, by contrast, was more certain about the future than ever. She didn’t know why, but the more childishly she treated Michael, the more “right” her relationship with her son felt. The thought of Michael growing up and leaving always scared her, but now she was beginning to feel like that prospect was moving further and further away. Her child would always be dependent on her, she was sure of it now, and as much as she knew it went against all conventional wisdom on parenting, the fact that she would never let him grow up brought her a genuine sense of comfort and joy. The direction Dr. Thurman was leading him in was having incredible results, and if she knew only one thing at this time, it was that she needed more.
Then suddenly, as she sat alone at the dining room table pondering Michael’s transformation, Melissa’s phone began to ring. The shrill noise of her ringtone quickly brought her crashing back to the real world. She was still halfway in a trance when she finally managed to find her phone and answer it.
“Hi Ms. Harper”, came a cheery female voice on the other side of the line. “This is Lauren. You know, from across the street?”
“Oh hello, Lauren!” Melissa happily greeted her. “Of course I know who you are, dear, Michael talks about you all the time. He’s in bed right now, so he can’t come to the phone, but if you’d like I can take a message for him.”
“Thank you, but I’m actually not calling for Michael” Lauren responded.
“Believe it or not, I was hoping I could talk to you about something that happened at school today. Michael told me some . . . interesting things . . . I guess you could say, and I just had some questions because I’m a bit worried for him.”
Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Is everything alright? What exactly happened that made you so worried?”
Lauren proceeded to give Melissa a long-winded explanation of the day's events, from the moment she discovered Michael had wet his pants, to her shock at hearing him ask to sit on her lap, right down to their eventual trip to the nurse’s office. As Melissa listened, she patiently nodded along, but was secretly filled with delight at just how wonderfully things seemed to be working.
“Thanks for telling me all of this, dear,” she told Lauren after listening to her whole story. “I’m sure after the strangeness of today’s events, you probably have a few questions about Michael’s sudden change in behaviour.”
“Well yeah, actually,” Lauren admitted. “What’s the deal with this new therapy you have him on? I’m not judging, mind you, it’s sort of the opposite really. It seems to work wonders. He went from sobbing uncontrollably to being totally docile in my arms after, like, only five minutes. Whatever you’re doing, I agree with it wholeheartedly. Even if it is a bit weird.”
Melissa chuckled. “I guess it is a bit weird, isn’t it? I certainly thought that at first, but after a few weeks of Michael’s therapy, I’ve been entirely convinced by its results. If there’s any questions you have about it, I’d be more than happy to answer them.”
Lauren did indeed have questions for Melissa. Many of them, in fact. The conversation went on into the deep of the night, with Melissa explaining every aspect of Michael’s therapy in full detail. Every bit of information Melissa revealed to Lauren, Lauren wholeheartedly approved. The more the two women talked, the more they began to understand each other as if they had known each other all their lives. Without even knowing it, Michael had just gained a powerful new entity in the conspiracy to re-shape his entire being, and it was all happening right underneath his nose as he lay in bed, sound asleep and none the wiser.
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Where is Chapter -7- ?
From Chapter -6- Reply 23
there are replies 24 - 25 - 26 (no title)
then comes Chapter -8-
Chapters averaging 3-4 sections -
this leaves a big hole in the story.
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You're right, BabyLock. I forgot to label some of the chapters. My bad, I'll have to go back and edit them if I still can. Needless to say, the story has been posted in the correct order with no gaps, so no need to worry that you've missed anything.
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Baby Lock, all chapters are there. The title for Chapter 7 was inadvertently deleted apparently, during the process of transfering the text to this site. Reply #25 is the beginning of Chapter 7. The two replies following in secession are also part of Chapter 7.
From the moment I began reading this story, I felt it showed a lot of promise. Now, that I have just finished reading Chapter 8, my opinion has changed. I now feel this story is going to turn out to be one of those that I will re-read many times for the sheer thrill it gives me. These two writers, working together are creating a work with exciting semi-realistic narrative, which I prefer, and dialogue that is very convincing. I can hear the characters' unique separate voices. Chapter 8 had my heart beating fast and my excitement steadily increased with each segment, especially the part with Michael lying in Lauren's lap like an infant, feeling safe by her instinctual motherly comfort.
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Apologies on any confusion re: Ch. 7. As CuddleBunns said, everything has been posted in the right order with no gaps, so hopefully the reading makes sense.
And thank you for all the kind words. They really mean a lot.
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Wonderful, wonderful story. Thank you so much for this very sweet treat.
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CHAPTER NINE -- A SCHEDULE CHANGE
About a week later, Michael was feeling how he always felt in math class: confused and overwhelmed. Mrs. Torsten had demonstrated some properties of parallelograms and then given the class a worksheet full of problems. The idea was for students to do most, or maybe all, of their homework in class, so they wouldn’t have a lot of work to do tonight. Plus, she’d be there to help and answer any questions they had as they worked.
The problem was, Michael hadn’t taken good notes while his teacher had talked. He’d tried to, but his little weiner kept trying to get hard and thus kept mashing up against the confines of its lavender plastic prison. Plus, he wasn’t much good at taking notes anyways, even when he wasn’t distracted. Mrs. Torsten was so intimidating: young for a teacher and blond like Michael liked, she was totally unlike any female teacher he’d ever had. She wasn’t maternal or comforting at all. She was cold and businesslike and demanded excellence from her students. Because of his poor performance last year, as a ninth grader, Michael was having to retake Geometry, making him at least a year behind in math compared to his peers. In their brief one-on-one interactions this year, Mrs. Torsten had always made him feel intimidated and small, an unwelcome distraction she’d rather not deal with.
But he’d vowed that things were going to change this year! And he knew that one of the things he needed to work on was asking for help when he needed it. That was something his Mommy had always encouraged him to do . . . or at least she had encouraged him to do it a lot last year. She hadn’t really said anything about it this year. But still, Michael saw an opportunity to demonstrate his maturity and knew he needed to seize it.
“Mrs. Torsten,” he said, knees shaking as he approached her desk. “I, uh--I had some questions about the homework?
His teacher looked up from the work she’d been grading and brushed her long straight hair out of her face. She grimaced when she realized who had interrupted her. “Let me guess,” she said in a snide tone, “you need help with the very first problem?”
“Well, uh -- actually, I -- y -- yeah.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Mrs. Torsten said with a huge sigh. “Still, it doesn’t matter.”
Thinking that she meant that it didn’t matter what problem he needed help on, Michael’s spirits lifted for a moment: “Thank you for helping me, Mrs. Torsten.”
The teacher frowned. “I’m not helping you. Why would I help you on homework that doesn’t even count for you?”
Michael was completely confused. “Doesn’t -- ? I . . . I thought you said this was due tomorrow?”
“It is. For students who are still enrolled in my class.” Mrs. Torsten was not whispering, and Michael was suddenly acutely aware of other students hearing their conversation.
“N -- not enrolled? I’m . . . I’m enrolled,” he stammered.
Mrs. Torsten rolled her eyes. “Not anymore you’re not, baby,” she said, putting an almost sinister spin on the word baby. “Math’s just too stressful for you, and starting after today, you’re going to use this period to get your special needs met.” From her tone of voice and the sneer on her face, Michael had no doubt about the contempt in which she held him.
“I -- I don’t . . . I’m not sure what you’re . . . ”
“Look,” Mrs. Torsten said, “you’ve wasted enough of my time. If you have any questions, you can ask your little helper there.” As she spoke, she pointed, and Michael turned to see Lauren entering the classroom. This was deeply odd because Lauren was not in this math class. Michael had no idea what she was doing here.
“Mrs. Torsten?” Lauren said, loud enough to project across the room, “I’m here to pick up Michael.”
“Please,” Mrs. Torsten said, waving her hand, “take him.” Several students giggled, shocked and delighted to see a teacher being so salty.
“Come here, Mikey,” Lauren said, using her pet name for him. “Do you have all your stuff? Oh no, you don’t. Here, let’s get you all packed up and then we’ll get you right to lunch.” She crossed to Michael’s empty seat and began packing his backpack for him.
Michael rushed over to her. “Lauren! Hey! I . . . you don’t have to . . . ”
“Hey,” she said, reaching over and stroking his hair. “It’s fine. Let me take care of you a little, okay? There we are, all ready to go.” Instead of handing Michael’s backpack to him, Lauren just lifted it herself, putting over one shoulder and extending a hand to him.
“Lauren? Wh -- what’s going on?” he whispered, embarrassed. “Lunch isn’t for another 15 minutes.”
Lauren reached over playfully and beeped Michael’s nose. “Sure, for the rest of us. But sometimes special kids get special treats. Now, come on,” she said, forcibly taking his hand. Michael’s face was crimson from blushing as they exited Mrs. Torsten’s room, which was alight with snickers and whispered comments as the students watched Lauren lead Michael out of the room while she carried his backpack and held his hand.
“Lauren? What’s going on?” Michael asked again as she led him through the empty hallway. “Mrs. Torsten was being weird and she said something about me not being in her class anymore?”
“That’s because you’re not in her class anymore,” Lauren said, matter-of-factly.
“What? Everyone has to take math!”
“Not special kids,” Lauren said, as though that explained anything.
“But -- but -- what do you mean? What does that mean? I have to take math! Everyone has to take math! And how do you know about any of this? And where are we going?”
“Ssssssssshhhhhh,” Lauren said, stopping and kneeling in front of Michael. She physically put a finger over his lips as she continued: “you’re getting loud, and we don’t want to make a scene in the hallway, do we, baby?” The way she said baby made Michael both squirm with embarrassment and throb in his cage. “Plus, we don’t want you getting worked up and having an accident, do we? Are you dry, sugarbear?”
“Yes!” Michael snapped. “I told you, I don’t really need those, my Mommy just --”
“Riiiiiight,” Lauren said with a gentle smile. “You don’t need pull-ups. It’s just that your Mommy makes you wear them because sometimes you wet your pants at school. I see now. Hey--” she said, seeing Michael cringing, “stop that. I know you’re a little confused, but this is a really, really happy day. And we wanted to keep it a surprise so you could really enjoy it. I mean, are you really going to try to pretend that you’re not glad to be done with math? Now, come on.”
We? Michael thought as he trudged along behind Lauren, his hand still in hers. Who’s we?
Lauren led Michael through a series of hallways, never letting go of his hand. Mercifully, they were largely empty because most students were still in class. Eventually, she took him to the front office, where the receptionist seemed to smile knowingly at Lauren as they entered. From there, Lauren positioned Michael in front of her and steered him towards the nurse’s office. Seeing Michael, the nurse smiled and, looking at Lauren, said “Everything’s ready, you can take her on in.”
Reeling as he tried to process the school nurse calling him “her,” Michael followed along behind Lauren as she opened a door and lead him through it. The room was small but it was crowded: a small loveseat sat against the far wall, under a heavily curtained window. It was warm in the small room--which Michael vaguely realized must have been a small office for the school nurse--and the lights were low: no overhead lighting, just a small lamp on a small table next to the loveseat. On the couch, grinning ear to ear, sat both his Mommy and his wet-nurse, Linda.
“Hiiiiiiieeeeeee, baby!” his mother squealed, rushing to him and kneeling to envelop Michael in a hug. Part of him was glad she was there to hold him; at the sight of Lauren and Nurse Linda in the same room, Michael’s knees had buckled. He was so humiliated that he felt dizzy and flushed, sick to his stomach. This could not be happening! He’d tried so, so hard to keep his two worlds separate, to have home be home and school be the place where he could be his own . . .
“How’s Mommy’s special little baby?” his Mommy asked, pulling back from her hug to look at him. “Did you have a nice trip down here with your special friend, Lauren?”
Michael cringed. How could his Mommy expose his crush on Lauren so casually? As if it were nothing?
Melissa, by now used to talking over Michael or through his silences, continued: “After your little accident at school awhile back, Mommy had a meeting with the experts at A Caring Place, baby, and we’ve all been working hard to set up this surprise for you. Since school keeps on being so hard for you, we’ll just have you do less of it, honey! So instead of math class, now, every day you’ll come down here and Nurse Linda will breastfeed you. You can have a nice long nursing session, and then you can relax and nap right through lunch. Then your special friend Lauren can pick you up and take you to history class right after lunch!”
“Mom!” Michael shrieked. He could feel his world crumbling, and he was furious. “You -- you told Lauren? About -- about -- ?”
“About your special needs and your special care? Of course, I did honey, I --”
“I HATE YOU!” Michael screamed, pulling away from his Mommy and slapping at her, ineffectually. “How could you --? How could you tell her I -- I -- I HATE YOU!”
Melissa reeled back. His blows posed no danger to her whatsoever, but she was shocked by the degree of his defiance.
“I’M NOT A BABY!” Michael shrieked, “I don’t want to breastfeed or wear a pull up or miss lunch! I want to go to school! Like a real boy, a normal boy!” Unable to maintain his anger for long, Michael’s energy began crashing into sadness as he turned to face Lauren. “Whatever they told you, I didn’t -- I’m not -- I didn’t want --”
Michael suddenly felt a deathgrip around his right upper arm. Surprised, he turned to see that Nurse Linda had stood up and crossed the short room to where he stood. Her left hand was wrapped around his skinny upper arm with a vice-like grip, and he’d never seen Linda--whom he associated, up to this point, only with love and nurturing--like this before. She was furious, her face set in a scowl and her eyes glassy with rage.
“Listen here, Missy,” Linda said, pulling Michael past his mother and over to the couch. “YOU are a sweet baby GIRL, and sweet baby girls are not hateful, ungrateful little wretches. When Mommy and her friends go out of their way to do something nice for a sweet baby girl, SHE is nothing but grateful and appreciative.”
Michael, stunned by the intensity of Linda’s reaction, toddered in helpless shock as she sat down on the loveseat and jerked down his shorts, dropping them to the floor and exposing the pull-up his Mommy had dressed him in this morning. This one was Tianna-themed, from The Princess and the Frog, and even though he wasn’t facing Lauren, he cringed to think of her seeing him in it. But that thought was short-lived, as Linda soon slid Michael’s pull-up off and pulled him down over her knee, his bare bottom exposed and vulnerable.
“I don’t know where this flare up of male ego is coming from,” Linda ranted, “but believe me, I will not tolerate it.” With that, she swatted Michael’s bare butt, hard. He squealed in pain and kicked, but she held him in place easily. Punctuating the pauses in her words with hard spanks, she continued: “You--Missy--need to learn--that special little girls--are best seen and not heard--And they definitely--do NOT--backtalk their Mommy--because--Mommy--knows--BEST.”
Never one with a high tolerance for pain, Michael was already in tears, just from this brief onslaught. He begged that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant it, but that didn’t slow or deter Linda in any way.
“I know this is hard to watch,” Linda said to Melissa and Lauren, both of whom had approached the loveseat to get a close-up view of the spanking. “But this is exactly the kind of thing we talked about.”
Lauren nodded. “Mrs. Harper said that sometimes Michael was going to struggle with the transition.”
“Yes,” Linda agreed, hammering in another series of hard blows to Michael’s reddening behind. “It’s not Melissa’s fault--she didn’t know any better at the time--few women do--but our little sugarplum here -- has spent -- far -- too -- much -- time -- thinking she’s a boy -- and a big boy at that -- so she has this sense of --”
“A false persona,” Lauren said, “it’s just like we talked about on the phone, Mrs. Harper!”
Melissa smiled and touched Lauren’s hand. “Lauren, you are such a blessing. It’s such a huge help to have a helper with a foot here in Michael’s school world, especially one who understands as well as you do.”
“Oh, I love Mikey,” Lauren said, “he’s always been like a little brother--or I guess I should say sister now--to me. I’m so happy to do anything that will make things easier for him. Er, her.”
Michael, still bent over Linda’s broad thighs, noticed that while his Mom didn’t disagree with Lauren calling him a girl, she didn’t object either. He felt their words sting ever harder than the punishment Linda was doling out to his backside. All the work he’d put into keeping his two worlds separate--home where he had to be babied and school where he could be normal--had failed. Lauren knew. And even worse, she seemed to be sympathetic to these older women’s plans for him! He went limp across Linda’s lap, staring at the floor and sobbing helplessly.
“There now,” Linda said, finally stopping her assault. “There. All better now. I’m sorry I had to do that, buttercup. But when little baby girls misbehave, their Nurses have to help them get back in line, don’t they? Yes, they do, come here, baby . . . ”
Michael had no resistance left. He was limp as a rag doll as Linda pulled him to his feet, once again standing him in front of her, though this time she spun him around. He was facing his Mommy and Lauren, naked from the waist down except for his cage, as Linda got a tube of cooling lotion out of her purse and rubbed it on his blazing backside. He was in physical pain, yes, but that was just a distant ache compared to the humiliation he felt, knowing that Lauren knew about his baby treatment, about Linda calling him a girl, about Linda being his wet-nurse. His hands rushed to his front to try to cover his tiny, caged weiner, but his Mommy gently moved his hands away, leaving him totally exposed to Lauren.
“Mikey?” Lauren said, kneeling to be at face-level with him. “It’s okay, Mikey. It’s okay. It really is. I think it’s a beautiful thing that you need your cares lifted, and you don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me. You really don’t.”
Michael had no words left. No thoughts. He was sobbing now, harder than he’d been sobbing when he was being spanked. The humiliation coursing through him felt like it was going to break his chest in two. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. He just squinted his eyes shut and looked down at the floor, knowing that whatever these powerful women, Lauren included, wanted to happen was going to happen. He simply had no say in it.
His bottom coated in cooling lotion, Michael was spun around again by Nurse Linda and taken down into her arms. At this point, even though he was humiliated to know that Lauren was there, Michael responded immediately to being put in the nursing position. Linda’s arms were strong and comfortable and he’d been in them often enough now to know that when he was here, he didn’t have to think. And not thinking sounded perfect right now because thinking was painful. All he had to do was close his eyes and latch on to Linda’s huge, milky breast and suc-k. No thinking, just suc-kling. No worrying, just jets of warm breastmilk in his mouth.
“Oh . . . WOW,” Lauren said as she watched Michael latch on and begin to nurse. “I mean, you told me that he -- she -- you told me Mikey was nursing, but -- ”
“Seeing it yourself is really something else, isn’t it?” Melissa whispered as she dimmed the lights in the small office. Lauren nodded. “Michael needs this,” Melissa said. “Michael really needs this. When Dr. Thurman, his therapist, first suggested this, I -- I didn’t know . . . ”
Lauren let out a small, quiet laugh and nodded. “When you first explained things on the phone, I . . . ”
“Thought I was crazy?” Melissa laughed. “It’s okay. Sometimes I still think I’m crazy, but then I see how Michael responds to this treatment.”
Lauren nodded as they looked down on Michael. Things got quiet in the room and all they could hear was the wet, slurping sounds of his nursing and Linda’s gentle words of encouragement as she stroked his hair: “That’s it, baby girl. What a good baby. That’s Mommy’s sweet baby girl. Yes, it is. I’m so sorry we had to spank, baby, but isn’t everything better now? Yes, everything’s better now, isn’t it? All you needed was your wet nurse’s nipple, wasn’t it? Yes, everything’s better when you stop thinking and just nurse. That’s why you’re going to come here every day. Yes, no more math class for Mommy’s little angel. Your special friend Lauren is going to bring you here every single school day so your wet nurse can give you what you need. No more bagged lunches and lunchtime with the big kids ‘cause you’re not a big kid, are you? No, of course you’re not. You’re Mommy’s special baby girl, and you’re going to be breastfed every single day at school from now on, yes you are!”
This continued on for another ten minutes or so, Lauren and Melissa watching intently but settling into an awed silence at the beauty of what they were witnessing. Over this time, Michael’s crying finally subsided, and he turned towards Linda, almost seeming like he wanted to crawl so deeply into her arms that he disappeared. Over time, he almost seemed like he was sleeping except for the faint, slow, suc-king motion of his mouth. Eventually Linda moved him off of her left breast and put him on her right. Not long after that, the women in the room heard a strange rushing sound and were shocked to see a small jet of pee erupt from Michael’s caged coc-k. Given the downward facing angle his cage positioned his weiner at, the spray mostly soaked Michael’s own thighs, though some of the mess ran on to Linda’s lap as well. Lauren and Melissa were both shocked, but Linda just smiled.
Michael, for his part, barely stirred from the blissed out trance Linda’s breast milk had put him in.
“Ssssshhhhh,” Linda whispered, reassuring the others. “Don’t wake her. This is a good thing. It’s a really good thing, a really important step, one I thought we were still months away from. Melissa, just hand me her pull up, we’ll clean up with that. And don’t worry about me. Believe me, you work around babies long enough, a little pee is no big deal. And truly, this is the sign of something really beautiful beginning for our special girl.”
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Great chapter ! Really want to see what gonna happen next
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Brilliant, really exciting story line, nicely written and I am enjoying your story very much
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Perfect, simply perfect. The drawing you have rendered of this gentle sweet submission to the realization of both needed regressed and feminized states of being, tinged with a slowly evaporating embarrassment from the admission of his truest desires, is perfect. You are hitting all the right notes.
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Thank you all so much for the kind words and encouragement. I've never written a slow burn type of story like this (much less a collaborative one) before now, so I was unsure how people would react to the pacing. In my previous stories, I jumped into things much more quickly, but for this one, PervScenes11 and I wanted to try writing a more gradual descent into regressed sissy babyhood. I'm glad people are enjoying it. The fact that people like it makes me much more confident about continuing to write in the future.
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CHAPTER TEN -- A DAUGHTER FOR THE DAY
“Rise and shine, sweetie!” Melissa called out as she opened the blinds in Michael’s bedroom. The blinds, which she’d put up only a week ago, were a soft shade of lavender, one she’d chosen (not that she’d told Michael this) because she thought they matched Michael’s chastity cage, and they were just one of many changes to Michael’s bedroom that she’d made in the two weeks since they’d dropped his math class and replaced it with a daily breastfeeding session at school.
The first thing to go had been Michael’s sheets. Melissa used to keep his bed made with one of two sets of cotton sheets: dark navy blue or dark grey. Those were gone now, replaced by several sets of sheets made of a silkier material, all in pastel colors: yellow, pale green, peach, baby blue, and a pink set that Melissa had yet to use. Today, though, Michael’s sheets, like his curtains, were lavender. And the new bedspread Melissa had started using was fluffy and white, with delicate lace details. The walls of Michael’s room were different now too. Melissa had not repainted them (yet), but she had taken down all of his posters of cars and bikini models, replacing them with Pokemon and promotional movie posters for Disney Channel movies. When Michael had complained that he hadn’t even seen those movies, Melissa explained that his new TV--a childish looking set in white with lavender trim--had strict parental controls in place, controls that limited his viewing to the Disney Channel and Netflix for kids. Thus, she reasoned, he’d have plenty of opportunity to watch those films, and she just knew he’d love them! Plus, Michael would no longer be distracted by his Playstation. Concerned about the violence in those games he played, Melissa had disconnected it and stored it in the attic. To replace it, she’d given Michael an iPad full of games fit for a preschooler, like Mr. Bunny’s Counting Palace and Delilah’s ABC Race.
In his bed, Michael groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. It was Saturday morning. He wanted to sleep in, and he was annoyed by his Mommy having other plans, so he was whining. But just like with the changes to his sheets and walls, whining was about all he did in the way of resisting. Never one for physical pain, Michael was still terrified of repeating the intense spanking Nurse Linda had given him. Plus, Lauren knew about his baby treatment, and actually seemed enthusiastic about it! That fact depressed him so much that it hardly seemed worth it to continue to fight his Mommy and her weird ideas.
“Come on, sleepy-bear,” Melissa said, sitting on the edge of the bed and nudging Michael on to his back, so he was looking up and facing her. He started to speak, but Melissa was quick to insert a pacifier--the glittery, lavender one that had been his first pacifier since his actual toddler-hood--into his mouth, holding it in place and silencing him. “Nope. No words, okay, baby? Not right yet. Mommy has something special she wants to ask her little baby, and so for right now, baby should be seen and not heard. Do you understand?”
Michael’s stomach sank, as he was immediately worried about what his Mommy might be planning. But he shook his head yes.
“What good baby you are!” Melissa said. “Now, not another word until Mommy tells you, okay?” Michael nodded again. Removing her hand from Michael’s pacifier, Melissa reached down, pulling back the covers, and stuck two fingers inside Michael’s pull-up. “Still dry!” she cooed, as though this was some sort of huge achievement. “But I bet that means Mommy’s sugarplum needs to pee-pee, huh?” Michael nodded yes again, as he did need to pee.
“Good thing Mommy is here to help,” Melissa said. By now, Michael was used to her taking him to the bathroom and supervising his business there, but there was something new about his Mommy’s behavior this morning. As he sat up from bed, she had her arm behind his back as though he needed that support, and instead of just holding his hand as they walked to the bathroom, Melissa stood by his side, holding him close, hip to hip and her arm around his shoulders, in a side hug, as they walked into his bathroom.
Michael was clad only in one of his now-ever-present Princess pull-ups, and once they got into the bathroom, Melissa took that down his legs, singing “Rapunzel go bye-bye,” as Michael sat down to pee with the pull-up at his ankles. He did not like the way his mother was beaming down at him. Something was up, and she was even more smothering than usual, kneeling in front of him and holding both of his hands while he peed, and then not letting him do a thing for himself as she wiped off the end of his cage before getting out a fresh pull-up, this one Belle-themed, and holding it open for him to step into (after she insisted that he put both his hands on her shoulders, “just to be safe.”) Then, much to Michael’s surprise, she lifted him up so that he was straddling her hip, her hands under his butt, and carried him back out to his bed.
Michael was a little too big for Melissa to do this comfortably--she couldn’t have carried him for long--but her heart thrilled to have him in her arms like that again, his darling feet dangling and kicking in the air as she covered the short distance from the bathroom back to the bed. As she sat him down on the bed and then cuddled up behind him so he was wrapped in her arms, Melissa had to admit that her own heart was beating fast, and not just from the physical exertion. She was nervous about what came next, and nervous about how Michael would respond. If he said no, she’d be heartbroken, but maybe a bit relieved? But if he said yes, well . . . Melissa wondered about what would happen today and how she’d feel about it. She knew it had the potential to change their relationship forever.
“Sssssssshhhhh,” Melissa said. “It’s just us, baby. It’s just you and your Mommy. And your Mommy loves you very, very much. And Mommy is going to ask baby a question soon, really soon. And when Mommy asks, she’ll take baby’s pacifier out and then baby can answer, okay? Just as soon as Mommy takes it out, honeybear, but not before.” Tracing a finger along his blushing face, she continued. “Now,” Melissa said, “baby needs to listen. Because baby has a choice to make. A choice about how baby wants to spend baby’s day. Does baby want to be a big boy today? The big boy he’s always insisting he is? ‘Cause we can do that. Mommy can go back downstairs and let baby be a big boy and study really hard for that English test on grammar he has coming up. And the Spanish quiz. And after that, Mommy’s big boy could work on his history project.” Michael’s head spun with anxiety as he thought about all that schoolwork, all of which he felt helpless to even know how to start.
“Or . . . ” Melissa said, pausing dramatically, “or baby could do Mommy a big favor today. Baby could indulge Mommy a little bit by doing a special thing for Mommy. Could baby do that? Could baby be a good baby for Mommy? Could baby spend the day being Mommy’s special little girl?”
Michael went rigid with panic. Squirming in her lap and trying to get away from their shared eye contact, he tried to sit up but she held him in place easily.
“Sssssssshhhhhh,” Melissa said, stroking his hair and settling him back down. “Ssssssssh. Mommy knows it seems weird. And maybe a little scary. But it would just be us, baby. Just you and me and some really nice ladies from A Caring Place. And it would just be for today. You’d just be Mommy’s little baby girl for a day. Just for a day, sweetie. And no one would know. Just us. Just Mommy and Mommy’s sweet baby girl and a few members of baby girl’s care team who love her and always want to keep her safe. And it would just be for fun, baby. Just to see. Just to try it out. Mommy knows baby doesn’t like making decisions, so don’t overthink it, baby.”
Michael was paralyzed now. No movement, no resistance. He didn’t want to do all that schoolwork, but he also didn’t want to be a girl.
“What about this, baby?” Melissa asked. “What about if baby says yes, and baby agrees to be Mommy’s special little girl for the day, what if Mommy lets her special baby girl grow up and go to Lauren’s party next week?”
Michael’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Lauren was indeed having a party next weekend, and even though her house was literally across the street, his Mommy had been evasive and noncommittal about letting him go, saying only that a high school party sounded like a very “mature” event for Michael and that she would have to think about it.
“Yes, baby. You heard right. Spend the day with Mommy today, be Mommy’s little girl and Mommy will let you go to Lauren’s party next weekend. Do you understand?”
Michael nodded yes.
“Okay, baby,” Melissa said, the butterflies in her own stomach surging.
“Mommy is going to take out your pacifier now, and when she does, baby is going to give her an answer. Mommy is going to ask baby what baby’s name is today, and if baby wants to spend baby’s day as a big boy, baby can say Michael. But if baby wants to be good, if baby wants to make baby’s mommy so, so, so happy and spend today as Mommy’s special little girl, well then baby can tell Mommy that baby’s name is Emily. Yes, Emily, because Emily is the special name Mommy had picked out for her baby girl before she found out her baby was going to be Michael. Do you understand, baby? When Mommy takes this pacifier out, she only wants to hear you say Emily or Michael. Michael or Emily. Does baby understand? Nothing else. Anything else and Mommy spanks, okay?”
Michael nodded desperately, trying to tell her he did not need to be spanked.
Although she looked totally calm, cool, and collected on the outside, internally, Melissa was terrified. In recent weeks, Dr. Thurman had been pressing and pressing and pressing her to make what she called “progress” on seeing Michael as a girl. And she said she had the perfect plan to help Melissa see the truth about her “daughter.” But it was important to Melissa, who still felt conflicted about the idea of Michael being a girl, that Michael choose this experiment, that he commit to this day that, if he said yes, would be a day of play and exploration for them both. And if he said no, well, Melissa didn’t know if she’d be relieved or heartbroken.
“So, baby,” Melissa said, “what’s it going to be?” Gently sliding Michael’s pacifier out and staring down at his beautiful face, she asked, “What’s Mommy’s baby’s name today?”
Michael’s jaw worked a few times, his mouth opening and closing silently, before he finally spoke. “E -- Emily, Mommy,” he said. “My name today is Emily.”
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Well done. I'll echo my comments from the other thread here. Appreciate your effort to mix in sweetness and warmth with the always expected sissy stuff!
The very last part has echoes of a theme I was going for in my Clarissa story with the sissy reaffirming their sissy state.
Looks like it's Baby Emily's time now!
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Thank you so, so much to everyone who has posted kind, encouraging feedback on our story. I love a long, slow-burn story, but like CuddleBunns, I was worried it might bore people. Thank you to everyone for being so supportive of my first story. It's been an honor and a pleasure to get to work with CuddleBunns, and a treat to see it so well-received here.
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I thought for sure Mommy was going to open her bra and start to breastfeed Emily. Mommy had started hormones to stimulate her milk production. But hay, I like what happened anyway.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN -- A MOTHER-DAUGHTER OUTING
“Melissa Harper, here to check in my . . . well . . . my daughter, Emily.”
Michael, standing at his Mommy’s side and holding her hand, wasn’t quite tall enough to see into the receptionist’s desk area at A Caring Place, but he blushed nonetheless hearing his Mommy use a girl’s name to refer to him in front of another adult. Truly, he couldn’t even believe he was here and that this was happening. Everything since he’d agreed to be Emily for the day had happened so fast: the happy tears his Mommy had cried, the bath she gave him, the brief freedom from his cage it afforded, and the disappointment of it being locked back on after his Mommy had dried him and coated his body in floral-smelling lotion. After that, Mihcael had assumed he’d get some breakfast, but his Mommy had said not to worry about that “because Nurse Linda will take care of you later today.” After that, she dressed him in what had to be the sissiest combination of clothes he owned: a pale pink polo shirt and a pair of white shorts with a very short inseam (with his ever-present pull-up underneath it). After putting plain white socks and sneakers on her daughter-for-the-day, Melissa had then rushed them into her mini-van and driven them to A Caring Place, with the soundtrack for High School Musical playing at full blast during the ride (with Melissa skipping all the songs sung by boys).
“Yes, ma’am,” the receptionist replied to Melissa. “We’ve got you right here for a . . . oh, Dr. Thurman has reserved the entire boutique for you and your daughter. What a special day you two are going to have!”
As Melissa thanked the receptionist and gushed about how excited she was about this mother-daughter outing, a door leading deeper into A Caring Place opened and a young woman entered. She was not dressed in a nurse’s uniform, but in expensive-looking business casual wear: skin-tight, dark wash jeans and an off-white flowy blouse. She was in terrific shape and was very young, only 19. As Michael ran his eyes up her smoking hot body, his blood ran cold as he realized that he recognized her.
“Mrs. Harper,” the young woman said, extending a hand to Melissa, “Hi, I’m Taylor Brown. I’ll be your fashion consultant in the boutique today.”
“Thank you so much, Taylor,” Melissa said, “it’s lovely to meet you, and this shy little cuddlebug is my . . . daughter, Emily.”
Michael, desperate for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole, had been trying to hide behind Melissa’s legs. Taylor’s little sister, Madison, was in his grade (and several of his classes) at school. Taylor herself had been a senior last year when Michael had been a freshmen, and while Lauren was always the love of his life, he never missed the chance, last year, to ogle Taylor’s curvy butt and big breasts as she walked through the hallways with all the other popular senior girls. Now, all he could do was pray that he’d been too young and too uncool to escape her notice then, so that maybe she wouldn’t recognize him now.
“Emily, huh?” Taylor said with a laugh as she knelt down and grabbed Michael’s face, forcing eye contact. “Well that’s a very pretty name, one that suits you a lot better than the name you were using the last time I saw you.”
“Oh, do you know Mic -- I mean, Emily?” Melissa asked.
“Of course!” Taylor cooed, reaching out and booping the ring on the end of his pacifier, “I went to East too, just graduated last year, and I’m working here part-time while I finish up my AA degree.”
“Well, East is a pretty big school,” Melissa said, “I’m amazed Mi -- Emily here made an impression on you. Were you two friends?”
“Oh no,” Taylor said, with a small laugh. “But my little sister is in Emily’s grade, and everybody always talked about the femmy little freshman who looked like she was still in elementary school.”
Michael wanted to die. He was so humiliated his legs felt wobbly underneath him. His Mommy had promised him no one would know about today! She had to see that that was no longer possible, right? She had to call an abort to this whole crazy “daughter” thing now, right?
“Well, in that case Taylor,” Melissa said, “I’m so very glad we got you to help us today. Emily and I both are both really new to . . . well, to Emily being a girl, and so I’m so glad that she’ll have someone she’s familiar with to guide her through the process.”
Taylor just smirked at Michael and said, “Oh, yeah. Absolutely. I think you could be a very pretty girl, Miss Emily, if we can only get you out of these nasty tomboy clothes.But lucky for you, that’s exactly what we’re going to do today! Let’s go ahead and get you checked in.”
Taylor took one of Michael’s hands, and his Mommy took the other.
Tottering between them, Michael was led back into a check-in room. Much like the very first room he’d visited here, this one looked like a pediatrician’s exam room, albeit one with a totally pink color scheme. Remembering that it was in a room like this one that he had his pubic hair taken away and first got put into his cage, he was immediately on edge.
“Okay, sugarplum,” Taylor said, in a tone that Michael thought was a little bit mocking and also a little bit indulgent, “you get to spend your day in the boutique today, but the boutique is a very special place where no boys are allowed ever. But you’re not a boy, are you?”
Blushing and unsure of what to do, Michael started down and suc-ked harder on his pacifier.
“Sweetie,” Taylor said, “I asked you a question. Are you a boy?”
Michael felt his Mommy nudge him in the back and, still not able to make eye contact with Taylor, he shook his head no. Behind him, his Mommy squealed with delight.
“Well,” Taylor said, “if you’re not a boy, then let’s get you out of these awful tomboy clothes so we can get you down to the boutique right away!”
Within a minute, Taylor and Melissa had stripped Michael down to his pull-up. Taylor even took his socks and shoes off. While Michael was feeling incredibly babyish in just his pink princess pull-up and pacifier, the women once again each took one of his hands and led him, stumbling between them on bare feet, deeper into A Caring Place. Michael was used to being taken from a check-in room to the girly nursery where Nurse Linda breastfed him, but today Taylor and his Mommy led him past that room and deeper into the building. After enough twists and turns through relatively bland and anonymous hallways that Michael felt helplessly lost, the trio arrived at two plain looking double-doors with a small sign outside them that read “Boutique, Interior Entrance.”
Taylor pushed open one of the double doors and pulled Michael along behind her. His eyes bugged out and his Mommy, behind him, audibly gasped when they looked at the room they’d just entered. It was huge, something akin, size-wise, to a small hotel conference room, and every inch of it was decked out in frilly, prissy finery. The room was covered in soft white carpeting, and it looked like the little girls’ section of a high-end department store. Clothing racks filled the floor, and each of those racks were filled with dresses and rompers and girly t-shirts. Everywhere Michael looked he saw glitter and bows and lace and satin and childish designs, all in muted, pastel, feminine colors. White shelving was built into the walls, and that too contained merchandise: sashes and ribbons and hair barrettes and hair brushes and bracelets and necklaces and shoes and everything else a fussy, demanding little princess could ever have dreamed of.
“Oh my,” Melissa said, almost dropping Michael’s hand in shock as she took the room in.
“It really is something, isn’t it?” Taylor giggled as she led mother and daughter deeper into the boutique. “Everything here is super high-end. Dr. Thurman really spared no expense.” Looking down at Michael, clad only in his pull-up and nursing on his pacifier, she said, “this is probably the fanciest dress shop for little girls in the whole country, and only very special little girls get to come here.”
“Emily,” Melissa said, “Dr. Thurman cleared the whole store for us today! We’re their only customers! Isn’t it just a dream come true?”
Michael, who felt extremely exposed and extremely nervous about what might be to come today, suc-ked on his pacifier and said nothing. As Taylor led them deeper into the store, the tall rows of clothing racks that had been blocking his view parted, and Michael could see that there was a large, clear space at the center of the store. Elevated so that it sat above the sales floor and all of its prissy wonders, the center of the room contained a huge trifold mirror and a short, elevated platform--a fashion runway with stage lights lining its edges. Three chairs were arranged facing the runway and the mirror. Nurse Linda, in a white bathrobe, sat in the left chair. Dr. Thurman, looking as slick and intimidating as ever, was in the right chair. The middle chair was empty, apparently being saved for Michael’s Mommy.
“Melissa,” Dr. Thurman said with a huge smile, “it’s so good to see you. And to see Emily. I know this is going to be a very special day for both of you.”
Michael was struck, as he always was when he saw Dr. Thurman, by how she talked about him and very rarely to him. But Melissa didn’t seem to mind that. She nodded, and clutched one hand to her chest, clearly overcome with emotion. Michael wasn’t exactly sure why, but he could tell his Mommy was on the verge of tears again. But Michael himself was on the verge of something else, and he tugged at Melissa’s hand that was holding his. When she looked down at him, he mumbled around his pacifier, “Mommy, I need to pee.”
“Emily!” Melissa said, clearly embarrassed, “no talking!”
“She’s new here,” Nurse Linda said, smiling indulgently as she rose and went to a nearby closet. “And I’ve got just the thing for our special girl.” Michael felt faint as he saw what she was returning with: a pink plastic child’s potty. Nurse Linda set in on the floor in front of the women’s chairs, and Michael felt his knees buckle with humiliation. He bleated into his pacifier, trying to explain that no, he didn’t need that, he could wait. But no one paid him any attention, and his Mommy, clearly thrilled by the idea of him using the potty, quickly pulled down his pull-ups, leaving him naked, except for his cage, in front of all of these women. Of course his Mommy, Dr. Thurman, and Nurse Linda had seen Michael like this before, but he was acutely aware of Taylor’s presence. Her little sister was in his class at school! Would Taylor tell her about the high school sophomore in a chastity cage who was about to be sat on a child’s potty? As Nurse Linda and his Mommy sat him down on the pink potty, he felt some small relief that Taylor had stepped away for a moment. Still, as he squatted and his bare buns touched the pink plastic of the potty, he didn’t see a way that whatever scraps of a high school reputation he had left could possibly survive this.
“There you go!” his Mommy squealed with glee as she let go of his hands and stepped back, joining Nurse Linda and Dr. Thurman in their chairs. Michael blushed furiously as he found himself eye level with the shoes of these three women who had already re-shaped his life (and clearly had further plans to do so).
“You just go ahead and tinkle, Miss Emily,” Nurse Linda said. “You go ahead and just pee your pee-pee right in your potty like a big girl.”
Michael did need to pee really badly, but his nudity and the absurdity of the child’s potty had spiked his embarrassment level badly. He didn’t know if he could pee.
“Awwww, Mommy’s special baby girl just needs to be comforted, doesn’t she?” Nurse Linda said, getting out of her chair and kneeling by Michael as he crouched on the potty. Taking one of his hands, she held it between both of her own. The way she was kneeling, it put her huge cleavage very close to Michael’s face, and he couldn’t help but stare. He was still humiliated to think about the fact that he was a breastfeeder now, but deep down, he had to admit that he was fascinated with Linda’s huge breasts and silver-dollar-sized areolas. Once he started nursing from her, he could never stop until he was totally blissed out.
“Look how attuned to Linda’s breasts she is,” Dr. Thurman said.
“Oh, yes,” Melissa said, beaming with pride, “we haven’t missed a nursing session since she started.”
Michael blushed crimson and squirmed with the uncomfortable sensation of needing to pee but not being able to let go. “It’s okay, sugar,” Nurse Linda said, “just be a good girl and wet in your potty for us. Can you do that, big girl? Can Nurse Linda’s sweet little Emily pee pee in her potty like a big girl?”
“Don’t you worry, Emily,” Dr. Thurman said, “you don’t have to get too used to your potty. It’s not something you’ll be using for very long.” Her words confused Michael. On the one hand, he was glad to hear that this potty wouldn’t become a regular thing. What Dr. Thurman had said pleased him, but the way she said it made him distinctly nervous.
As Linda continued to soothe Michael while he sat on the potty, Taylor returned. To his horror, Michael could see that she was carrying a baby bottle. Made of glittery, see-through pink plastic, it was clearly full of milk.
“Oh,” Melissa said to Dr. Thurman, “does this have . . . ?”
“Yes. Everything we talked about, Melissa. It’s temporary, just for the afternoon, but it should give you a small taste of what’s possible with the full treatment.”
“Ms. Harper?” Taylor asked, “could I give Emily her bottle?”
“Oh, how sweet of you!” Melissa gushed. “Please do!”
With Linda still on one side of him, Taylor knelt on the other. “Here we go, Miss Priss! Now, are you going to be a good girl for me, today? I bet you are! I bet Emily is going to be a good girl for her Mommy and her Wet Nurse and her Doctor. So when I take your paci out, it’s no talking Princess. Not a word, just your yummy-nummy bottle, okay?” In one swift motion, Taylor pulled Michael’s pacifier and replaced it with the rubber nipple of the baby bottle, which, of course, she held for Michael, never even giving him the option of holding it for himself.
It was all too much for Michael: the cloying taste of warm baby formula on his tongue, the plastic smell of both the bottle and the potty he was sitting on, his nudity, Linda’s comforting hand running up and down his back,
Taylor’s beautiful face just inches from his own, his Mommy and Dr. Thurman looking down on all of this, on his abject humiliation. With a small cry, muffled by the bottle teat, his bladder gave out and the whole room could hear the tell-tale sound of him pissing into the potty.
“What a good girl you are,” Linda cooed.
“Good girl, princess!” Taylor said. “Nurse your ba-ba, baby.”
Melissa wept tears of joy, and Dr. Thurman looked on with smug assurance.
Tears streamed down Michael’s face, but Linda kept praising him for peeing in his potty, and Taylor kept praising him for nursing from his bottle (while being rather aggressive about making sure that he did so). “Look how excited she is to have her big girly day,” Taylor said, wiping Michael’s tears away as he nursed the bottle. When he finally finished peeing, he still had about half the large bottle to go. Taylor was relentless about tilting it back and keeping the flow of formula coming. Michael had no choice but to swallow, and the women chatted amongst themselves as he finished his bottle while still on the potty.
When his bottle was finally finished, Taylor stood Michael up and held out his pull-up for him to step into, insisting that he put his hands on her shoulders for support as he did so. Then, to his surprise, she took his hand and began leading him away from the other women, including his Mommy. When he let out an audible cry of distress around his pacifier, Taylor said, “Hush, baby girl. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take you and help you get dressed in some beautiful looks. Then I’m going to help you come out and show those looks off to your Mommy. So wave goodbye, sweetie.” Michael felt like a fool as Taylor took his arm and physically made him wave goodbye to his Mommy, his wet nurse, and his therapist. The three women waved goodbye in return, and then Taylor was leading him off again, her hand firmly wrapped around his own as though he needed her guidance to get anywhere.
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Taylor led Michael out of the central area of the store and back into the maze of clothing racks. Twisting and turning past a seemingly endless array of little girl party dresses, Taylor took them to a large dressing room. About the size of a bathroom in a luxury home, the dressing room was simply adorned while still keeping with the boutique’s white-with-pink-trim decor. It had a vanity with a large mirror, a large white leather sofa, and a huge, floor-to-ceiling trifold mirror with a small raised block for a model to stand on. Several racks of clothing stood to one side of the room, each look on them contained within a pink plastic garment bag that hid the interior contents.
As they got into the room, Taylor released Michael’s hand and closed and locked the door behind them. As she did so, Michael realized that he was suddenly feeling really warm and a little dizzy. Taylor, seeing his look of distress, crossed to him and put the back of her hand to his forehead. “Ooooh, poor baby. That bottle is really hitting you quick, isn’t it? That’s okay, sweetheart. Tay-tay has just the thing for Mommy’s baby girl.” Panicked and wondering what was in the bottle he’d just drank, Michael looked on in horror as Taylor reached behind the couch and produced what looked like an over-sized child’s car seat. Tilted at a 45 degree angle, it looked like the kind of thing a parent puts an infant in to secure it for a road trip, but it was obviously sized for him. Michael didn’t want to sit in it, but he was feeling increasingly dizzy and his legs felt weak and shaky, so he didn’t resist as Taylor sat him down in the pink and white contraption. It was a relief to sit and be supported, but he felt deep humiliation as Taylor enclosed his thighs and chest in safety straps and then closed a safety bar down over his head, one that had babyish games like a spinner and three plastic rings on the side nearest to him.
“Please,” he said, crying again now with the humiliations of the morning and the anesthetic effects of the bottle he’d drank kicking in. Not even sure exactly what he was asking for, he let his pacifier drop from his mouth and looked up at Taylor. “Please. Please help me.”
“Hush, baby,” Taylor said, quickly re-inserting his pacifier. Holding eye contact with him, she got a very serious look on her face and, for a moment, dropped the baby-talk. “Look. No one is going to hurt you today. We’re just here to help you be the best baby girl you can be. And let me tell you, sissypants, you’d better just accept that you ARE a baby girl now. Dr. Thurman said your Mommy was kind of iffy about your treatment, but we’re going to fix that today. The sooner you let go of any sense that you are--or ever were--a teenage boy, the easier this is going to be for you. And face it, princess, this is for the best.”
“Wh--wha did yew do tah meeee?” Michael, drooling heavily now, mumbled around his pacifier.
“Ssssshhh. Just lay back, princess. Precious Emily’s little bottle just had a few things in it to help her relax today, to ease her anxiety. Will it make standing and walking and talking a little harder for Mommy’s special baby girl? Sure. But that’s what Miss Tay-tay is here to help with, Miss Priss! So don’t you worry, you’re still going to walk the runway like the prettiest little girl at the pageant, which is exactly what Miss Tay-tay is going to help you be today.”
With a Kleenex, Taylor wiped away Michael’s tears. “Now,” she said, “let’s get started on your makeup.”
Back in the center of the boutique, Melissa was enjoying a hot cup of tea and a great conversation with Nurse Linda and Dr. Thurman. Nurse Linda gave both women updates about how Emily’s at-school nursing sessions were going, and suggested that Melissa consider pulling Emily from the class after lunch as well, since Emily was more and more often in need of a good nap after a long nursing session. Melissa said she understood and praised Dr. Thurman for suggesting breastfeeding in the first place.
“It’s such an important step,” Dr. Thurman said. “For many girls like Emily, it’s the necessary first step because it helps establish a pattern of neediness and dependency. It takes one meal out of their day and changes it from something they get for themselves into something that’s given to them. And it ties them, via need, to a powerful female authority figure. That’s foundational for the rest of the therapy to come. Speaking of which . . . ”
“Yes?” Melissa asked.
“Well, how are you feeling about today?” Dr. Thurman inquired. “It’s the first day I’ve heard you use the proper pronouns for your daughter, and I know that’s a step you’ve been resistant to in the past.”
“Well, it’s just for today,” Melissa said, blushing, “just a little experiment that Mich--well, that Emily and I are trying.”
“And how does that experiment feel so far?” Linda asked.
But before Melissa could answer, the pink velvet curtain at the end of the runway opened, revealing Taylor standing there with a huge smile on her face. Emily was clearly hiding behind her, but could not, for the moment, be seen.
“Ms. Harper,” Taylor said, “we’d love for you to meet your daughter, Emily.” With that, she turned and pushed Emily in front of her. What Melissa saw then took her breath away. Emily, still nursing her pacifier, had been dressed in a little girl’s spandex, one-piece swimsuit. Its top was asymmetrical: one thin spaghetti strap leading down into a glitter-covered lavender star. Underneath that star was a wide, sparkly baby-blue ruffle and that ruffle arced upwards to the other shoulder strap. The suit itself was baby blue with lavender trim at the top and had a print of Ariel from The Little Mermaid on it. The suit’s leg openings were girl-cut, cut high on the thigh. The suit’s spandex was so tight that Melissa could tell that Emily’s pull-up had been taken off; her coc-kcage could be seen clearly through the thin material. Bare from the top of her hairless thighs all the way down to her ankles, Emily teetered uncertainly on her feet, which were clad in matching baby blue flip-flops with big, plastic, lavender flowers on the strap.
Nurse Linda got out of her seat and began taking pictures with her cell phone while Taylor took Emily’s hand and guided the shaky-legged teenage toddler down the runway. Melissa, not even conscious of her actions, got out of her own seat and moved to the edge of the runway to get a closer look.
“As you might imagine, we don’t have a lot of inventory in the boutique that’s blue,” Dr. Thurman said, “but since you’ve been having some trouble with Emily’s transformation, I wanted to start with what passes for the most adult and most boyish outfit we had. Hence the blue, and the lack of a pull-up.”
Melissa was unable to take her eyes off of Emily as Taylor led Emily down the runway and towards her. Yes, the suit was blue, but to call it boyish, or adult, was absurd. It had always seemed odd to Melissa that Linda and Dr. Thurman had called her child a girl, but now? Here? In this outfit? It was hard to argue with their assessment.
“Oh my God,” Melissa said, as Taylor and Emily reached the end of the runway. “Taylor, you’ve done her make-up!”
“Just a little,” Taylor laughed, obviously kidding. Emily’s face was fully made-up with foundation, pink blush, pink lipstick, pink eyeshadow, and big false lashes. While her hair still looked short and boyish, she could have otherwise passed for a Toddlers and Tiaras contestant.
“Oh sweetheart,” Melissa gushed, reaching up to stroke Emily’s hairless thighs. “You look so beautiful, Emily. So completely beautiful.”
Emily, for his part, felt dazed and out of it. Whatever had been in that bottle he drank kept him feeling dazed, weak, and slightly dizzy. He was glad Taylor was there to help steady him, as standing on his own felt increasingly difficult. And he didn’t know how to feel: he felt stupid and humiliated and on display and exposed, mortified that Nurse Linda was taking so many pictures. But he could also see how happy his Mommy was. It had been a long time since Emily had seen his Mommy that happy. All of last year was tears and fights about missing homework and worry and stress. Emily didn’t like what was happening to him, but he did like seeing her Mommy happy.
And that’s how the day went: Taylor taking Emily back to the back and dressing her in another girly outfit, then holding her hand as they paraded down the runway to show off for Emily’s mommy. Emily’s pull-up was put back on, and there was a pink onesie. Then a yellow-and-white checked toddler girl top with matching short shorts and white sandals. Then a pink top that said “Princess” in glitter and a matching pink miniskirt. Melissa bought every piece of clothing she loved on Emily, and Melissa loved them all.
Then they took a lunch break: Taylor, Melissa, and Dr. Thurman eating delicious catered boxed lunches while Nurse Linda breastfed Emily in front of them. After a short nap on Linda’s lap, Taylor took the still-groggy baby girl back to the back for another round of dress-up.
The first look after lunch was a big step up, both in terms of feminization and infantilization, and it broke something in Melissa. She could never be the same again after the curtain at the top of the runway parted and she saw her daughter in her first true dress. It was lavender of course--the “signature color” Melissa had chosen for Emily’s coc-kcage--a lavender satin dream with poofy shoulders and white lace trim everywhere. The hem of the toddler’s party dress barely came below Emily’s navel, and below its voluminous tulle skirting, Melissa could clearly see that Emily had been put into a very thick diaper, one that was then covered in translucent white plastic panties with a nursery print pattern. The dress had a wide white sash tied in a huge bow in the back, and Emily--who’d been given a second laced bottle in the dressing room--tottered uncertainly down the runway, his hairless legs bare until they came to lacy white ankle socks with lavender lace trim and a pair of white girl’s Keds sneakers that had had their white laces replaced with lavender ribbon. Melissa sobbed immediately upon seeing this vision of her daughter and raced, once again, to the end of the runway to feel on his legs and tell him how beautiful he looked.
Emily himself was, at this point, feeling very out of it, very warm and soft and tired and confused. Standing at the end of the runway with Taylor holding his arms over her head and Melissa hugging his legs and crying into them, he felt utterly helpless and somewhere ten steps beyond hopelessly humiliated. Dimly, he recalled that she was doing all of this so that she could go to Lauren’s party. And he did want to go. But something about his Mommy’s intense emotional reaction to this fashion show really worried him. As Emily, with a hazy head, tried to connect the dots and think about why he was worried, he felt a sudden hot wetness around his crotch. Letting out a small cry, Emily dropped the pacifier out of his mouth. It fell to the floor of the runway, trailing a long string of drool behind it as Emily’s legs gave out and Taylor lowered him to her knees.
Melissa, her hand rushing to the front of Emily’s plastic-panty-clad diaper, gasped. “I . . . I think she’s wetting! My baby girl is wetting! Mommy’s baby girl is wetting.”
As the women surrounding and supporting him applauded and cheered and cried, Emily had no choice but to finish wetting his diaper. Shaking with humiliation, he was utterly defeated and could only cry as his Mommy held him and praised him for being such a good baby girl.
Many minutes later, when Taylor led Emily off to try on another outfit, Dr. Thurman sat with Melissa, helping her dry her tears and recover herself. “This is a perfectly normal reaction, Melissa,” she counseled. “It can be overwhelming, or maybe even upsetting, when we see who our child really is for the first time. It won’t always feel like this --”
“I’m not upset,” Melissa said, wiping at her eyes with a Kleenex. “I’m not upset, I’m happy. And I don’t want to ever NOT feel this way about my daughter. I’m ready, Doctor. You have my permission. You have my greenlight.”
“For Phase Two?” Dr. Thurman asked.
Melissa nodded. “For Phase Two. For Phase Three. For Phase Four if you have one. Make it happen. Make it all happen. I want my precious baby girl to be mine. Forever.”
Dr. Thurman simply smiled and nodded. It had taken a bit more time than she’d bargained for, but she remained convinced that Melissa was the true believer Mom she’d been hoping for for all these years.
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Great story CuddleBunns and PervScenes11! Love how you have upped the ante with Emily and especially the interaction with Taylor.
I had planned to post another story update of my own today, but I think I'll wait a bit out of consideration for your work. It always strikes me as slightly rude when someone works hard on a story and posts a nice update only to have another poster cover it up with nonsense an hour or two later.
It's most annoying when the "piggyback" poster has nothing worthwhile to add to the conversation. I realize it's usually unintentional, but that's just me
Nice job on your story. Hugs!
Bump.
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A lovely story thank you - just loving the story line!
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Great story! While it seems as if Emily/Michael is being coerced there is certainly evidence that he wants what he is getting, otherwise why wouldn't he fight the breastfeeding, removal from class, wardrobe changes to date, etc. Although all the women seem to have their own agendas, significant and minor, as well as deriving sexual stimulation of greater or lesser degree from Michael's transformation, the story conveys a sense of concern for Michael/Emily as well. Also, great writing bringing out the protagonist's indecision and ambivalence.
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Babycakes, I agree with your perception that Michael has not been putting up serious rebellion against his mom's plot because, inwardly, he desires to be the precious girl his mom was dreaming about before he was born. We learn in Chapter 1 that prior to Dr. Thurman he had undergone psychotherapy to mitigate his anxiety. I believe his anxiety is due to gender dysphoria which has been distressing him for years. He has never had male friends, nor does he desire any. He loved playing dolls with Lauren, his B.F.F. from across the street. Now that they're older, more than anything else, he enjoys hanging out with Lauren and her girlfriends. He loves to braid their hair and listen to their gossip. He sees himself as one of them. Just like the protagonist in Jemina 04's "Ashley's Babysitter," Michael/Emily will only be at peace when he longer has to make any choices for himself and, instead, can depend on his mom and other women to regress him to babyhood. It will help if Dr. Thurman starts him on testosterone blockers soon.
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My only complaint about this story is that its only being updated weekly :(
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I agree with baby cakes. Another excellent chapter.
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Thank you so much, everyone. I'm glad to see that people are still enjoying the story. We're getting closer to the point when Melissa and Dr Thurman's plans start coming together, so I'm excited to see what people think once we get to that point in the story.
And I hear you, milky_mike. If I could post updates more frequently I would, but since PervScenes11 and I often aren't able to write quite as frequently as we would like to, it was decided early on that it'd be better to just wait until we had a good amount of chapters already written and post a part weekly, so that we would have time to stay ahead and be consistent instead of just dumping everything at once and making people wait weeks on end for more. Hopefully the chapters feel long enough that people don't feel like we're just stringing them along, since I know how painful waiting can feel lol.
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CHAPTER TWELVE--LAUREN’S PARTY
As Michael rode in the back of his mommy’s van, he was having second thoughts about attending Lauren’s party. Melissa had thankfully let Michael go back to being a boy for the time being, but after his latest outing at A Caring Place, Michael was worried about his future, worried that his afternoon of dress-up might have altered his Mommy’s view of him forever. Oddly enough, since his day modeling looks in A Caring Place’s boutique, Melissa seemed to be paying him less attention than usual, and was spending almost all of her free time locked away in her office typing away at her computer and taking phone calls from Dr. Thurman. God only knew what they were talking about.
Unfortunately for Michael, the embarrassing routines he’d been accustomed to were still going on in full swing, even if Melissa was busy. Just today, in fact, he had found himself unable to attend a class-wide field trip to a stage performance at the local theatre after Melissa refused to sign his permission slip, declaring that the contents of the stage show (an adaption of Sidney Lumet’s classic 12 Angry Men) were “too mature” for her precious little sweet pea. So instead of going on a field trip with his friends and peers, Michael instead spent his school day locked in the school nurse’s office with Nurse Linda, who doted over him constantly and insisted on breastfeeding him not once but twice. After those sessions--and the naps Nurse Linda insisted he take after them--Michael barely had any time to catch up on the mountain of missing schoolwork that loomed over him. He couldn’t help but once again feel as though he’d been isolated against his will from the rest of the kids in his age group.
After school, Melissa had picked Michael up and then taken him out with her for an afternoon of errand-running. Finally, after the bank and the dry cleaners and the grocery store, Melissa was driving them back towards their neighborhood, and Lauren’s house. Michael looked down glumly at the outfit Melissa had dressed him in. Even if he was “allowed” to be a boy again, he couldn’t help but wonder how much Melissa would rather at this point that he wasn’t. After Michael’s breastfeeding sessions this morning, Nurse Linda had dressed him in a white t-shirt, which was embroiled with a picture of Wonder Woman (conveniently pointing out her superhero status to quash any complaints that it was a shirt for girls, of course), as well as a pair of pink shorts, which were much shorter than the knee-length cargo shorts he was accustomed to. She had also given him a pair of white Sketchers sneakers that featured tiny pink accents to match his outfit. To Michael’s eyes, these were obviously shoes for girls, but Melissa, when she saw the whole girlish ensemble, vehemently insisted that there was nothing wrong with it. Feeling anxious as he sat in the backseat, Michael nursed his pacifier--a small white one with rainbow sparkles on it--and thought about the night ahead. He’d wanted so badly, for so long, to go to Lauren’s party, and he was overjoyed and surprised when his Mommy had said he could spend the night at Lauren’s, but now that the big night was here, he felt more nervous about it than happy. He couldn’t say exactly why, but somehow even in giving him what he wanted, his Mommy had found a way to enforce her own agenda.
He was so lost in thought that he barely realized when they’d arrived at Lauren’s house. Once the van was parked, Melissa reached over and picked up the birthday card she’d picked out for Michael to give to Lauren. It featured a picture of two anthropomorphized unicorns in tiaras embracing each other in a friendly hug, as well as large, purple, bedazzled text which read “Happy Birthday, Bestie!”
“What do you think, sweetie?” Melissa asked. “Isn’t this perfect?”
Michael looked over the card and cringed. Popping his pacifier out of his mouth, he mumbled, “Mommy, that’s a card for little girls, I can’t give Lauren that. Everyone will laugh at me.”
Melissa ignored his qualms. “Well, I think it’s simply adorable!,” she said before taking a pen out from the glove compartment and starting to write a message on the card for Lauren.
“What are you writing, mommy? Shouldn’t I write something? Since, you know, I’m the one who’s going to be giving it to her?” Michael asked. Melissa finished writing and turned around to hand him the card and pen.
“I just want it to look nice, baby. You know how your handwriting can be sometimes,” she teased playfully. “You should at least sign it though, so she knows that you care!”
Michael made a cross face as he signed the card before handing it back to his mother. She thankfully had not written anything too embarrassing inside, just a standard happy birthday message, but placing his name on such a sissyish and juvenile card made him feel all the more complicit in his mother’s scheme, and would give him less plausible deniability when he eventually had to give Lauren the embarrassing gift.
Melissa took the card back, looked at Michael’s signature and frowned. She didn’t say anything, but Michael knew, instinctually, that she was disappointed that he’d signed his name as “Michael” instead of Emily.
“Okay,” Melissa said, seeming to intentionally raise her spirits as she slipped a crisp twenty dollar bill and placed it inside the card. Tucking the card into its pink envelope and sealing it, she said “Now let’s get my little plum over to the party, so she can have some fun!”
Melissa knew she had made a mistake with her slip up in pronouns, but Michael was so wary over her disappointment about his signature that he did not challenge her. She got out to unbuckle him, taking his hand in hers before cheerfully leading him up to Lauren’s front door.
Once they arrived at Lauren’s house, Michael began to grow quite anxious. Because some of Lauren’s friends could drive, the driveway had a few more cars than usual, and Michael recognized at least one of them as belonging to Heather, who would be sure to have something to say about the humiliating way he was dressed, let alone the embarrassing card his mother had picked out for him. Melissa was quite oblivious to Michael’s apprehension, however, and simply stared forward with a wide grin as she rang the doorbell and waited on the porch hand in hand with her sissified son.
Moments later, Lauren’s mother, Sherry, answered the door. As she did so, Michael instinctively shuddered. He had always been more than a little intimidated by Sherry. She was a go-getter and accomplished businesswoman who had built a hugely successful career for herself after her husband had abandoned her and left her to raise two daughters on her own. Perhaps because of her own high levels of confidence and initiative, Sherry had never thought much of Michael, who she saw as clingy, immature, and pathetic. In Sherry’s estimation, Michael was not worthy of the time Lauren spent with him, and on past visits, she’d never been shy about telling him exactly that. She’d also always turned a blind eye to the odd, teasing treatment that Lauren and her friends would sometimes subject Michael to. Standing on Sherry’s front doorstop, dressed in the juvenile, feminine outfit he was wearing and holding his Mommy’s hand, Michael expected Sherry to heap even more scorn than usual upon him.
“Melissa!” Sherry said as she opened the front door. “It’s so nice to see you! Come on in, everyone is here, and they can’t wait to see you and little Emily here!”
Michael’s knees buckled with shock and his mind raced as Sherry used his little girl name.
“Don’t be rude, Emily,” his Mommy said with a grin as she pulled him across the threshold.
“My -- my name is Michael!” Michael declared, trying to salvage some shred of dignity. He looked up at Sherry, trying his best to appeal to her as he said, “My name is Michael!”
“It’s just like you said it would be,” Sherry said to Melissa, “she’s in denial.”
Melissa nodded. “Sherry, please forgive us. We’ll just be a moment.”
Sherry nodded in understanding, saying “Come on in when you’re ready, the girls will be so excited that Emily is here!”
As Sherry retreated further into the house, Melissa knelt and faced her daughter, who was crying and almost hyperventilating.
“You -- you told her--? She -- she called me E -- Em --” Emily stammered. “I -- I’m a boy! How could you do this to me? I’m a boy!”
“Not tonight you’re not, sweetheart,” Melissa said, taking Emily’s hands.
“How -- how could you -- why are you ruining my life?” Emily sobbed.
“Ruining your life?” Melissa said sweetly. “Honey, all you’ve wanted, all you’ve talked about for the last month is this party and how much you wanted to come. Well, baby, it’s a girl’s party. It’s a girls’ spend-the-night. Ms. Alford wasn’t going to let a boy spend the night with her daughter! And I knew how sad you’d be if you couldn’t come, so I let her know about your special therapy and how you’ve been spending more time as a girl lately!”
“Spending more time?” Michael spat, “you make me!”
“I make you? Emily, stop telling fibs. After all, who chose to be Emily and spend a big fancy day playing dress up with me at A Caring Place? Who chose that? That was you, sugar-bear! Now, no one here cares a bit about you being Little Miss Emily today. So how about we stop crying and get my little girl to the party she’s been so excited about?”
Numb with shock and humiliation, Michael had to face facts. He was about to be led into Lauren’s sweet sixteen party not as a boy named Michael, but as a little girl named Emily. It felt like a waking nightmare and was all too much to process. Some part of Emily’s brain turned off, and he stopped fighting. He stumbled along behind his Mommy as his Mommy led him deeper into the house, where the party was taking place. The sound of gleeful chatter and laughter began resonating from within the house, enveloping Emily in an anxiety-inducing blanket. As they entered the house’s formal living room, Melissa hugged Sherry warmly, and then handed her both Lauren’s birthday card and the large pink bag she had draped around her shoulder.
While the two mothers were busy talking to each other, Emily immediately spotted Lauren down the hall in the kitchen, where she stood preoccupied refilling a cup of punch. Emily thought Lauren was as beautiful as ever, wearing a striking blue party dress with a complementary pair of medium-length white heels, and two large hoop earrings. Her hair was braided into an elaborate bun, and this choice of hairstyle did a great job of showing off her perfectly-applied makeup. She looked up from her spot at the punch bowl and gasped as soon as she noticed Emily standing in the doorway.
“Emily!” She cried out suddenly, placing her punch down to run over and greet her with a suffocating hug. “You look so freaking cute! Thank you so much for coming to my party!”
Emily grew red and struggled to breathe while Lauren’s arms enveloped him. She was never this touchy-feely with him before, but ever since the day that he had wet himself at school and admitted to her how Melissa had been treating him, she was much more handsy, probably because she no longer saw him as a sexual being in any way, shape, or form.
“H . . . hi Lauren,” Emily greeted her feebly. She was so intoxicatingly beautiful that he was finding it hard to even think. “You...you look very pretty today. H . . . happy sixteenth.”
Lauren thought it was cute how Emily was acting so coy. She teasingly kissed him on the forehead just to fluster him even more. “Thanks, pudding! You’re looking very pretty today too. Is that Wonder Woman on your shirt? Nice choice, she’s my favorite too.”
“My mom picked it out for me,” Emily replied bluntly.
Lauren just gave his chest a playful tickle. “You mean your mommy, right?” She corrected him with a giggle. “That’s what you’re supposed to call her, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, Lauren!” Came Melissa’s voice from behind them, causing Emily to spin around suddenly. He was greeted by the sight of both his Mommy and Sherry, who walked beside her carrying Melissa’s pink bag. “And that’s why I’m not too worried about my little poppet tonight. She’s clearly in great hands.”
Melissa stepped forward and greeted Lauren with a hug. “Happy birthday, birthday girl! You’re looking absolutely stunning today in that dress!”
“Thanks, Ms. Harper!” Lauren responded graciously. “I’m just glad to finally hit that sweet sixteen! The party’s been a blast so far. Emily is going to have such a great time, thank you so much for bringing her!”
The three women stood there for quite some time talking to one another, which made Emily begin to feel a bit antsy. Just as he was about to walk off, however, his mother decided it was as good a time as any to finally say goodbye and head back home.
“Good luck with all that construction,” Sherry said to Melissa as she was getting ready to leave.
“Oh, thank you!” Melissa replied. “It’s a lot, but having my sweet girl out of the house today and tonight should give them all the time they need.”
Emily was immediately intrigued and confused. “Construction? What construction, Mommy?” he asked.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Melissa said in a cloying voice as she patted Emily on the head. “You just have a good time at the party, and you listen to Ms. Alford--and to Lauren--like you’d listen to me, okay? I’d better not hear any reports about bad behavior. Is that clear, Miss Priss?”
“Yes, Mommy,” Emily said glumly. Soon enough, he found himself standing there alone with Lauren and her mother.
“We should probably head back to the den now, before everyone begins to think I got lost on my way to grab punch,” Lauren said.
“Wait a sec!” Sherry interjected, reaching into the bag Melissa had given her and digging around until she found a plastic sippy cup. “As long as you’re getting punch, maybe you could be a polite house guest and grab some for Emily here?”
She then handed the sippy cup to Lauren, which made Emily even more tense than he already had been. Of course his mother had packed the sippy cup. Her complete and utter disregard for Emily’s dignity seemed to know no bounds. Emily shuddered as she thought of what other humiliating instruments she may have sent him there with.
“Good idea, Mom. Wouldn’t want our little girl to get thirsty!” Lauren responded. She took the top and unscrewed it, holding it out over the punch bowl and using the metallic ladle to fill the cup to the brim with sweet delicious punch. With all the sincerity of a babysitter preparing a drink for a toddler, she then tenderly handed the cup to Emily and patted him on the shoulder. “All better!,” she sang out in a singsong voice, before grabbing her arm and beginning to drag him in the direction of the den. “Now let’s go show my friends how adorable you are, pumpkin! Everyone’s been dying to see the real you!”
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Emily, once again having had no time to process what had just happened, found himself being led along like a lost puppy towards the back of the house. Lauren’s mother had assumed that he needed a sippy cup, and Lauren had not pushed back on the matter one bit. Somehow, in fact, neither had he! It gave Emily an ominous feeling about how the night was going to progress from this point forward. When they finally reached the back of the house, Emily was greeted by the sight of Lauren’s friends sprawled across the den casually talking and watching television. They were each dressed just as prettily as Lauren in colorful party dresses, which added yet another layer of embarrassment about the juvenile, girly outfit Emily’s mother had dressed him in. Not only was he dressed like a total sissy, but it was now apparent that he was severely underdressed compared to everyone else as well.
“OH MY GOD! LOOK GIRLS, THERE SHE IS!” Lauren’s friend Janisse shouted from her spot on the couch. They all turned in unison to face the entrance to the den before breaking out in spontaneous cheers and laughter at the sight of Lauren leading the petite boy closer towards them, sippy cup in hand.
“In the flesh!” Lauren chuckled, standing there with her arm around his shoulder as the group of young women continued to have a laugh at his expense. Emily could only stand there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to this onslaught of attention. Much to his horror, it all made him feel so nervous that he was helpless to stop a jet of pee from uncontrollably releasing into his pull-up. He gulped to himself, hoping to God that nobody else noticed as he felt the wet cloth cling to his bottom.
Amidst the laughter, Lauren’s friend Heather stepped out of her seat and approached the two of them with a wild grin on her face, grabbing Emily’s chin and pointing it upwards so that he was staring directly at her.
“Hey there, Emily,” she cooed, confirming Emily’s worst fears; Lauren’s friends knew everything about his therapy regime. As Heather continued, her voice dripped with layer after layer of facetiousness: “It’s so nice to finally meet the real you. Lauren showed me the pictures, but nothing compares to the real deal.” She looked him up and down with a predator-like focus, taking in the wonderful image of the scared little sissy in front of her. “God, you’re a fuc-king pansy. I’ll bet you feel so silly right now, don’t you squirt?”
“I . . . I . . . ” Emily struggled to respond. He turned around and instinctually looked to Lauren for protection.
In return, Lauren placed her hands on his shoulders protectively. “Well, Heather . . . I think she’s just the cutest little girl anyone could ask for!” Lauren beamed cheerfully.
Emily’s anxiety was soaring. “Lauren, what did you tell them?” His pleas caused them all to laugh even more, which made the answer obvious.
“Lauren told us everything, sweetie!” Janisse responded. “We know all about your breastfeeding and how it’s helped you realize that you’re really a girl.”
“Sorry sweetheart,” Lauren said sympathetically, “but they’re my best friends. How could I keep a secret from them?”
Tears of betrayal began to form in Emily’s eyes. How could she? Emily stupidly trusted that Lauren would keep his secret, and now he was finding out that she had told everyone about every inch of the humiliating transformations his Mommy had put into effect. Heather continued to laugh at Emily as he began to show signs of tears.
“Awww, don’t be sad, princess! We all think you’re adorable,” Janisse called out in an attempt to cheer him up. She got up off the couch to grab Emily and began pulling him back towards her. Emily was too dazed and defeated to resist. Instead, he simply let her man-handle him until he fell backwards onto the couch, directly into her clutches.
He felt small and childlike next to Janisse, who wasted no time pulling him up onto her lap and cradling him like a baby. She quickly began to fuss over him like some sort of human doll, which made Emily feel yet more powerless and helpless to do anything.
“Oh my god, Lauren was right! You really are so cute like this!” She beamed down at him excitedly, grasping him tightly in her arms as he squirmed uncomfortably on her lap. “This fits you so, so much better than your old look. I hope your mom never lets you go back to being a boy.”
“But I am a boy,” Emily mumbled in response, which just seemed to make all the girls laugh.
“Sure you are,” replied Heather sarcastically. “With a name like Emily, you must be a boy.”
Emily just couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his hands up and covered his bright red face in shame. It was a move that made him look so genuinely little-girl-like that it made everyone else in the room giggle.
“Aw look, she wants to play peek-a-boo!,” Janisse commented, which turned their giggles once again into rancorous laughter. She reached for his sippy cup, which had slipped down into the couch when Emily had inadvertently dropped it. Janisse moved Emily’s hands out of the way and forced the teat of the sippy cup into her mouth.
“Don’t feel bad, sissy! This should make you feel alllll better.” She cooed, holding the bottle in place until Emily was forced to begin suc-king down the contents. From Emily’s point of view, both Lauren and Heather, standing in front of him, seemed to tower over him so greatly that Emily was starting to feel just as small as these women were treating him. Their beautiful, made-up faces stared at him like he was some sort of zoo animal, and Emily was hyper-aware at every second that they were all paying close attention to his every move.
Emily truly did look cute in Janisse’s arms, and Emily’s childlike demeanor made it hard to dispel growing feelings of maternal affection some of them had for the somewhat feminized pansy. Lauren, meanwhile, took her place on the couch next to them and lovingly placed her hand on Emily’s smooth upper thigh. Even as mad as he was at Lauren, Emily could not help but to thrill at her touch. She’d never been so intimate with him before.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you about all this in advance, Emmy.” She began to speak softly, her new pet name for Emily already coming to her naturally. “Your Mommy correctly predicted that you’d throw a fit if you knew that we were all waiting for Little Miss Emily to make her debut at my party. That’s why we didn’t tell you! I just couldn’t do anything that would have kept you from coming over. I wanted Janisse and Heather to meet the real you, sweet girl. It felt selfish of me to keep you all to myself.”
“You should have felt selfish, Lauren.” Janisse chuckled. “I mean, my god, it’s like she’s your own personal baby doll!”
“You don’t know the half of it. You should see the pictures her mommy sent me when they were playing dress-up the other day. Calling her a baby-doll is probably more accurate than you might think.”
Emily nearly choked on the punch from her sippy cup. She knew without explanation what pictures Lauren was talking about, and if her assumptions were correct, it would mean her mother and Lauren were a lot closer than she had realized. How much else had Melissa shared with her?
Heather was still standing in front of the couch with a smug grin on her face and her hands confidently on her hips. “Speaking of baby dolls,” she said with a sadistic grin, “Let’s see em’ twerp!” With that, she reached down and yanked on Emily’s shorts. Emily moved to resist, but Janisse held his upper body tightly, and the squirming and weak kicking of his legs only delayed the inevitable. Emily let out a muffled cry as Heather pulled her shorts down and her princess pull-ups came into the view of everyone in the room. The laughter in the room was near-instantaneous. The bright, colorful vestige of a smiling Cinderella was now on full display, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Cinderella was kind of damp.
“Oh my god, she fuc-king pissed herself!” Heather screamed. This sudden revelation caused Janisse to instinctually push Emily off of her onto the floor in disgust.
“I . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to go . . . I . . . ” Emily began to stammer.
Lauren got up with a giggle and patted him on the head. “Awww, it’s alright sweetheart!” She said in a cheerful, condescending voice. “I know you couldn’t help it. That’s why you have Cinderella there, to keep you all safe and dry!”
“I don’t know about dry, Lauren,” Heather added. “Those are some saggy-ass Pampers right there.”
For whatever reason, this comment in particular as well as the accompanying tittering made Emily very upset. “They’re not Pampers, Heather!,” he whined in a truly pathetic voice, “They’re pull-ups! They aren’t stupid baby diapers, okay?”
Seeing how pitiful Emily looked on the floor just made Heather even more amused. “Oh? Is that right babyface?,” she teased sarcastically. “My mistake then. I guess it’s a bit demeaning to imply that you haven’t begun your potty training yet. Don’t worry, you’ll figure out how to get to the toilet someday.”
Even though she was having fun, a part of Lauren did feel as though they were pushing things too far. She looked down at Emily’s sulking, defeated, tear-stained face and gave her a look of pity. “Alright Heather, that’s enough teasing. Emily can’t help it if she wets herself sometimes. That’s why her mommy put me in charge. We shouldn’t make fun of her for something she’s obviously having difficulty with.” Lauren smiled and silently offered Emily her hand, pulling her up off the floor and wrapping Emily into her arms in an attempt to console the upset sissy. She gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.
“Th -- thank you,” Emily said, trembling in Lauren’s arms.
“Of course,” Lauren said. “After that day you told me all the stuff your mommy makes you do, I called her and we had a long talk, just to try and understand the whole situation better. The more we talked about you, the more everything you told me began to make sense, and to be honest . . . I even began to agree with a lot of her methods. It seemed like she needed a bit of help with making sure you were well taken care of at school, so she asked me if I’d like to become your special helper. She even offered to pay me for it. I figured you were so adorable like this anyway that I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity.”
“So you weren’t just doing it to be nice?” Emily said, trying to pull away from Lauren. “I thought you just wanted to help me because we’re friends.”
“We are friends, silly!” Lauren said, easily pulling Emily back into her grasp and tickling him. “I’m just also kind of, like, your babysitter too.”
The tickling managed to get Emily to produce a small giggle, but it was short-lived. Only moments later, he crossed his arms and resumed sulking. “I don’t need a babysitter, Lauren. We’re pretty much the same age. I can’t believe you were working against me behind my back the entire time!”
Lauren kept one arm around Emily’s shoulder and lowered the other around his legs in order to pick him up and cradle him like a large infant, which came as quite a shock to Emily. It took some effort, but Lauren managed to carry him a few steps back over to the couch, where she lowered the two of them back onto the seat so that Emily was now laid across her legs and looking right up at her face.
“Oh baby . . . ,” Lauren started to coo affectionately, “I’m not working against you. Me and your mommy are just trying to give you what you need. We both love you so much. You realize it’s better this way, right? With you as our little girl?”
“But I’m not a little girl,” Emily mumbled, “I don’t know why everyone keeps trying to tell me that I am.”
Janisse scooted closer to the two of them on the couch. “Honey, I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself in the mirror yet today,” she said with a chuckle, “but you look way too cute to possibly be a boy. Seriously though, the little girl look fits you wonderfully. And I’m not even saying that to tease you. Everyone here thinks you’re freakin’ adorable. Even Heather.”
Emily turned her head to face Heather, who gave her a little shrug. “At least it gives people an honest sense of what you are.”
Still cradled in Lauren’s arms, Emily looked around the room at each one of them, noticing that their mild, gleeful sadism had by now turned into a sort of genuine compassion for him. Despite everything that had happened so far, these were his best friends, and even if he resented them all in this moment, he understood that deep down they all truly did care about him. Otherwise, why would they have stuck by him all these years? Emily’s tears began to dry up as he took in his friends’ warm gazes.
“Y. . . You really think I’m cute like this? You don’t think it’s weird?”
“I mean, sure it’s weird,” said Lauren, “But honestly, who cares? People come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. The important thing is that you learn how to be yourself. This look just feels so much more . . . you, you know?”
“And to answer your question”, Janisse added, “Duh! Of course we think you’re cute. Why do you think Lauren felt the need to tell everyone about this in the first place? Baby, she couldn’t stop gushing about you if she tried! I don’t really blame her now that I’ve seen the real thing.”
Emily blushed. As embarrassed as he was, it wasn’t very often that girls called him cute. Especially girls he had crushes on.
“If you think I’m cute, then why were you making fun of me?” Emily asked.
“Making fun of you?!?,” spat Lauren, as if it were the most preposterous thing in the world. “Baby, we were teasing, that’s just what friends do! If we went a little overboard, then you’ll have to forgive us. Nobody here means to hurt you. If anything, we’re all here to protect you. You’re like, the little sister of the group!”
This response made Emily cringe, but he could detect enough sincerity in what Lauren was saying that part of it did make him feel a bit better. If nothing else, these girls truly had been by his side all these years, and the way that Lauren said the words “little sister” somehow felt more like a term of endearment than an attempt to be demeaning. As Lauren began to feel Emily perk up ever so slightly, she was glad her words of encouragement were reaching her.
“Now can you do me a favor, lovely?” Lauren asked, giving Emily a bright smile to let her know that everything was going to be okay. “Can you please just cheer up for me and let us pamper you a bit? It’s my birthday today, and I want it to be a fun time without any more problems. Everyone here loves the new you so much, and it’d really make my day if you just went with it and let us have some fun. I promise that we won’t tease you too much, and if you keep an open mind, I know you’ll have a blast too! So can you just keep being the adorable, coy little sweet leaf that you are and do what comes naturally, please? Even if it’s just for today?”
-
Emily looked up at her with a curious, but trusting gaze. He really did not want to go through with it, but Lauren’s sweet, loving puppy dog eyes cut through him like a knife to butter. It was Lauren’s birthday after all, and the last thing Emily wanted to do was ruin her one special day a year.
With a bit of apprehension, Emily finally relented. “Alright Lauren, I guess I can do that. Sorry for upsetting you on your birthday.”
Cheers were had all around by Lauren’s friends. It had always been so easy to manipulate the poor kid into doing whatever they wanted, but they’d never imagined pushing things this far. Lauren sat Emily upright and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, which made Emily’s tiny pen-is strain heavily against its cage.
“Thank you so much, Emmy!,” she said graciously. “You’re the best little princess a birthday girl could ask for! It’s going to be a birthday to remember for sure!”
The phrase “little princess” once again deflated Emily’s ego, but she had pretty much just sealed her fate. Now that she knew her Mommy and Lauren were working together so closely, any attempt to go back on her word could mean dire consequences back home. Instead of pouting, she feigned a smile and returned Lauren’s loving gesture with a hug.
“Aww, see? That’s the spirit!” Janisse encouraged. “I knew you could be a good girl if you tried.”
“That’s my baby girl! Sweeter than cotton candy!” Lauren said, smiling at Janisse with pride.
Once Emily finally let go, Lauren nudged him to his feet and then stood up herself. She ruffled Emily’s hair a little and looked down at his soggy pull-up, giggling to herself at just how babyish the 15 year-old truly looked.
“Alright then, Emmy. Now that we’ve cleared the air, how about we get you into a fresh new pull-up, huh? I wouldn’t be a very good babysitter if I let you sit around in that soggy thing all day!”
Heather put her hand over her mouth to conceal her laughter as Emily’s face turned bright red. God, what had he gotten himself into? With a playful pat on Emily’s soggy bottom, Lauren began to usher him out of the den. Janisse and Heather followed closely behind.
“Wait!” Emily interjected with a nervous glance up at Lauren. “What about my pants?”
Lauren looked over at Emily’s pink shorts laying on the floor and giggled.
“Oh, you won’t be needing those for what we have planned” she responded dismissively, before once again urging her forward. For Emily, this was beginning to feel like it would be a very long night.
-
Wonderful development. Looking forward so much to what happens next!
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CuddleBunns and PervScenes11,
I'm now caught up on my reading of your wonderful story and waited until now to comment.
Every time that I read about Michael/Emily wetting, I was glad I was wearing a high capacity diaper because I was imagining myself in his/her place in your story and real time wetting my pink diaper right along with Michael/Emily.
I'm eager to read your next chapters and I'll be sure I'm in a fresh diaper when I do!
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This story is marvelous. On, lucky Emily, “caught” in this overwhelming web of feminizing affection. My earlier appreciative comments still stand. Very good writing on a theme that explores what, I believe, is a not unusual sweet yearning.
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Thank you lovellace, dolly bo peep, and sweet baby katie. Your kind words are much appreciated.
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Thank you so much to all who have posted. Your kind comments really mean the world. I've spent a long time feeling shame for being into regression/feminization, and knowing that this story is speaking to others and that y'all are enjoying it, that means a lot. Thank you.
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN- DRESS UP TIME FOR EMILY
Lauren’s mother Sherry was busying herself in the kitchen when she heard approaching chatter. She looked up to notice Lauren dragging an embarrassed Emily in by the arm, followed by Lauren’s other party guests. It didn’t take her any time at all to notice that Emily’s pants had vanished, and moreover, her pink Cinderella pull-up was completely soaked as well. A look of disdain soon spread across her face.
“Don’t tell me we had an accident already!”
Lauren nodded. “Unfortunately, we did, Mom. It’s a big day for Little Miss Priss here, being seen as her true self for the first time and all. I guess it all got to be too much for her, and our little girl had a bit of trouble holding it all in. Would you mind grabbing me a new pair of training pants from her bag?”
“Take the whole thing!” Sherry said, handing the pink bag that Melissa had prepared over to Lauren. “You’re the one who agreed you wanted to take care of the little weirdo.”
“Awwww, Ms. Alford,” Janisse laughed. “Emily here isn’t weird. She’s just the cutest little girl ever!”
“She looks like the wettest little girl to me,” Sherry scoffed. “I guess those pull-ups aren’t just for show, are they?”
“Oh, definitely not, Mom,” replied Lauren. “At this point, I think she actually needs them. At least based on everything I’ve seen.”
Emily stared at the floor as they all laughed, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He expected to get some privacy when he was changed, but was surprised when Lauren instead knelt down next to him, right where they stood in the kitchen, and began to grab the waistband of his wet pull-up. Emily quickly put his hands up to stop her.
“Wait Lauren, don’t! Everyone can see!” Emily begged.
“So?” Lauren responded dismissively, before forcefully swatting Emily’s hands away and sliding her soggy pull-up down her waist. Emily felt a new level of terror wash over him as his lavender coc-k cage and tiny, hairless balls suddenly came into everyone’s view. He wanted to die of shame at the symphony of laughter that was now erupting from the group of women surrounding him.
“Holy shit!” Heather spat out in shock. “I mean...the little girl treatment is one thing, but this? This just about takes the cake. What a sissy.”
Seeing the stricken look on Emily’s face as he stood there, fully exposed, Lauren cupped his face in her soft hands and--in a gentle, patient tone--said, “Emily? Sweetie? I know this is hard for you, but it’s just like your Mommy says: you’re a little girl now. Heck, you’ve always been a little girl. The sooner you accept that about yourself, the easier it’ll be, and we’re all here to help you, every step of the way. Little girls don’t care about privacy when they get changed, and you shouldn’t either.”
To Emily’s horror, Lauren left him totally exposed right there in the kitchen as she unzipped the pink bag his Mommy had packed and began rooting around in it. When he tried to use his hands to cover his crotch, Janisse, standing behind him, simply grabbed his hands and held them above his head. For Emily, the room was getting blurry as her eyes filled with tears.
“Pathetic,” Sherry said to Heather, who nodded in agreement.
“Here we go!” Lauren said, producing a new pair of pull-ups and holding them in front of her. “Here’s princess Aurora, sweetie, all ready to keep you dry!”
“A Sleeping Beauty for our little cutie!” Janisse said, cracking up at her own joke.
Before putting the new pull-up on, Lauren took a baby wipe from the pink bag and quickly wiped down Emily’s damp crotch. As Lauren ran the wipe over his most sensitive areas, Emily throbbed in his cage and remembered all the times he’d masturbated to the fantasy of Lauren touching his coc-k and balls. Here he was, getting what he’d always wanted . . . though not in the way he’d wanted it!
“Lauren?” Emily whined, his hands still held above his head by Janisse. “Can you hurry up? This is really . . . ”
“No more fussing,” Lauren said, popping a pink pacifier into Emily’s mouth.
“Yeah, baby,” Janisse said, “you promised you’d be good for Lauren on her birthday.”
All Emily could do was shut his eyes in shame as tears spilled down his face and on to the ring of the pacifier, which he’d begun nursing instinctually. He couldn’t understand why this kept happening: it seemed that everywhere he went now, he ended up totally overwhelmed and exposed, his actions and even his identity dictated to him by a group of powerful women he had no hope of challenging. Were they right?, he wondered. Would it be easier if he started to think of himself as a young girl? He didn’t know. He just knew he was tired of feeling this way.
“Upsie-Daisy,” Lauren cooed, holding the fresh pull-up out in front of Emily. “Let’s get little miss left foot in first, there you go! That’s our girl! What a good little girl you are, Emily! And yep, there’s little miss right foot, and here we goooooooo, all the way up! Good job! What a good girl!”
For Emily, the worst part of it all, somehow, was how warm and clean and fresh the new pull-up felt, how relieved he was to have it covering him and keeping him safe and dry. He knew he was 15 years old and that he shouldn’t love the feeling of a new pull-up, but he did. All he could do was sob.
“Oh my God,” Sherry said in disgust. “Lauren, it’s your special day, and I told you you could do what you wanted. But take this pansy upstairs. I can’t look at her anymore.”
“Right?” Heather chuckled, “can you even believe a guy would let himself be treated this way?”
“Well, Emily isn’t a guy,” Janisse said. “That’s kind of the whole point.”
Her tone confused Emily. What she was saying seemed mean, but she said it in a way that was gentle and loving. “Now, come on, baby, let’s get you upstairs and pamper you a little bit.”
Emily, still holding Janisse’s hand, was led upstairs to Emily’s bedroom as Lauren and Heather followed.
“I’m on cuddle duty!” Janisse shouted, pulling Emily over to the bed. Janisse sat down and then pulled Emily onto her lap, once again wrapping her arms tight around Emily and holding her close. Lauren was, of course, Emily’s one true love, but Janisse was beautiful too, and she’d always been very kind to him. Although Lauren dominated his fantasies, Janisse sometimes played a role in them as well, even though she’d only ever treated him as a friend in real life. But now that Janisse seemed to have embraced him as Emily, her attitude towards him seemed to have changed. As he sat on her lap, she seemed barely able to keep her hands off of his smooth thighs, and as she held him tightly, she sometimes kissed his neck. The closeness made Emily throb in her cage, even if the circ-umstances that brought on the closeness humiliated him.
“Heather?” Lauren asked, “can you start on Emily’s make-up while I get her outfit together?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “You two are so weird. I can’t believe you’re into this.”
“Heather!” Lauren said, “it’s my special day, and if I want to spend part of it helping our friend Emily accept herself, then that’s my call. And you’re the best makeup artist we have!”
“Sure, sure,” Heather groaned. “I guess we have to kill time until the guys get here anyways.”
“Guys?!?” Emily said, dropping her pacifier out of her mouth and squirming in panic on Janisse’s lap. “Guys are coming here?”
“Sssssssssssh,” Janisse whispered, holding Emily more tightly and bouncing her knees slightly. “Don’t you worry about that, sugarbear. What happens up here is just for us girls.”
“I mean, maybe it is,” Heather laughed as she pulled a chair over and sat down in front of Emily and Janisse. “If you’re good.”
“Being good’s not a problem for my sweet Emily girl, is it?” Janisse cooed.
Emily shook her head no, terrified at the thought of being exposed to boys while dressed like this. As Lauren stepped into her large walk-in closet and began rummaging around, the room fell into silence. Heather began working on Emily’s makeup, applying a range of creams and powders that Emily didn’t know the name, much less the function, of. Emily found it uncomfortable to be face-to-face with Heather, who had never liked him in the first place and clearly saw him as beyond ridiculous and pathetic now. For years, Emily had picked up on Heather’s low opinion of him, but he’d held out hope that one day he’d grow taller, gain maturity, and be able to convince Heather that she’d been wrong about him. As Janisse cuddled him on her lap, Emily felt a door closing in her mind. He was wearing a pull-up. They were calling him Emily. He’d wet himself and been changed and they’d seen his chastity. They were using female pronouns. It dawned on him that there was now no going back, no way he’d live this down or explain it away. All he’d wanted to do was impress these girls and prove to them that he was a real man, worthy of dating Lauren. Now that would never happen. He felt that deep, deep in his bones, and as he did, he started sobbing.
“There, there,” Janisse whispered in his ear, giving him an extra squeeze. “Ssssshhhh, sssssshhhhh, we know. We know it’s hard. It’s not easy when you thought you were a big boy and find out you’re not. But you’re not a big boy, are you? Not my Emily. Not my special girl!”
“Lauren!” Heather called out. “This dweeb is crying again. So I think eyeshadow and lashes are off the menu.”
“That’s okay,” Lauren yelled from inside her closet, “she’s already played super serious dress up with her Mommy before, so for today, just some foundation, blush, and lipstick are fine.”
Heather got back to work, finishing Emily’s face and cheeks before taking her pacifier out and applying some bubblegum pink lipstick.
“Perfect,” Lauren said, coming back into the room as Heather was finishing up. The outfit she carried in her arms made Emily cringe. It was a juvenile crop-top with puffy princess sleeves; white in color, it said “Princess!” across the front in heavy pink sequins and its raised waistline ended in a frilly ruffle. Lauren had paired this with a tiny, pale pink skirt with a cartoon giraffe decal near its hem. Lacy ankle socks and pink Keds sneakers completed the look, and with both Lauren and Janisse working on him, he was dressed in it within minutes. Heather could barely contain her laughter at the ensemble, but Lauren and Janisse could not stop gushing about it. Emily, for his part, felt beyond absurd. Although one of his dress up looks at A Caring Place had had a skirt, he still found it disorienting to look down his body and see such a feminine garment. And it was so short, barely covering the bottom of his pull-up! The crop top was short too, exposing most of his smooth, perfectly hairless stomach. As Lauren, Janisse, and Heather made him pose and spin while they took pictures and shot video on their cell phones, Emily knew he should probably have resisted. But he just kept coming back to I’ll never recover from this. They’ll never un-see me as a girl. Those realizations felt so permanent and so powerful that it just seemed easier to go along with their view of him. At least, here and there, some of the newfound physical intimacy he got with the girls was nice if he could block out all the humiliation.
-
“This outfit is incredible!” Janisse gushed as she poked and prodded at Emily’s outfit, lifting the bottom of his skirt to get a better look at his matching pull-ups. “Where did you even get something like this, Lauren?”
“Oh, I just had it lying around.” Lauren responded casually. “My mom used to sign us up for a bunch of mother-daughter beauty pageants together. I always kind of hated it, but she seemed to get a kick out of getting me all dolled-up and parading me around on stage with her. After I got old enough to tell her that I didn’t want to do it anymore, she stopped making me go, but for some reason she kept all of the outfits. Must be a nostalgia thing, I guess. None of the outfits fit me anymore, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I gave them a new home with our little princess here.”
Emily began to sweat a little when he heard this. It was humiliating enough to be dressed like this at Lauren’s house, but he knew for sure that if Melissa saw him come home with a box full of girl's clothes in his hand, it would only accelerate the path of feminization he was on. His mommy would no doubt want to make sure he got the most out of these new additions to his wardrobe, and he worried that he may never see boys' clothes again. Before he could respond however, the girls had already moved on to fishing more obnoxiously frilly and feminine garments out of Lauren’s closet, eager to find other ways to make their little doll as cute as humanly possible.
“Oooh, what about this one?” Janisse asked as she held up a yellow spandex leotard and an accompanying large, rainbow-colored tutu.
“Oh my God, yes!” Lauren squealed. “I know just the things to go with that, too!”
Lauren took a moment to dig around some more before pulling out a brand new pair of white dress shoes, yellow ribbons for Emily’s hair, and a pair of white tights to go over Emily’s legs. Soon Emily found himself going through the whole process of getting dressed and undressed all over again. They didn’t bother changing his makeup, but it truly was like Emily was their plaything. Kept mute by his pacifier as the girls towered over him, moving his arms and legs this way and that as they shaped the look they desired, he felt like he was becoming little more than their own human doll. The group could not get enough of Emily in her white tights, yellow leotard, rainbow tutu, white Mary Janes, and matching hairbows. They lost track of time as they giggled and took pictures and videos from every conceivable angle.
“That’s it,” Janisse said. “That’s got to be the look! If she gets any cuter than that, I might die.”
“Besides,” Heather said, “isn’t Emily’s playmate probably beyond ready to meet her?”
Lauren laughed and nodded in agreement as Emily’s blood ran cold. Playmate? What were they talking about? He did not want to be seen by anyone while he was dressed like this! He almost said something, but he knew that if he did, Janisse--who was hovering near him and adjusting the skirt of his tutu--would simply scold him right back into silence. So he remained silent as the girls led him out of Lauren’s bedroom and down the upstairs hallway to a door marked “Cara’s Room” in pink cursive letters.
Cara, Emily knew, was Lauren’s little sister. She was six.
“Lauren!” Emily blurted out as they paused in front of Cara’s door. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not going to make me play with Cara, are you?”
“Hey!” Lauren said, kneeling and grabbing Emily’s pacifier off of the carpet where she’d dropped it. “First off, no talking. Second, of course you’re going to play with Cara this afternoon. I was so excited that you were coming to my special party today, but given how much older me and all the other girls here are compared to you, your Mommy and I decided that it’d be a good thing for you to spend the afternoon playing with someone closer to your own age!”
“Cara is not my age!” Emily protested.
“Okay, true,” Lauren said, sliding Emily’s pacifier back in her mouth. “Cara’s definitely older than you, but you don’t need to be scared about hanging out with an older, more mature kid. She’s really nice, and really excited to play with you!”
Without further ado, Heather opened the door in front of them and Janisse and Lauren herded Emily inside Cara’s room. It was pure little girl princess: white carpet, soft pink walls, a huge canopy bed with bows and ruffles and lace everywhere. Cara--blond like her older sister and wearing a pink pair of overalls and a white shirt--got up from the floor, where she’d been coloring, and made a bee line for Emily.
“Hi!” she said. “You’re Michael from across the street but Lauren says you’re Emily now and that you’re a girl now and that I’m older and you have to do what I say. Your tutu is really cute. Let’s color!” With that, Cara grabbed Emily’s hand and drug her deeper into the room. Emily, numb with shock, complied.
Turning to Heather and Janisse, Lauren said, “I think Cara has been a little jealous this week with all the attention I’ve been getting for my birthday. But she perked right up when I told her she’d get a special new playmate.”
“I cannot believe Mich -- Emily -- is really going to color with your little sister,” Heather snarked.
“Well, believe it,” Lauren said. “This is who Emily is now.”
Janisse chimed in next: “This time is probably really helpful to her. It’s a space where there’s no more pretending that she’s something she’s not. Let’s sit down and watch her adjust.”
Emily could not believe his friends were treating him like this, but his attention was soon overtaken by Cara, who was both very excited and very bossy. As Emily knelt on the floor near her pile of coloring books and crayons, Cara quickly took charge, telling him which coloring book to select, which page in that book to work on, and which colors he should use. If he even came close to coloring outside the lines, Cara scolded him. Although he tried to keep his attention fixed on what Lauren, Heather, and Janisse were talking about, he soon found that Cara’s instructions took all of his attention. Plus, if he focused intently on coloring and meeting Cara’s demands, Emily found that he could sort of forget about the weirdness of the situation and his own humiliation within it.
And so despite the inherent strangeness of the situation--three high school girls watching a girl who had once been a boy and their peer have playtime with a six year old--the room quickly settled into a new normal. Heather, Janisse, and Lauren, sat on and around Cara’s canopy bed. They watched as Cara led Emily in a coloring activity, but as time passed, they began to talk amongst themselves and look at their phones. Absorbed in meeting Cara’s demands, Emily quickly lost track of time. Sometime after finishing up a picture of The Beauty and The Beast’s Belle colored to Cara’s demanding standards, Emily found himself holding Cara’s hand as she demanded that they skip around the room together. Their romp was interrupted by the sound of an incoming text message on Heather’s phone.
“That was Travis,” Heather said, grinning at Lauren. “The boys should be here in about thirty minutes!”
“Travis Richardson?” Emily asked, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth. “Travis Richardson is coming here?”
Heather laughed cruelly and nodded her head towards Lauren. “What kind of a boyfriend would Travis be if he didn’t come to his girlfriend’s sweet sixteen party?”
“Girlfriend!” Emily shrieked. “Lauren, is that -- ? Are you -- ? Are you and Travis -- ? How -- how could you?”
“Awwwww, don’t fret, baby girl,” Lauren said, coming over and kissing Emily on the cheek. “You know I’ll always love you, right? After all, you’re my second little sister now!”
“Yeah,” Heather said, “she’ll just love Travis in a very different way!”
“Heather, you are the worst,” Janisse said.
Emily was panicking now. “I -- I have to change. If Travis and his friends are coming over, you have to let me dress in normal clothes, I have to --”
“What you have to do,” Lauren said, sliding Emily’s pacifier back into his mouth, “is relax.”
“And you ARE in normal clothes, honey,” Janisse said with a giggle, kneeling next to Emily and feeling up his smooth thighs. “Well, normal clothes for the cutest baby girl in the whole neighborhood, which is exactly what you are. You know we’re proud of you, right?”
Emily just looked confused, his eyes wide with the shock of the news that Lauren and Travis were dating, which felt like a huge betrayal. Standing there in a leotard and a tutu, he felt two inches tall. How could anyone be proud of him?
“It’s not her fault, but your Mommy raised you wrong, sweetie,” Janisse said. “She didn’t know any better, but she looked at your anatomy and assumed you were a boy. Which obviously isn’t true. We know it’s a big transition you’re making, and we’re so proud of how well you’re doing. You look so pretty in your big girl tutu, skipping around with Cara. We’re all really happy for you and proud of you, even Heather.”
Heather just rolled her eyes at that.
“Now,” Lauren said, “we need to go freshen up before the boys get here. But don’t you worry, Travis and his friends aren’t interested in little girl stuff, so they won’t even come up here, I promise. You and Cara will have a ton of fun together while we’re gone, and then my Mom will feed you dinner and put you all to bed when it gets to be bedtime.”
“Gone?” Emily squealed behind his pacifier. What was Lauren saying? Where was she going? This party was a spend the night!
“We’re seeing a movie, sweetheart,” Janisse explained patiently. “But it’s a scary horror movie and it’s rated R, so it’s way too mature for you.”
“But thank you for coming over and spending some of my special day with me, Emily,” Lauren said. “It was so much fun.”
Seeing the hurt look on Emily’s face, Heather just stared down at him and laughed. “Oh my God, did this little twerp really think we were going to spend the whole day playing baby games with her? Jeeeeeez. We’re sixteen, not six.”
“Well,” Janisse laughed, “some of us are anyways. Bye, sugarbear!”
“See you in the morning, baby girl!” Lauren said, kissing Emily’s cheek once more. “Bye!”
And with that, Heather, Emily, and Janisse were gone, leaving Emily alone with Cara.
“Tea party!” the little girl blurted out. “Let’s have a tea party! I love having tea parties with Lauren but she’s old and boring and never has time but now I have the bestest playmate in the whole world!”
Plopping down on his leotard-and-pull-up-covered butt, Emily sat, passive and despondent, as Cara dictated the terms of their play, getting various dolls and stuffed animals out of a toy chest and explaining their names and personalities to Emily while Emily stared out the big picture window in Cara’s room, the one that looked out over The Alford’s front lawn. That meant, of course, that Emily could see across the street as well, to his own house, where several large trucks and a van with the logo of a construction company were parked. What was his mother doing now? It was all too much to contemplate.
“Hey!” Cara said, weakly slapping at Emily’s arm. “Pay attention! What kind of voice does Mr. Panda have?”
Emily shook his head to indicate that he didn’t know.
“Mr. Panda is the MOST polite tea party guest,” Cara explained again. “He’s friends with Prom Night Barbie, but he really wants to be boyfriend/girlfriend with Gigi the Giraffe. So we’re to sit Mr. Panda HERE, on my right side, while . . . ” And so it went, on and on. Emily was amazed at how much pretend planning went into staging a tea party and while it wasn’t true that he enjoyed any of it, it was easier to focus on Cara and her childish demands than to think--really think--about how far his status had fallen over the short course of Lauren’s birthday party.
Sometime later, when Emily heard a big, expensive-looking SUV pull into Lauren’s driveway, he couldn’t help but look out the window to see Heather, Janisse, and Lauren rushing out of the house and into the SUV. Giddy with laughter and looking like a million dollars, Lauren ran to the driver’s side window and gave Travis Richardson a huge kiss, with tongue, before getting into the vehicle. Seeing that kiss hurt Emily deeply. He literally couldn’t bear to look at it, and so he turned away, got on all fours, felt a hot jet of pee soak his pull-up, and asked Cara what kind of cake Lottie the Lizard wanted to have with her tea.
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Time for a change… Which means, of course, time for a diaper and pretty plastic panties.
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Cuddlebuns is such a gifted writer. What a truly astounding imagination she has. I like to write augmentations or variations of certains stories on this site that I find especially stimulating, including this one, for my own personal enjoyment. I would never have thought of Emily ending up at Lauren's 16th Birthday Party participating in an imaginary tea party with her younger sister, Cara, in her bedroom. And Cara's control over Emily, who is nearly twice her age, along with her precocious speech is quite entertaining. I can visualize the whole thing. All credit on this goes to the writer. I can't wait to see what happens when Emily goes home and sees what Melissa has done in her absence.
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This story touches me in places very few other stories reach. The dread, claustrophobic sense of entrapment having dropped down the rabbit hole; the boy's feeling of diminishment, psychic castration and being broken, with no rescue in sight; the cloying cuddles and mixed messages Laura gives---you guys are doing a masterful job. It's as if our sissy whines that the girls despise him and Heather---my favorite character because she's so forthright and direct, no bullshit---cruelly but accurately responds, "No we don't... You're not worth the passion it takes to work up such a strong emotion..." That's the subliminal message he gets looking out the window seeing Laura run to the car and tongue Travis before they all take off to the movies. I look for the next installment every day.
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Thank you so much for all the praise, patticakes. I'm glad you have been enjoying my stories so far. I would be remiss if I did not mention that PervScenes11 has been doing an equal, if not greater job contributing to the story of Michael's regression/transformation into Emily, however, so I can't take all the credit. The girls forcing Emily to stay back and play with Cara says a lot about how they feel about him at this point, and unfortunatley for Emily, their estimation of him is only going to sink lower and lower as time goes on.
And sissiboi, I'm glad the story is resonating with you so much. You really hit the nail on the head as to what we've been going for with the gradual, systematic erosion of male normalcy within Emily's life. I'm also a big fan of Heather as a character, by the way. Something about how blunt she is, with such little regard for Emily's feelings, makes her so much fun to write for! Like Lauren, I think on some level she gets off on the power she possesses over Emily, but unlike her friend, she couldn't really care less whether Emily is around or not. I think she's also the most self-aware about how strange it all is, and pyschologically distances herself a bit more than her other friends. By contrast, I think Lauren is starting to become addicted to treating Emily like her own personal baby doll or pet. That's all I'll say for now, because we definitley have some big plans for Lauren much further down the road. For now I'm glad you're enjoying our story, and I hope you'll stick around for when things REALLY start to go down a couple of chapters from now.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN -- EMILY’S BIG DAY: WAKE-UP
It was extremely early the next morning--almost still dark outside--when Lauren and Janisse cracked open the door to Cara’s room. Heather had, of course, chosen to sleep in. All three girls had been out late, pushing the limits of their 11:30 PM curfew, flirting and riding around town with Travis and his friends after their movie finished. They’d had a great time, and both were bleary with lack of sleep, but neither would have missed this for the world. Although Emily’s status--and gender--had changed greatly in their eyes, they really did care for her, in their way, and neither of them wanted to miss the chance to be involved in what was sure to be one of the most important days of Emily’s life.
Emily was oblivious to all this. After he’d wet his pull-up while playing tea party, Cara had ran downstairs to “tattle” on him to her mother. Exasperated by Emily’s helplessness, Sherry had changed him into a new pullup, fed both “little girls” a childish dinner of cut-up hot dog pieces and mac n’ cheese, and promptly put Emily to bed at her “bedtime” of 7:30. Cara, because she was older and more mature than Emily, got to stay up an extra hour, and so Emily had lain on the floor in Cara’s room, swaddled in Cara’s Rainbow Brite sleeping bag for an hour by himself, with little else to do except to reflect on the precipitous fall his social status had taken in the last 24 hours. Despite it still being light outside, and in spite of the offense Emily took at being put to bed before an actual six year old, he’d cried himself to sleep well before Sherry carried Cara in and put her down for the night.
He was still sleeping, snug as a bug in a rug, when Janisse and Lauren crept into the room. Not wanting to wake either Emily or Cara, the older girls were careful and quiet as they made their way to Emily, kneeling on the carpet beside her sleeping bag.
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” Janisse whispered, pointing to a spot midway down Emily’s sleeping bag. A wet spot.
Lauren’s hand covered her mouth as she smiled with glee. “Mrs. Harper is going to be SO happy,” Lauren whispered.
“Is she really going to do all the stuff you told me about?” Janisse asked.
Lauren nodded.
“That is . . . wild,” Janisse whispered.
“I know, but it’s also beautiful,” Lauren said.
Janisse nodded in agreement, reaching down and gently stroking Emily’s hair while he slept.
“It’s . . .” Janisse started. “It’s just so . . . like, when you first told me what Mrs. Harper was planning it almost seemed . . . cruel. But then it’s like, when you really think about Emily is, how much we all always worried about her, it . . . I mean, what was ‘Michael’ going to do? Who was he going to date? What job was he going to get? I mean, he probably wasn’t even going to pass high school.”
Lauren nodded in agreement. “That’s what’s so beautiful about it, to me. That Mrs. Harper loves her daughter enough to care for her like she needs to be cared for.”
Janisse nodded and the two girls sat in a kind of hushed silence for a few minutes, staring down at Emily. “I know she won’t recognize this at first,” Janisse said, wiping a tear away from one eye, “but she’s so lucky. To be loved like that.”
Lauren was about to whisper her agreement when Emily began to stir in her sleeping bag. “Mmm . . . L-Lauren?” Emily moaned in confusion, slowly getting up and rubbing his tired eyes. As he did so, the childish room around him materialized and he was reminded of everything that had transpired the night before.
“Hey! Don’t forget about me silly!” Janisse teased him with a giggle. The two girls were watching Emily intently as the reality of where he was dawned on him. They both thought it was simply adorable when his face turned red and he shyly pulled the edge of the sleeping bag up closer to his face. It was as if he was still somehow embarrassed to be seen in such a childish state after all this time.
“Good morning, cutie,” Lauren said, offering Emily her hand. “Did somebody have a fun playdate last night?” After a moment's hesitation, Emilly grabbed hold of her hand and let her pull him up to his feet. Once he was standing, Lauren pulled him in for a big hug. “Aww, there’s my little angel,” she cooed, rocking Emily’s body back and forth.
All of this physical affection from his biggest crush, combined with the fact that he had just woken up, caused Emily’s morning wood to begin straining painfully against his chastity cage. Horrified to think that Lauren and Janisse might see his tiny boner throbbing in its cage, Emily was briefly thankful to still be wearing the leotard and pull-up. But thinking about his pull-up made Emily, still groggy from sleep, realize that he was soaking wet.
“Someone sure is wet this morning,” Janisse cooed as Emily’s face exploded in a blush.
“I didn’t mean to,” Emily sulked in a pathetic, mewing whine. “It . . . it was just an accident. I don’t usually have accidents at night like this. I don’t know what came over me.”
He looked up solemnly at Lauren’s beautiful face, which was staring back down at him with something of a shit-eating grin. Her grip on him suddenly became much tighter as she pulled him even closer and gave him a small, reassuring peck on the cheek.
“It’s alright sugar plum. No one really expected you to wake up dry.” She patted Emily’s squishy bum. “And besides, it’s probably good for you to get used to feeling wet down there. After today, that’s going to be pretty normal for you.”
Emily found this latest tidbit of information very concerning. He broke free from Lauren’s grasp and took a few nervous steps backwards. “W . . . what do you mean, Lauren?” Emily asked cautiously.
Both of the girls found Emily’s obliviousness to the situation at hand to be very adorable, which was obvious from the mere giggles he got as a response. Lauren once again stepped forward and grabbed Emily’s hand, rubbing it tenderly with a wistful look in her eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, baby. In fact...from now on, don’t worry about anything at all. Just do what you’re told like a good little girl and don’t ask any more questions. I promise that today will go by much more smoothly if you just leave the worrying to the adults and focus on being the best, most obedient little girl you can be.”
It was all too much for Emily to process this early in the day. He stammered in place trying to think of a response, but was quickly silenced by Janisse, who approached with his pacifier and confidently plopped it into his mouth. He glumly accepted the soother and looked defeatedly around the room, first at the colorful and infantile assortment of toys and decor that were strewn about, and then at his juvenile playmate from yesterday, who was still sleeping soundly despite all the commotion. Finally, his gaze returned to the beautiful, but imposing female figures in front of him, who obviously saw him as nothing less than their own personal plaything. Taking everything into account, he figured it was hardly worth it to argue anymore. They had already dragged him so low, maybe it was best to just go along with it and try to get home as quickly as possible. With tearful eyes, he nodded and gave his pacifier a couple of suc-ks to show his submission.
“That’s better, Emmy. No more talking from you,” Jannise said in a voice one might use for an obedient puppy.
Lauren nodded approvingly and began to pull Emily in the direction of the door. “Alright, now that we’re up and at 'em’, I’m afraid we have to bring you back to your mommy’s house. I wish we could spend some more time together, but your mommy told me to bring you back nice and early. I don’t know if she told you this, but she has some big plans for you today. Somebody is about to be a very lucky little girl.”
Emily did not like the sound of this one bit, but felt completely helpless to do anything but follow Lauren’s lead as she led him out of Cara’s room and down the stairs, where Sherry was waiting in the foyer with Emily’s bag in hand.
“Wet,” Sherry said, striking a hole through Emily’s pride as he descended. “Disgusting.”
Lauren, taking Emily’s bag, just laughed and nodded. “I’ll put the sleeping bag in the wash, Mom. And honestly, from the point of view of Emily’s therapist, a night-time accident is a really good thing, a really big step.”
Sherry just shook her head as she stared contemptuously at Emily. “I always knew this one was nothing but a giant sissy, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that acting like a pissy-pants little baby comes so naturally to her. I’m just glad she’s finally getting the treatment that a weak little sissy like her deserves. This is just so much better for everyone involved, isn’t it? Now she doesn’t have to go around trying to prove that she’s anything more than she actually is. It just seems like a win-win all around. When you see Melissa, tell her I approved whole-heartedly with what she’s doing and that she has my full support.”
“Thanks, Mom, I will!” Lauren said.
Sherry just patted Emily on the head. “Have a safe trip across the street, sissy. If you ever want to come over for another playdate, just tell your mommy to give me a call. My younger daughter seemed to have lots of fun with you last night, and I’m sure you must have had a blast as well. We’d love to have you around again sometime.”
Emily wanted to respond that he did not, in fact, have a blast the previous night, and that he really didn’t appreciate being called a sissy either, but he was far too intimidated to do so. Instead, he mindlessly suc-ked on his pacifier as his eyes welled up with tears.
“I think she’s still a bit cranky from waking up this morning,” Lauren observed as she approached the entrance and swung the front door open. “All the more reason to get her back home as quickly as possible.”
Janisse pushed Emily forward until he was standing in the open doorway, where Lauren grabbed hold of his arm and began pulling him towards the front porch. Emily, however, could not bring himself to follow. Instead, his body tensed up before looking up at her with a worried, pleading expression.
“Bu-but . . . we’re leaving already? What about breakfast? You don’t really expect me to go out there dressed like this do you?” he whimpered to Lauren meekly. “You haven’t even changed me out of my . . . my . . . ”
“Your wet pull-ups?” Lauren finished for him, so easily saying the words that he couldn’t find the courage to say out loud. “That’s all right, sweetie. Your mommy can just change you when you get home. It’s only, like, thirty seconds away, anyway.” She suddenly became much more forceful, pulling him along with her until he was standing outside in the morning air for all to see. She turned him around so that Sherry and Janisse could bid him farewell, before re-inserting his pacifier and dragging him reluctantly down the footpath and towards the large house across the street. As they made their way over, Emily tried his best not to look at the distant joggers and dog-walkers, who were no doubt squinting to get a better look at the peculiar sight.
Once Emily reached his driveway, things only seemed to go from bad to worse. A familiar, black, stylish sports car was parked at the end of the driveway; a tell-tale sign that Dr Thurman was here. Emily felt himself go flush as the prospect of Dr Thurman seeing him in one of his most childish, humiliating outfits yet started to overtake his mind.
Seeing Emily’s trembling, Lauren kneeled down in front of him and gently brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Hey!” Lauren whispered. “Today’s a big day for you, a day with a lot of changes. And I know changes can sometimes be hard. But can you do me a favor?”
Emily nodded weakly.
“Can you try -- really try -- to just be a good girl for me and for your Mommy and for Dr. Thurman? Can you trust that we all love you and that we know what’s best for you?”
Emily nodded again, eager to do whatever he could to please Lauren.
“Good! What a good girl you are. Just remember, anytime you feel embarrassed or want to resist your therapy . . . just remember that that’s just your male ego flaring up. We know it’s strong, but me and your Mommy and your Doctor are going to help crush every last bit of it, ‘cause you’re not a man at all, are you? Right, baby girl?”
Emily’s stomach felt like it had fallen out and was rocketing towards the center of the Earth, but Lauren just smiled radiantly like this was the best news in the world. Not waiting for an answer from Emily, she stood back up and rang the doorbell.
What happened next was a surprise to both of them. Instead of being greeted by Melissa as they had expected, the door swung open and revealed Dr Thurman’s stern, statuesque figure standing in the doorway. She nodded approvingly at the sight of Emily standing there in his soaked-through leotard with the purple dummy hanging out of his mouth, being led everywhere by a girl who was supposed to be his own age. She was sure that he was now exactly at the point she needed him to be.
“Ah, there you are! Right on time as well,” she greeted them with a professional nod. “Thank you for looking after her, Lauren. You’ve been a tremendous help so far. I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble at the party last night.”
“Don’t mention it. We had lots of fun,” Lauren responded. “It’s nice to see you again, Dr Thurman. Is today the day that you’re finally going through with it?”
Dr Thurman’s lips contorted into a huge, almost sinister grin. She nodded her head.
“Incredible!” Lauren squealed. “You’ll have to have Mrs. Harper show me everything when you’re done. This is so exciting! I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”
“I’m excited too, dear, but I’m afraid we won’t truly be ‘done’ for a long, long time,” Dr Thurman stated plainly, although it was clear that she did share some of Lauren’s enthusiasm. She turned her head to get another look at Emily, and raised her eyebrow when she noticed his stature appear to shrink before her eyes. “Still,” she continued, “the fact that we’ve gotten this far already gives me hope that the next steps of Emily’s therapy will be a resounding success. I’ll be sure to let Melissa know to keep you informed about the going-ons in Emily’s life from here on out. The more people who know and are dedicated to making it work, the better.”
“Totally!” Lauren said, “Anything I can do to help, I want to do it!”
After pulling Emily in for one more hug, Lauren left Emily in Dr. Thurman’s care. Lauren was already halfway down the driveway and he could feel his leotard being tugged as Dr Thurman pulled him inside. When he saw the door closing behind him, he knew he was trapped. He didn’t know what was about to happen here, but if he knew one thing for sure, it was that surprise visits from Dr. Thurman were never a good sign.
“Come on sissy-pants,” Dr Thurman bid sternly as she started dragging him down the hall. “Your mommy and I have much to discuss.”
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Beautifully written. My brain is going crazy with the intense build up! Please continue as soon as you can! Thanks so much for all your efforts. You are bringing such enjoyment to all your readers, we appreciate it.
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I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has posted and said nice things about this story that Cuddlebunns and I have written together. I was so worried that it would be seen as too slow-building or too derivative (Baby Bobby and Andlat are two of my favorite writers, and their work casts a long shadow over my contributions for sure--I hope it comes off as tribute, not rip-off). It really means a lot to hear that this has hit others deeply and really spoken to something deep in them. That means so much. Thank you for taking the time to share your positive feedback.
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Brilliant, well written, great plot, very exciting. Pull-ups not doing it? Maybe time for nappies/diapers?
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN -- EMILY’S BIG DAY: HOMECOMING
Melissa waited impatiently in the living room as she listened to the pitter patter of steps approaching from the hallway. As the steps got closer, her heart beat faster and faster in her chest. Today was the day she had been waiting for, the day she had been hyping up in her head for months. She knew the coming changes would all be very difficult for her former son to take in, but Melissa’s mind and heart were made up. There was no more doubt. She had a daughter. She’d always had a daughter. She just hadn’t always known that. But Dr. Thurman had helped her see the truth about her child. Yes, the changes they were going to put in place today would be hard for Melissa’s daughter, but everything was going to be for the best. Dr Thurman had made it perfectly clear that this was exactly what her dear, sweet Emily needed, and if nothing else, the last few months had proven the psychiatrist’s assertions correct. Month after month of long talks and scheming with the good doctor had all led up to this moment, and a surge of emotions were now pushing deeply through Melissa’s core.
When she was finally greeted by the sight of Dr Thurman leading her delicate daughter into the living room by the hand, everything inside of her came to a boil. Melissa jumped off the couch and nearly sprinted towards them in excitement. She wrapped her arms around Emily and pulled him in for a suffocating, motherly hug, mashing his face against her full ample breasts and excitedly rocking him in place like he was some sort of ragdoll.
“My baby! My sweet baby girl!” She sang out joyously, showering the wincing little girl in a barrage of wet, sloppy kisses. “I’ve waited so long for this day! You have no idea how happy I am to see you! And that outfit . . . it’s so precious! Did you know, baby? Did you dress up like that for mommy because you know what today is?”
A cold sweat broke out over Emily’s neck. He tilted his head up to stare directly at Melissa with a look of nervous confusion. “N . . . No. I don’t know what today is, mommy. I have no idea what’s going on,” he replied in a muffled voice, feeling cut off from oxygen due to Melissa’s overbearing hug as well as the pacifier that was still logged in his mouth.
Melissa realised she was hugging Emily too hard and finally released him.
“Look at you,” she said, beaming. “All wet in the morning! Well, good news for you, Miss Priss! Today is the very last day you’ll ever have to wear a pull-up!”
To Emily’s ears, this was very good news indeed! He hoped his Mommy would change him out of his wet pull-up (and the soaked leotard), but instead she just lead him back over to the couch and, after putting a towel across her legs to protect against his wetness, pulled him onto her lap. It was clear that her motherly feelings were stronger than ever, and Emily was left feeling confused as to what the meaning of all this was.
“Don’t worry, honey. Mommy is here now, and she and Dr Thurman are going to explain everything.” Melissa cooed.
“Yes,” added Dr Thurman, who was now shuffling a stack of official looking papers in her hand, “I suppose now that we’re all here, we can finally get down to business.”
Dr Thurman walked over to the other side of the couch and sat herself down, combing through the stack of papers until she found the one she needed, and pulling it out to read over. Her relative formality was worrying to Emily, who felt like a trapped animal being held firmly in his mother’s arms. Dr Thurman cleared her voice before finally beginning to speak.
“Emily,” She began in a cold, businesslike voice, “As you’ve probably noticed, the therapy you’ve undertaken at my discretion has brought about many changes in your life. You have surely noticed that the authority figures in your life have been treating you younger and younger as time goes on, as well as encouraging you to present in a more feminine manner. Although I have tried to convince your mother countless times that even more intensive treatment is required, she has been reluctant to take my advice. That is, until now.”
Melissa felt a terrified Emily squirm in her lap and attempt to respond, but she was able to hold him in place and silence him by placing a finger over his pacifier. “Shhh . . . Let Dr Thurman finish, sweet pea,” she scolded him gently.
Dr Thurman continued: “Up to now, Emily, you’ve probably been under the impression that all of these changes are temporary. I am here today to assure you that they are not.” Scooting closer to Emily, she reached over and grabbed his face, forcing eye contact. “Look at me when I say this to you, Emily,” she said. “I want you to remember this moment, because this is the moment when your life, as you knew it, ends. Your life as you knew it is over, completely and irrevocably. Your manhood and your adulthood--or whatever little scraps of those things you ever had--are over and done with. From this moment forth, you are a toddler girl, and you will be treated as such, twenty-four seven.”
Emily’s eyes went wide with terror as he was forced to stare into Dr. Thurman’s unrelenting, dominant gaze. He started to try to protest, or to ask his Mommy for help, but Dr. Thurman cut him off. “Let me say that again: you are a little toddler girl now. Period. That’s actually who you’ve always been, you were just mistakenly allowed to think differently. But that’s over now. Now, your Mommy and I are going to give you the treatment and care you deserve. You are weak-willed and bad at making decisions, so from now on, we are going to be making all decisions for you. And let me assure you, if you even think about trying to resist, if you get any silly ideas about insisting that you’re fifteen years old or a boy? You will be punished. Swiftly and severely.”
“We love you, honey,” Melissa said, holding Emily tightly and feeling how fast his terrified heart was racing. “We don’t want to punish you, ever.”
“But we are in charge of your care,” Dr. Thurman said icily, “and for entirely too long, you’ve had this false sense of young adulthood and this false sense of masculinity. It’s our job, our duty, to help find those false selves in you and smash them, utterly root them out.”
“So you see, baby,” Melissa intoned, “it will be better for you if you just relax and be a good girl and accept that you’re our little baby girl, now and for -- Oh my!” Melissa had had her head angled downwards as she whispered in Emily’s ear, but she stopped talking with she realized that Emily--whose leotard and pull-up were already soaked--was moaning behind his pacifier and wetting himself even further. Melissa and Dr. Thurman could see the wetness stains on his leotard spreading and a warm pool of pee forming under his thighs, soaking the towel Melissa had put down. “What a good baby!” Melissa cooed. She knew her daughter was wetting himself out of stress and overwhelm, but she and Dr. Thurman had talked about this a million times; the transition would be difficult, but the only way to truly love Emily was to help him acknowledge his true, feminine, self. “You just go ahead and wet yourself, Miss Priss,” Melissa said, “isn’t Mommy a silly Mommy for not putting her baby-waby into her diaper-wipers? Come on, let’s go fix silly Mommy’s silly mistake, pumpkin!”
“May as well let her see her new nursery,” Dr. Thurman said. “Then we can come back and finalize all the paperwork.”
Emily was in a state of near-complete shock as Melissa ushered him to his feet and began directing him toward the stairs. Normally, he would have put up at least some resistance, but everything that was happening was so surreal that he found himself mindlessly following her directions in a near dreamlike state. Dr Thurman followed closely behind, and the three of them quickly made their way towards what used to be Emily’s room.
Once they finally reached the entrance, Dr Thurman had a slightly sadistic smile on her face as she turned the knob and opened the door. Melissa, who was possessively holding onto Emily’s shoulders from behind, wasted no time before forcefully steering him inside. Gasping in shock, Emily, unable to believe what he was now looking at, felt his pacifier leave his mouth and drop gracelessly onto the carpeted floor.
“Surprised?” Dr Thurman asked Emily with an air of smug superiority. He fell onto his knees in disbelief, taking in the sight of his new room, now realizing why the two women had referred to it as his nursery. It was a nursery! His bed and his television were gone, replaced by a large white crib with soft lavender sheets and a spinning mobile adjourned with horses, small plastic rattles, and other babyish things. A wooden toy box now sat in the corner filled with all sorts of stuffed animals that he was much too old for. An adult sized changing table had also been set up opposite the crib, replacing the shabby old wooden dresser he had used since he was a child, although judging from the cabinets lining the side of the new table, it was clear that it doubled as a dresser and was intended to be its replacement. Above the changing table, however, sat the scariest sight of all; rows upon rows of soft disposable diapers, all with embarrassing infantile prints, sized especially for someone like him. Tears materialized around Emily’s eyes as he felt Melissa’s hand pat him condescendingly on the head.
“I know darling, it’s just so beautiful isn’t it?” Melissa gushed warmly, ignoring Emily’s obvious turmoil. “The people from A Caring Place did a wonderful job redecorating your nursery, didn’t they? No more big-girl furniture for mommy’s little princess! Now you’ll always be safe at night in your crib, right where mommy can see you. I don’t have to worry anymore about my sweet little girl trying to sneak out of bed and get into trouble. Nuh-uh, those days are over.”
Emily tilted his head up to look at her pleadingly, but there was nothing but a look of warm content in her eyes. It was clear that not only did she really want this for him, but from her point of view, the deed had already been done. There was no more arguing to be had. Without even so much as asking him, she had already decided that Emily was a baby, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. How much further could they possibly even go from here?
Melissa helped him to his feet and gave him a playful smack on the bottom. “Alright honey, I know you must be excited to finally get into your fresh new diapers, so let’s get those wet pull-ups off of you. It’s clear to me just from looking at them that you can’t quite handle them yet.” Without warning she began removing his tutu and leotard, wasting no time grabbing the sides of his sopping wet pull-ups and sliding them down his nervous, shaky legs.
-
“Mommy, no…” Emily whined softly, finally gaining enough courage to speak up. “I . . . I’m not a baby. You can’t make me wear diapers. This is going too far. Can’t we just talk about this?”
“What’s there to even talk about, honey?” Melissa responded with a playful roll of the eyes. “Are you seriously going to argue with me that you don’t need this? I just slid a soggy pair of pull ups off of your legs. You’ve been wetting yourself almost constantly. If you’re going to be a little baby who wets themselves that’s fine, but Mommy should at least be able to treat you how you act.”
Melissa handed the wet princess pull-up to Dr. Thurman, who brought it over to the new diaper pail that was sitting below Emily’s changing table. Pressing her foot down on the pedal, the top quickly swung open and she dropped it inside, where it careened to the bottom with a dull thud.
“Your mother is right, Emily,” the doctor added plainly in a no-nonsense voice. “This has been a long time coming. It’s clear from the way you’ve been acting that you can’t handle even the small amount of responsibilities that we’ve left you with. It was made abundantly clear that you were still expected to come get an adult when you needed to use the bathroom, and you’ve failed to do that time and time again. Now, we’re not going to punish you for it, but it does confirm something that I’ve been suspecting from the very beginning, something I’ve spent a great amount of time trying to convince your mommy of. You need to be treated as young as possible. You need to be regressed to the point of infancy because it’s all that you can handle. Deep down, a part of you never progressed past the point of babyhood, and if we let you keep pretending that you’re any more independent than you’re capable of being, we could be doing serious long term damage to your self esteem.”
Damage to his self esteem? Because he wasn’t being treated young enough? Was she serious? Emily pouted and balled his fists in frustration. “No! This is crazy!” He yelled out after a moment’s hesitation, feeling months of rage at the indignity of his treatment finally come boiling to the surface. “All of this little girl stuff has gone too far! I’m a teenage boy, not some simpering little doll for you to do what you want with! I’m not going to let you put me in diapers like I’m a baby! It’s not going to happen!”
There was a moment of silence, followed by Melissa and Dr Thurman exchanging glances at each other knowingly. “Should I do the honors, or do you want to handle it?” Dr Thurman asked Melissa. Melissa looked at Emily for a second and frowned.
“You can handle it,” she responded with a tentative sigh. “You obviously have much more experience with this kind of thing than I do.”
Dr Thurman nodded and stepped forward, grabbing Emily by the hand and pulling him aggressively towards a large plush chair in the corner. “Wait, what are you doing?” He yelled in surprise as he felt her sit down and thrust his naked body over her thighs.
“Teaching you some manners,” Dr. Thurman scowled, swinging her hand down with a loud smack onto Emily’s bottom, which caused him to yell out in pain. With an air of professionalism, she then politely asked Melissa to grab the punishment paddle from the closet, which Melissa did without hesitation. When Emily saw his mother return with the large pink paddle, he felt all the color and boldness drain instantly from his face.
“If you want to avoid punishments like this in the future, Emily . . . ” Dr Thurman began, grabbing the paddle and rubbing it teasingly across Emily’s bare bottom, “then I’d suggest you learn rather quickly that little girls do as they’re told.” She emphasised her delivery by raising the paddle up and slamming it down hard against Emily’s cheeks. Emily kicked his legs and screamed out in pain. He had been spanked before, but nothing like this, and never with a paddle. This was excruciating.
“You say you’re not a baby girl, but it’s obvious to everyone else that’s exactly what you are,” Dr Thurman continued, periodically heaping punishment down upon Emily’s bottom as she laid out his situation in no uncertain terms. “You certainly don’t act like a man. Failing all of your classes, pissing yourself whenever you get nervous, following women your own age around mindlessly like they’re your babysitters . . . if you were my child I would have done this from the very beginning. You may still think of yourself like a big boy, but trust me, you’re the only one who does, and you have no one to blame but yourself for the treatment you’re about to receive.”
By now Emily was bawling his eyes out. As smack after smack rained down upon his bottom, a trail of tears and snot was running pathetically down his face, making him look every bit the baby that Dr Thurman was trying to convince him that he was. She shook her head and snickered.
“Look at you, bawling like a baby. This is exactly what you deserve. Once I’m done, I’m going to have you get up, look your mommy in the eye, and apologize for absolutely everything. First, you’re going to tell her how sorry you are for wasting her time pretending to be a boy. Then you’re going to apologize for making her spend all this time and money returning you to a point that you never really should have left in the first place. Once you’ve done those two things, and convinced her that you truly mean it, do you know what else you’re going to do? I’ll tell you exactly what else you’re going to do, sissy. You’re going to beg her profusely to put you in a diaper, and plead desperately for her to treat you like the little girl you are. You’re going to thank her for realising that you’re never going to be a real man, and that you’re only capable of being her helpless, prissy baby girl. And finally, when all is said and done, you’re going to shut your mouth, climb up on that changing table, let us tape that red, stinging butt of yours into a cute baby diaper, and trust that everything your mommy and I do from here on out is in your best interest with no complaints. Am I making myself clear?”
She gave him one final smack for emphasis, but it was completely unnecessary. Emily was already bawling like a baby and ready to do whatever she commanded of him. He babbled something that sounded like a “yes” and nodded his head up and down in a show of true submission. It was all he could manage, but it was good enough. Without a change in her expression, Dr Thurman helped Emily up to his feet. He instantly went running into Melissa’s open arms.
After a few moments of letting Emily cry into Melissa’s shoulder and regain his composure, Dr Thurman walked over to where the two of them were standing and once again got Emily’s attention. “Now what do you have to say to your mommy, little girl?,” she asked him inquisitively.
Emily dreaded what he was about to do, but he saw no way of getting out of it. The stinging pain on his bottom still felt excruciating, and he knew that no matter what, he would not be able to physically handle another round of such harsh punishment.
“I . . . I . . . ” He began stammering. He looked back up at the doctor’s face, who was staring at him with a piercing, threatening expression, and then back up at his mommy, who was gazing upon him with an expression of nothing but tender love and joy. He sniffled and winced. “I’m . . . sorry I couldn’t be a boy, Mommy,” he finally relented, sobbing in defeat. “I’m sorry that I wasted all this time p-p-pretending not to be a little girl. I know you just want what’s best for me. I tried to be a big boy, and I failed. Will you please . . . ” He paused and looked back up at Melissa, who was still looking at him with a mix of warmth and eager anticipation. He sighed. “Will you please, please treat me like a baby girl?”
Melissa squealed and pulled Emily in tight for a giant hug. Tears streaming down her face, she pulled back and looked at her daughter. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, wiping at her own eyes, “Thank you. Mommy knows that right now you’re just saying those things because you got paddled. And that’s okay. That’s a good place to start, and hearing you say those things makes Mommy very happy. But don’t you worry, baby girl, Mommy is going to work and work and work until you really believe what you’re saying. Mommy promises,” she cooed tenderly, hugging Emily again and gently rubbing his back. “And there’s no need to apologize, honey. Mommy knows that it’s not your fault you thought you were a boy. Mommy blames herself for not seeing the signs earlier. If I were a better mother, I would have done something about this years ago, before you started getting all of these false ideas in your head. Now that we know what you really are, we can start over, and you can just be yourself, darling. Of course you can be mommy’s little girl. You don’t have to be a big boy ever again, I promise.”
Melissa began to rock him sweetly in her arms, proud to finally have what she really wanted all along. Emily knew he was digging himself deeper and deeper with every passing moment, but he continued to see no escape. His teary eyes caught a stray glance from Dr Thurman, who was still staring at him with a stern, impatient look.
“Aren’t we forgetting something, princess?” She asked him in a cold stark tone, which was unbefitting of the use of such a cutesy pet name.
Emily swallowed nervously. “Um . . . Mommy?”
Melissa looked at him with a pleased grin on her face. She knew what was coming. Did he even need to ask? Of course he did. For whatever reason, she wanted him to. He shuffled his feet as one fresh new tear slid down his face.
“C-can you . . . can you please put me in diapers now?”
The joyous response from Melissa once again turned his reduced, gentle crying back into a full blown sob. She was happier than he’d ever seen her in his life. She released him momentarily to clap her hands in celebration, only to immediately pull him back into her warm embrace and begin bouncing him up and down throughout the room.
“Of course I can, babycakes!” She sang out to him merrily. “Mommy is so glad her little girl is finally ready to be a good baby for her. This is the happiest day of my life!”
Melissa was so caught up in her own joy and happiness that she was not paying attention to how utterly humiliated and defeated Emily was as she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him over to the changing table. Once they arrived in front of it, she placed a hand under him to help him climb up on top of the tall, padded counter, and commanded him sweetly to lay down for her. Meanwhile, Dr Thurman walked across the room and picked Emily’s pacifier up off of the ground. She cleaned it off on her blouse and, with a look of pure sadistic bliss on her face, walked back over and popped it back into his mouth. The domineering, coc-ky smile she was now giving him made it clear to Emily that he had no choice but to accept it and begin to suc-k.
At that same moment, Melissa was eyeing the stack of diapers lined neatly above Emily’s crib, trying to decide which one would look cutest on her little girl. This one should do, she thought to herself, pulling out a thick white and pink diaper that featured an array of hearts and unicorns all over it. She commanded Emily to lift his legs and slid the diaper neatly under him. She then lathered his lower half with a bottle of baby oil and added a mountain of baby powder over his smooth, hairless lower half. In truth, the excessive pile of baby powder over his bright lavender coc-k cage looked a bit ridiculous, but it was a sight that displayed such a complete and total level of submission that she couldn’t help but stop for a minute to take it all in. While all of this was happening, Emily just lay there silently with his head tuned to the side, suc-king his pacifier and wishing he could get this humiliating ordeal over with.
“And . . . done!” Melissa clucked happily as she raised the front of the diapers and secured the tapes in place. “How does it feel, little one? Are your new diapers comfortable?”
Emily looked down at his diapered bottom and hung his head in shame. He moved his hips around and felt out the diapers, taking in the added warmth and bulk they added. He was about to tell her “I dunno . . . they’re okay I guess”, but before he could get a word out she held her finger up to shush him.
“Shhh . . . it’s okay, baby. You don’t have to say anything. I think maybe you shouldn’t talk for a while, just to get used to your new role.”
Emily frowned profusely at this latest humiliation, but the grin on Dr Thurman’s face only seemed to be getting wider and wider. The two women helped him to his feet and grabbed one arm each as he wobbled in place, getting used to standing up with the new layer of bulk present between his legs.
“Alright,” Dr Thurman said in her usual succinct, business-like tone, “now that we have that out of the way, let’s head down to the kitchen where we can begin to discuss your new life.” And with that, the two women led the nervous, shaky sissy out of the nursery and towards the kitchen, where his fate would be sealed forever.
-
Hmmm. Silly grownups. Not the kitchen there might be a highchair in the kitchen but I think he's just wearing a top and her diaper she might get cold some warm baby booties and maybe some nice warm baby mittens too. :)
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Very perceptive, sarahpenguin. There most definitley might be a high chair waiting for Emily in the kitchen ;)
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Very perceptive, sarahpenguin. There most definitley might be a high chair waiting for Emily in the kitchen ;)
/me tickles the author relentlessly until they stop being mean to the protagonist and dress her up in a nice warm locking disabling baby mittens, matching warm baby booties, and a warm baby bonnet too.
It's close to winter you meanies
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Very good story. Scary and exciting at the same time.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN -- EMILY’S BIG DAY: MAKING IT ALL PERMANENT
Emily thought his capacity for shock had reached its limits, but when he turned the corner into the kitchen, his knees buckled once again when he saw the highchair.
“Mommy, no . . . ” he bleated around his pacifier. “Please don’t make me . . . ” He tried to plant his feet and stop moving forward, but he had no fight left at this point, and Melissa and Dr. Thurman, poised on either side of him, easily lifted his arms and pulled him forward, between them, with little difficulty.
Standing before the highchair--which was white with a lavender seat and trim and which was obviously sized to fit him--Emily’s heart raced a million miles an hour. He’d told himself, all throughout this process, that while things like breastfeeding and wearing pull-ups were strange for a boy his age, they were just part of his therapy. But this? A highchair? A highchair was for babies, period. No way around that. He continued to mewl into his pacifier as Dr. Thurman removed the highchair’s tray and Melissa helped him climb up a small set of lavender plastic stairs so that he could sit in the seat of the highchair. Once he was in, Dr. Thurman wasted no time pulling restraining straps over his shoulders and buckling them into the seat below, just between Emily’s legs, which were spread wide by his diaper. There was no way he was going anywhere now, and when his Mommy pushed the plastic tray back into place, his arms were pinned beneath the tray. Then, once the small plastic steps were moved away, Emily’s feet dangled in the air, about a foot off the floor. He could not stand, raise his hands, or even move around within his seat. Any movement he made served only to make his diaper crinkle loudly. He was trapped, and he’d be trapped until one of these women decided to release him. The humiliation of it all was too much to bear: Emily was hyperventilating and sobbing, tears streaming down his red, puffy face.
“There we are,” Dr. Thurman said with a cool smile, “Baby’s first tantrum in her high chair.”
“Mommy!” Emily blurted, spitting out her pacifier, which landed with a clunk on the white plastic highchair tray. “Mommy! Please don’t let her do this, Mommy! I’ll be good . . . I’ll . . . I’ll do anything, Mommy, please, please, please just let me out of here!” Emily’s spirits soared for a moment as Melissa rushed to his side.
“I know you’re going to be good,” Melissa said, sliding Emily’s pacifier back in his mouth. “That’s exactly what Mommy and Dr. Thurman are here to help with.” As Melissa spoke, she grabbed a plastic strap that Dr. Thurman handed her and attached it to Emily’s pacifier. “And Mommy knows this is hard. Mommy knows today is going to be hard and that probably the next few months are going to be very, very hard for Mommy’s special baby girl. But we have to work together, sweetie, not just to treat you like Mommy’s special baby girl, but to get you thinking that way too. We have a lot of nasty ego and pride to destroy, don’t we? Yes, we do.” As Melissa talked down to Emily in her cloying voice, she wrapped the strap around the back of his head and cinched it tight. Emily’s pacifier was now stuck in his mouth, no matter what.
“Now,” Dr. Thurman said to Emily, “you just sit there, baby girl. The sooner you get used to not talking, and to not being talked to directly, the better.”
Emily’s highchair was positioned so that he had a clear view of the kitchen table. As he bleated in frustration behind his unmovable pacifier and kicked his legs in the air, Dr. Thurman stepped out to the living room and returned with her briefcase. After she and Melissa sat down at the kitchen table, Dr. Thurman pulled out a large stack of what looked to be legal forms.
“First thing’s first,” Dr. Thurman said, sliding the top form over to Melissa. “Name change. Say goodbye--forever--to Michael Nicholas Harper and say hello to Emily Nicole Harper.” Tears of joy filled Melissa’s eyes as she signed her name on the form.
With smooth, almost mechanical efficiency, Dr. Thurman reclaimed the signed form, stowed it in her briefcase, and passed Melissa the second one. “Gender change,” she said. “Emily Nicole is no name for a boy, and once you sign this, your child will no longer, legally, be a boy.”
Remembering the times in the past when his Mommy had balked at the idea that he was a girl, Emily held out some ember of hope here. Maybe his Mommy would come to her senses at last. He was thrilled as Melissa paused before signing the form and said, “I do have one problem with this form.”
“Oh?” Dr. Thurman asked.
“I hate the idea that it’s a gender change,” Melissa said. “I hate that it implies that Emily was ever a boy, when you and I both know that that’s not the case.”
Dr. Thurman grinned. “I’m proud of you, Melissa.”
“I couldn’t have gotten to this point without your help.”
“I just had a feeling about you,” Dr. Thurman said, “For years I’ve been looking for the right kind of daughter with the right kind of mother, a mother who would really, truly, deeply understand my work and how far it needs to be taken.”
Melissa said nothing, smiled at Dr. Thurman, and signed the form.
“Next up,” said Dr. Thurman, taking the signed gender change form and passing Melissa a different form, “is school withdrawal. This states that Emily will be withdrawn from Central High School immediately, and that you will be homeschooling her in a manner that is appropriate for her age and maturity.”
In his high chair, Emily shouted into his pacifier and kicked his legs in anger. He tried, with all his might, to use his arms to push up on the highchair tray that they were pinned under, but none of this actions had any effect. He was exhausting himself with rage, but to anyone else in the room, he just looked, and sounded, like a toddler having a tantrum about being put in his high chair.
“Was this hard to get approval for?” Melissa asked as she signed the doc-ument.
“Oh no,” Dr. Thurman laughed. “Not at all. This little girl’s teachers all agreed that high school was too much for her and applauded your decision to remove Emily. Every single one of her teachers was happy to sign and attest that high school demanded a level of maturity that Emily was incapable of.”
Emily continued to howl and thrash ineffectually in his highchair. They could not possibly be serious! They were taking school from him? School? Without school, how was he ever supposed to . . .
“No prom,” Dr. Thurman said, looking icily at Emily. “No dating. No driver’s license. No homecoming football games. No SATs, no ACTs, no college admissions. No graduation. No senior prank. Not for our baby girl.”
Emily was safe and secure in his high chair, but internally, he felt like he was dropping, falling, sinking, watching his old life get smaller and smaller as it receded in the distance.
“Isn’t this for the best, sweetie?” Melissa asked him. “Think about how miserable school made you, and how hard we tried with organizational planners and tutors and extra help. Now, none of that matters. You’ll be here at home with me, twenty-four-seven.”
If either woman cared that Emily was sobbing profusely, neither seemed to acknowledge it. Dr. Thurman simply continued her process. “There’s one more legal form, but we’ll save that for last. Right now, we’ll move on to the contracts from A Caring Place, the doc-uments that lay out the rules for Emily’s therapy, the rules that must be followed if --”
“That will be followed,” Melissa said, with certainty.
Dr. Thurman laughed. “The rules that will be followed if you and Emily are to remain my clients.”
The doctor closed the folder containing the legal doc-uments and placed it neatly onto the table. She then reached for a large purple binder, which had a paper insert on the front containing the name and logo for A Caring Place, and opened it up, flipping the pages until she found the section she desired. She cleared her throat and began to scan the page in front of her.
“Alright, I won’t read these directly from the page, since this doc-ument is filled with lots of legalistic and technical jargon, but I’ll be sure to summarize everything as best as I can. Emily, as someone who is now enrolled in A Caring Place’s ‘Intensive Regression-Therapy Program’, you will be given a list of rules and general guidelines that you will need to follow at all times. Failing to do so will result in any number of disciplinary actions. The terrible spanking I just gave you is one of the lighter punishments on the list, so I advise that you listen to me, and listen well. These rules will govern your day to day life for the foreseeable future. You will be expected to follow them at all times, not just to the letter, but in their spirit as well. They are as follows:
Rule #1: Your Mother and I are now completely in charge of every aspect of your care, and we will be making all of your decisions for you, regardless of your consent. From this moment on, you are done making any decisions for yourself. You will do everything we tell you without backtalk or complaints, and anyone we put in charge of you will have authority over you as well. You will go where we tell you to go. Stay put where we tell you to stay put. You will eat what, and when, we tell you to eat, sleep when we tell you to sleep, wear what we tell you to wear, and do it all without question. You are no longer an independent teenager. You never were. You are now--have always been and will always be--a fragile, dependent toddler girl who must do whatever she is told, no questions asked.
Rule #2: As per your new infantilized status, you are no longer permitted to speak like an adult under any circ-umstances. From now on you will do most of your communicating through a mixture of body language, crying, and simplistic, one word responses. From this point forward, speaking in sentences of any kind will be strictly prohibited, and you will only be allowed to speak if you are responding to a question someone has asked you. Even then, you may only respond to them with one word answers, and absolutely nothing longer than two-syllables is allowed. You will also lisp whenever you speak, and try to sound as close to how a real baby would as you possibly can.
Rule #3: From now on, the toilet is strictly forbidden. When you feel the need to relieve yourself, you will do so in your diaper, just like any infant. You are also not permitted to remove your diaper under any circ-umstances, and diaper changes will be carried out either by your mother, or anyone else who she deems fit. You will also never be allowed to ask for a diaper change yourself. Instead, you will be given routine diaper checks by your mother, and you will be changed entirely at her discretion.
Rule #4: As of now, you no longer have any right to privacy. Nor do you have any kind of adult sexuality. As a diapered baby girl, you will be given many diaper changes where people will have access to parts of your body that you may consider taboo for other people to see or touch. Even though you are currently locked up and unable to gain pleasure through physical stimulation, it bears repeating that as a little girl you will have no sexual thoughts or urges whatsoever. If you ever try to respond to routines such as your diaper changes or bathtime in a sexual manner, or if you try to initiate physical contact with anyone or anything in a sexual way, you will be punished severely for it.
Rule #5: Unless someone in charge of you is holding your hand and giving you express permission to walk on two legs, you are no longer allowed to walk or stand up on your own. Instead, you will crawl around on your hands and knees just like a real infant would.
Rule #6: Your mother will control all of the media you consume from now on and make sure it is age-appropriate for a baby girl. You will no longer be allowed to watch adult television, read adult books, listen to adult music, or use the internet on your own without your mother there to supervise you, and even then I have the feeling that she won’t want to expose you to anything too inappropriate. Get used to Sesame Street and Sofia the First, baby girl, because you certainly won’t be watching Star Wars or Marvel movies any time soon. You will also be barred from playing video games, as the hand eye coordination required is much too complicated for a girl your age.
And finally, Rule #7: You must never, under any circ-umstances, insist that you are, or ever were, a male, or make any reference to your past life. As far as we are concerned, we are starting you over from the beginning as an innocent, adorable baby girl, and you will be expected to act as convincingly in that role as possible. If someone calls you a good girl, you will be thankful. If they call you pretty, you will act like you just received a compliment. If you are caught accidentally acting too much like a boy, you will be expected to self correct and change your behaviour to be more feminine, or else you will be punished.”
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Emily felt his stomach drop to the floor as Dr. Thurman finished reading the last rule on the page. They were no longer making any pretenses about the purpose of his therapy. None of this was in place to help him grow and develop as a person. They truly did plan on treating him like a baby, and they were going to ensure that he acted the part as well. A flurry of thoughts and emotions were now running their course through Emily’s head. How was this even legal? It was like they were stripping him of his very personhood right before his eyes, and they were announcing their intentions to do so right to his face. Emily’s sobs were beginning to get even louder now, brought on by an unwillingness to accept that this could possibly be happening to him.
“Oh honey, you don’t have to be upset! These are all perfectly fine rules for a baby girl,” Melissa cooed in sympathy, walking over to his high chair to grab his head and hold it close to her chest for comfort. “You’ll come to love being my baby again, you’ll see. No more big boy responsibilities to weigh you down. No more difficult thoughts filling your head and giving you a nasty headache. Now all you’ll ever need to think about is how much you love your mommy . . . and even then, you won’t have to think very hard, because mommy will always be around to show you. Just cheer up and give it a chance. You’ll realise you’re much more suited to being mommy’s little princess in no time, I promise.”
“Well, she’d better . . . ” Dr Thurman added, closing the binder and once again reaching for the folder in front of her, “because once you sign this, she’s going to be your baby girl for the rest of her life.”
She pulled out an imposing, legalistic looking form with a header which read “Authorisation For Extended Legal Guardianship.” Melissa took one look at the doc-ument and her eyes began to glow. Something about this paper in particular caused a deep emotional reaction in her.
“Rebecca! Were you really able to . . . ?” Melissa gasped in exasperation. Dr Thurman nodded.
“Yes, Melissa, I was. I had to pull a lot of strings, since my methods are admittedly quite unorthodox, but I’ve helped plenty of people in the legal industry. So I was able to call in some favors and make the case necessary to award you legal guardianship of your daughter . . . permanently. All you have to do is sign the bottom of this form, and as soon as it’s processed, it’ll be official. You will have your baby girl for good.”
Melissa suddenly broke out into tears of joy. With all of the warmth and gratitude in the world, she walked over to Dr Thurman and grabbed hold of her tightly, wrapping her in for an enormous hug. Her voice was coarse and filled with emotions as she cried large, happy tears.
“Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this all means to me, how much it means for my family,” she sobbed. “I am so, so grateful for everything you have done for my little girl. I don’t know how I could ever repay you. This is all just too much . . . ”
“You have no need to repay me,” Dr Thurman responded politely. “You’ve given me a once in a lifetime opportunity to put my most advanced theories into practice, and I will forever be grateful for that. I think I speak for both of us when I say this is an arrangement that works for everyone involved.”
As Melissa pulled away from her hug with Dr Thurman, she turned around to look at Emily with an expression that appeared as if she had just walked off the set of a Hallmark movie. Grabbing the doc-ument off the table, she proudly held it up to give Emily a better look.
“Do you know what this is, Emily?” Melissa asked excitedly. Emily hesitated for a second before shaking his head. “Well,” Melissa continued, “This is a doc-ument which gives me permanent legal guardianship over you after you turn 18! That means that even after you become a legal adult, the state will still consider you incapable of living independently, and you’ll remain under my care for good. If you ever got lost or tried running away, Mommy could just call the authorities to come retrieve you, and you’d end up right back here, safe in Mommy’s arms. You’re going to be my baby forever, sissykins! Aren’t you excited?”
This latest bit of news sent Emily into a berserker rage. He let out a loud, muffled scream into his pacifier and once again began to jerk himself around, thrashing about wildly, but ultimately achieving nothing due to the restraints. His steady sobs then turned into a waterfall of upset tears. This could not be happening. Every second of this cursed day seemed to be getting worse and worse.
Dr Thurman, however, was not having any of it. “Emily, calm down right now, before you force me to spank you again.” She commanded him. “This violent behaviour is entirely unbefitting of a little girl. Your mommy is doing all of this for your own good, and I expect you to show her the appreciation she deserves.”
Ever the weak-willed little pansy, the doctor’s threat of physical retribution was enough to break Emily’s will to resist entirely. He simply could not endure another spanking like he got earlier, no matter what the cost. With a sudden halt, he dropped his head in shame and just sat there crying, utterly defeated as the reality of his new life played out in his mind.
“Aww, my poor baby . . . ” Melissa cooed with sympathy. “I know it’s hard to accept, darling. It’s hard to accept that you’ll never be a man after years of expecting to become one someday, but mommy doesn’t mind sweetheart. Not every little boy is capable of growing up to become a big strong man, you know. Especially the ones who were never really boys to begin with. Your mommy knows how hard this must be for you, but you need to understand that from now on, things are going to be different. It’s going to take a long time to unlearn all these wrong ideas that society has put in your head. We’re going to need to break down your ego entirely just to build you back up all over again. I don’t blame you for being upset, but just know that Mommy will be there every step of the way to guide you with her love. I’ll always be there for you sweetheart. Mommy loves you, no matter what.
Melissa punctuated her speech by bending over to give Emily a kiss on the forehead. The poor sissy was too despondent to respond, and just remained there with his head held down as Melissa pulled out a chair and sat back down at the table.
“So I just sign here, and it’s official?,” she asked Dr Thurman.
“Yes. Once you sign it, she’s all yours. Forever,” the doctor replied, handing Melissa a pen with an accomplished smile on her face. “And if anything ever were to happen to you, custody of Emily would revert to A Caring Place, supervised personally by me of course.”
Melissa closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Finally, it was the moment she had been waiting for. Never again would she have to experience the feeling of loneliness she had felt when her husband passed away. Emily would never, ever get the chance to leave her side. Her daughter would never abandon her as so many other children abandon their parents, because her daughter would be completely dependent on her, now and forever more. She accepted the pen from Dr. Thurman and quickly signed her name on the doc-ument. A hush fell across the kitchen as she did so. Melissa sat, quietly weeping tears of joy, staring at Emily and pressing her hand to her chest. Dr. Thurman looked on in smug satisfaction. Emily for her part, sat in stunned silence, trying to process the enormity of everything that had just been explained to him. The silence lasted several long minutes, almost as if all three people in the kitchen were, each in their own way, honoring the immensity of the change that had just taken place.
Finally, it was Dr. Thurman who broke the silence. “Melissa,” she said gently, “don’t you think your baby girl is hungry by now?”
“Oh my God!” Melissa said, wiping at her eyes, “of course! She hasn’t even had breakfast yet, the poor thing! Sweetie,” she said, standing and moving to Emily’s high chair, “you need to get used to babbling for Mommy when you need to be fed!” Unhooking the strap securing Emily’s pacifier, she held the soother in Emily’s mouth with her hand as she looked down and said, “Are you hungry, baby girl?” Seeing Emily nodding yes, Melissa continued, “if Mommy takes her sweet baby girl’s pacifier out, can Emily say ‘nom nom’ for her Mommy? Can Emily remember that she’s not allowed to use big words anymore and just say ‘nom nom, Mommy?’ Can Emily do that?”
As she spoke, Melissa slid the pacifier out of Emily’s mouth. Even as she pulled it away, a string of drool connected its clear plastic bulb to Emily’s pink lips. Emily wanted to wipe the drool away, but his hands were pinned. There was nothing he could do about the drool. It was beginning to dawn on him that there was nothing he could do about any of this.
“What do you say, baby?” Melissa asked.
There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to scream. But Dr. Thurman was here and she was staring at him and his bottom still ached from his earlier spanking. So he lowered his head and whispered.
“What was that, baby girl? Mommy couldn’t hear you.”
“Nom nom,” Emily said, slightly louder. “Nom nom, Mommy. Nom nom.”
“What a good girl!” Melissa said, re-inserting Emily’s pacifier. “What a good baby girl! Mommy will get you some nom nom right away!”
Emily assumed he’d be fed in the high chair, but working together with Dr. Thurman, Melissa soon removed the highchair’s tray and its restraints. As Melissa helped a confused Emily out of the highchair, Dr. Thurman put a hand on one of Emily’s shoulders and pressed down firmly, reminding Emily that as soon as his feet hit the floor he needed to keep on going, moving past standing until he was kneeling on the kitchen floor. “There,” Dr. Thurman said. “That’s your place. Your Mommy is going to take you back to your nursery now. You crawl behind her. I’ll be just behind you, watching you, so don’t get any ideas about being a big girl.”
Emily felt beyond stupid, crawling on all fours at his Mommy’s heel while he was wearing nothing but a diaper and a pacifier. The diaper felt huge between his legs, and it made him spread his legs further apart than he normally would if he crawled. His bottom felt like it was on fire, the diaper was awkward and humiliating, crawling was awkward and humiliating, his head was spinning from his life as he’d known it basically being over, and on top of it all, he really was hungry. Starving in fact. Emily had never had much willpower, but he was miles and miles past fighting now. He felt like he was trapped in a tide. He didn’t like where it was pulling him, but he was powerless to fight it.
He struggled, crawling awkwardly, to keep up as Melissa led him through the living room, up the stairs, and back into his nursery. His nursery. He had a nursery now. Because he was a baby. Just thinking it made his whole body shudder as he knelt at his Mommy’s feet.
“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Melissa said, talking over Emily’s head and addressing Dr. Thurman, who was shutting the nursery door behind her as she entered.
“The prescription I gave you takes a good long while to build up in your system and finally kick in. But you’ve been terrific about taking your pills, and so now here we are.”
Melissa laughed nervously. “I think I’m a little nervous. It’s been awhile . . . ”
Now Dr. Thurman laughed. “I’m sure it has, but I think you’ll find it’s like riding a bike. You never really forget. You’ll remember what to do, and so will she.”
“Come here, baby girl,” Melissa said, settling herself down onto the loveseat in the nursery. “Come to Mommy.”
Weary with both shock and hunger, Emily was totally confused as he crawled to the loveseat. But as Melissa helped him up onto it and laid him back across her lap, his mind began to race. He was used to lying in this position with Nurse Linda, but they couldn’t seriously mean to . .
“No, Mommy!” he whimpered, his pacifier falling out of his mouth.
“Hush,” Melissa said with a forcefulness he’d never seen from her before.
“‘No’ is not in your vocabulary anymore, little girl.”
Panicked over what was about to happen, Emily continued to shake his head no.
“Yes, baby,” Melissa said, sliding one shoulder of her top down off of her elbow. “You are a baby now. A baby. And it’s Mommy’s job to take care of you. And when Mommy’s baby needs num num, Mommy needs to feed her baby.” Melissa’s bra was white, with lace trim. She fiddled with it for a second before opening a flap on the front of the cup and revealing her huge pink areola and fat nipple.
Emily blushed crimson and squirmed in Melissa’s lap. When he’d nursed at A Caring Place, that had been humiliating -- a babyish thing he didn’t want anyone to know about -- but he’d also been attracted to Nurse Linda and there was a certain kind of pleasure in being near to her and pampered by her. Sure, because of the coc-kcage he wore, he could never consummate that pleasure, but its existence did lessen the overall humiliation. But this? Here? With his Mommy?
“Don’t let her hesitance deter you,” Dr. Thurman said, standing near and looking down on both Mommy and baby girl. “You’re in control here, and there’s nothing even the least bit unnatural or perverted about this. It’s simply a Mommy giving her baby girl the breastfeeding she needs.”
“And baby doesn’t control when feedings happen,” Melissa said, mashing her swollen nipple against Emily’s lips. “Baby doesn’t control anything. Mommy does. And Mommy says its time for her sweet girl to nurse.”
Instinct overcame shame as Emily’s lips opened and his Mommy’s big, pink teat slid into his mouth. It was big, at least as big as Nurse Linda’s, and warm as his tongue swirled around it. Melissa was so full of milk that it began leaking into Emily’s mouth even before he’d gotten properly latched on. She let out a huge sigh of contentment as her milk began to flow, and her happy tears rained down on Emily as she nursed. With her free hand, Melissa wiped her tears away, rubbing them into Emily’s smooth skin. She looked up, made eye contact with Dr. Thurman and smiled the deepest, most contented smile she’d ever smiled. There were no more doubts, only certainty. Dr. Thurman had known, all along, what was best for Melissa and her daughter, and now, Melissa was on board, utterly and completely. Emily was right where she was supposed to be, where she would be forever, and Emily herself rightfully had no say in the matter whatsoever.
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Very exciting. I look forward to hearing about the physical modifications to Emily in the next chapter!
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Very exciting. I look forward to hearing about the physical modifications to Emily in the next chapter!
Sadly, I don't think we have much planned as far as physically modifying Emily goes...yet! Without spoilers, we are going to delve into some pretty intense regression though, so who knows what might happen. Hope that's not too dissapointing.
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Great story, cant wait for more!
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starting to get intense
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I would also love to see some physical or chemical modifications done down the line.
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Poor emily still naked except for her diaper. At least her mom is way more warm than that awful highchair. She really needs some baby appropriate baby girl clothes. Just wearing underwear alone if a very guy thing to do. Emily needs some adorable frilly warm baby clothing. Warm frilly baby bonnerts, diaper covers, tights, matching frilly short baby dresses, matching baby booties, lockable baby mittens and a secure playpen for her to play in full of soft made for newborns dollies with rattles inside. :)
Not really sure Sofia the First and sesame Street are good choices as those are big kids who have already potty trained and are full of kids being taught to do stuff are for growing older kids. The telletubbies would prolly be a better bet because it is mostly babies playing. Minimal learning goes on in them :)
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Let your Muse continue to guide this unfolding… she has been right every step of Emily’s journey.
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Sadly, I don't think we have much planned as far as physically modifying Emily goes...yet! Without spoilers, we are going to delve into some pretty intense regression though, so who knows what might happen. Hope that's not too dissapointing.
That's OK, the build up is just so intense, my mind and body is high on expectation! Every chapter is a gift, I'm so grateful for your time and effort bringing these fantasies to life!
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Thank you so much everybody for the kind words. I'm very glad this story seems to be resonating with so many people. You are all so amazing!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: RE-LEARNING BABYHOOD
A couple of hours later, Emily found himself sitting on the floor of a brand new playpen, which had been set up in the living room. Initially, it was set up by the redecorating crew from A Caring Place, but had been obscured by blankets in the corner of the room before Emily arrived home that morning so as not to ruin the surprise. Dr Thurman left shortly after Emily’s breastfeeding, and since then things had been relatively mundane around the Harper household. Well . . . as mundane as you could describe the image of a feminized, diapered sissy strapped to the rails of an oversized play-pen, as episode after episode of baby programs played on the TV opposite him.
Emily was still in shock that his own mother, who rarely ever raised a finger at him, now seemed perfectly fine with going so far as to physically restrain him inside of this big, new, wooden prison. Melissa had good reason not to trust Emily to stay put, that much was true, but to see the matriarch of the Harper household, who was usually so tender and loving, willing to use such extreme measures against her own child, made Emily even more scared about what his future might hold.
“How are you doing, baby? Still dry?” Emily heard Melissa ask from behind him. He was unable to turn his head to look at his mother, but he felt Melissa loom over him as she leaned over the side rail and stuck a hand down to check Emily’s diaper. “Still nothing, huh? I guess you just haven’t had enough to drink, have you, princess? That’s okay, mommy will heat you up a bottle.”
As Emily listened to Melissa walk away, a single tear slid down his face. He wanted to scream so badly, to get up, to rip off his diaper, and to run far away from here, but he was incapable of doing any of those things. In fact, in his current position, he wasn’t capable of doing much of anything other than reaching for the pink stuffed bunny or rattle that Melissa had placed beside him to keep him entertained.
It was the frequent diaper checks that were scaring Emily the most, however. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that not only was he in diapers now, but his Mommy actually expected him to use them! Melissa seemed downright excited for him to do so. Still, Emily resolved to hold off for as long as he could. True, he had already wet himself two times today, but those were mistakes. The idea of being fully aware that he was about to piss himself, and then forcing himself to go through with the act, however, was pretty much unthinkable.
Melissa returned with a baby bottle of milk and handed it to Emily. “There you go sweetums,” she beamed to him cheerfully, “You just drink your milkies now and enjoy your cartoons like a good baby, okay?”
Emily stared up at her mommy and didn’t know how to respond. Melissa just giggled and reached down to remove Emily’s pacifier. She quickly replaced it with the bottle she’d brought, and Emily looked away as he began suc-king on it. The taste of the milk reminded Emily of the milk he’d drank from Melissa’s breasts earlier which made him think that Melissa must have been saving bottles of breastmilk for him well in advance. He really didn’t want to drink it, but Melissa was still standing there watching with a look like she expected Emily to drink it all, so he continued to suc-k down its contents against his better judgement.
“Good princess!” Melissa complimented her with a smile.
Melissa’s motherly gaze felt omnipresent as Emily drank every last drop of breastmilk under her watchful eye. The look on Melissa’s face was so sweet and content, like she had finally been given everything she ever dreamed of. She savored the moment by reaching for her phone and snapping a quick picture of her sissfied daughter.
“Mommy, no!” Emily yelled out in horror, sputtering around the teat of the bottle.
Melissa gave her a look of mock concern and patted her on the head. “It’s alright baby, Mommy just thought you looked cute, that’s all. See?”
She turned the camera around to show Emily a picture of himself shyly suc-king on his bottle in the playpen, looking extremely demure and coy as he did so. Emily blushed bright pink.
“Besides,” Melissa added, “What’s the fun of being a Mommy if I can’t show off how cute my baby girl is?”
“But . . . but . . .” Emily began to stammer, but he was cut off when Melissa aggressively raised a finger at him.
“Hush,” Melissa scolded, “I don’t want to hear any more complaints from you. You’ve always been a baby girl, and now we’re finally just treating you like you need to be treated. And this is your life now, baby. The rest of your life. You’ll always be Mommy’s baby girl. Did you really think people weren’t going to find out eventually? It’s better to just rip the Band-Aid off now and be done with it.”
Emily’s stomach twisted in knots. If he could, he would have leapt up at that very second and snatched the phone out of his mother’s hand, but the restraints made that impossible. There was nothing he could do to stop his mother from exposing him to anyone she desired.
“Besides,” Melissa added, “We need to doc-ument your transformation as much as possible for the program, honey. Dr. Thurman has helped so many little boys and little girls ease their anxiety with regular breastfeeding and a little regression, but most of those patients get better and grow up and move on in life. You’re the very first patient ever to be enrolled in A Caring Place’s intensive regression program, and as part of my deal with Dr Thurman, I agreed to take as many pictures and videos of my sweet little girl as possible, so they can show you off to other prospective clients. This isn’t even the first picture I’ve taken of you, by the way. In your nursery, there’s a bunch of cameras set up which take pictures and record video periodically, whenever they sense motion, so there’s probably already at least a dozen pictures of you being spanked and diapered deep inside A Caring Place’s memory bank by now.”
Emily’s jaw dropped at this revelation. Somewhere, miles away from here, some random intern was probably sifting through footage of his embarrassing ordeal and laughing. How could he know this footage wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands eventually? Fresh tears began to coat Emily’s face, and he thrashed uselessly against his restraints.
Melissa shook her head in disappointment. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no need to be a brat about it,” she chided Emily as she pulled the bottle away and replaced his pacifier. “The shame will go away eventually, you’ll see. Soon you won’t even think about the fact that everyone knows you’re a baby. It’ll just be a part of your everyday life.”
As Melissa left to wash the bottle in the kitchen, Emily kept crying as he thought long and hard about what his Mommy had just said. The idea that Emily would ever accept any of what was happening right now as “normal” or “natural” was a completely absurd notion. Even an actual baby would know that Emily was too big to be treated this way. There had to be a way out of this, he was sure of it. No matter what, he would find a way to assert himself and prevent his mommy from turning her into her own personal little baby doll.
And yet, what could he do to stop it? Nothing at the moment came to mind. He was strapped firmly to his play-pen, and his mother had gained the legal rights to do all of this to him. How any of this could be legal in the first place, Emily had no idea. Dr Thurman’s lawyers must have used some sort of black magic to get any judge to approve of this.
Not knowing what else to do, Emily hung his head down in shame and suc-ked his pacifier. It hadn’t even been two hours since he was first diapered, and being a baby was already more boring than he could possibly imagine. He tried to pay attention to the bright, aggressively infantile cartoon his mother had put on for him, but there was nothing about it that could hold his interest. There was no plot or well defined characters to speak of, just childish song after childish song about the most simplistic topics, such as looking twice before you cross the road, or how to brush your teeth. Emily would have given an arm and a leg to be able to watch cartoons for a slightly older audience. Those were the same cartoons he had recently shunned as being “too young” for him mere weeks ago, but it seemed Melissa considered even those to be too mature for him now.
Some countless number of episodes later, Emily began to feel a stirring in his belly. It was getting later now, and he usually went #2 about this time of day. The fact that he was beginning to feel the need to go worried him a great deal, since he understood the diaper he was wearing was not just for show. Despite knowing that he’d eventually have to relieve himself, Emily’s pride still made him want to hold off for as long as possible. Maybe at some point he’d get the chance to sneak off and do the deed when his mommy wasn’t looking, after he was released from the confines of his playpen. It was a stretch, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
The situation soon grew worse for Emily once Melissa eventually came strolling back into the living room. “Still enjoying your cartoons, little one?,” she greeted Emily cheerfully, despite the fact that Emily clearly looked miserable.
Melissa walked behind him and began to undo the restraints. Emily’s face perked up. If there was ever a chance to make a mad dash for it and escape this crazy woman, the time was obviously now. Melissa grabbed his arm and began helping him up, using her other hand to unlock the side of the adult-sized playpen and swing the entrance open. It was now or never, if he was going to escape, he would need to move quickly and utilize the element of surprise.
But . . . he didn’t.
The more Emily thought about it, the more it seemed like a stupid plan. Where would he even go dressed only in a diaper? What if the authorities just brought him back? Instead, he obediently let Melissa lead him over to the couch, where he plopped himself submissively into his mother’s lap, losing what seemed like his best opportunity to assert her independence and leave.
“C’mon baby-butt, mommy wants to spend some time with you,” Melissa began to coo in demeaning baby talk. She further adjusted Emily so he was level with her chest, and started pulling up her own shirt, removing a large, matronly breast from her lacy bra. “I’ll bet you’re a hungry widdle baby, aren’t you?”
Even though Emily had already done this once today, he shuddered upon realizing what was coming next. “A . . . again mommy?” he asked Melissa childishly, who just giggled and booped his nose.
“Of course, sweetheart! The guidebook Dr Thurman gave me said I should feed you at least once every three hours, and breastfeed you at least twice a day! Now open up!”
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She shoved the back of Emily’s head towards her massive bosom, and instantly the little sissy began suc-kling. As she gazed down at the poor, fragile, dependent creature in her arms, Melissa felt like all of her dreams had come true.
“Be honest. Do you feel like a baby yet, Emily?” she cooed to the suc-kling sissy, who nodded passively while a single tear rolled down his face. Melissa knew that she should have felt bad for her daughter when she felt the warm, wet tear finally come into contact with the bare skin of her plump bosom, but everything about this situation was just too beautiful. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to see Emily cry. She wanted to see him as weak and vulnerable as possible, to hold her daughter posessively, and to never, ever let go again. “Well good,” Melissa chuckled. “That’s the idea, princess.”
Just then, she heard a low rumbling sound escape from Emily’s stomach. Emily started shuffling uncomfortably in her arms, trying to ease some of the uncomfortable feeling coming from his guts. However, he soon found it hard to focus on both that, and suc-kling from his mommy at the same time. Pulling his mouth away from his Mommy’s fat nipple, Emily turned so that he was on his back, looking up at her. That’s when another round of cramps hit him. His mind reeled; this simply could not be happening. Yes, he knew what diapers are for. Yes, he’d heard what Dr. Thurman said about using his. But it just hadn’t seemed real. It hadn’t seemed possible! But now, lying across his Mommy’s lap, his stomach bloating and churning, he was beginning to panic!
“Mommy!” he said, taking advantage of having neither a pacifier nor a nipple in his mouth. “I -- I have to -- ”
“To what, sugarbear?” Melissa said, smiling coyly even though she knew perfectly well what her daughter was worried about. Emily quickly turned her head away from his mother, too embarrassed to answer her. Unfortunately, he was helpless to avoid revealing his hand when another nasty cramp caused him to writhe in place on Melissa’s lap. Melissa watched him enthusiastically and chuckled. “Oh, that’s what it is . . . isn’t it sweetums? Does my little one need to make poopy pants?”
“Mommy, you can’t do this!” Emily blurted. Panic was pushing him to be braver, to be more assertive than he usually would be. “You can’t make me -- not in a diaper! Please? Please? I’ll be good, Mommy. I’ll be so good. I -- I’ll be a girl, Mommy. I’ll be a good little girl, the best little girl, please just don’t make me --”
“Calm down, Emily. All babies use their diapers, and that’s what you are now, so you may as well just get used to it.”
“Mommy!” Emily whined, another wave of cramps hitting him. “Please . . . please just don’t make me crap into a diaper! Please!”
“Hmmmm,” Melissa said contemplatively. “It sounds like maybe you don’t want to be Mommy’s little baby girl. Is that what Mommy’s hearing, princess? Did you want to talk about maybe going back to the way things were?”
Emily’s eyes were watering now with the need to go. But his heart was also surging. With Dr. Thurman out of the house, it seemed he was getting through to his Mommy. Was it possible he could get her to reconsider?
“Let’s get you re-positioned, baby,” Melissa said. “If my sweet Emily wants to talk about being a big boy again, well, we’d better talk face-to-face.” She sat him up and positioned him so that he was kneeling, straddling her legs and facing her, looking into her eyes. Her hands ran up and down his sides, caressing him as their noses brushed together.
As she took in the sight of Emily struggling, she secretly couldn’t be happier with the way things were turning out. The contents of the bottle she fed him earlier were certainly doing their job well, and she knew his fight against the inevitable would ultimately be pointless. Really, at this point it was stupid for Emily to fight against her. By now Melissa held all the cards, and she knew it. And she knew that the only way Emily would ever learn his lesson was if she really drove the point home.
“So,” Melissa began in a calm and collected voice, “Why do you think Mommy should consider you a big boy? Hmm? In what ways do you think you’re more adult than I’ve been giving you credit for?”
“I . . . I . . . ” Emily struggled to respond, still fighting off the urge to mess himself. “Because . . . nnngg . . . I’m a fifteen year old boy! This is all absurd!”
“Not according to the state, you’re not,” Melissa replied matter-of-factly.
“C’mon, kiddo, you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to convince me. In what ways have you been acting grown-up lately?”
“Alright, fine! Just let me think!” Emily spat out in frustration.
Emily tried thinking of a response, but nothing convincing was springing to mind. It was such an unfair question, too. It was true that Emily was slightly more immature than the other boys his age, yes, but it was also true that Melissa had not given him any opportunities to grow and develop along with his peers. He still had an early bedtime. She rarely allowed him to leave the house unless he was hanging out at Lauren’s. And that’s not even beginning to mention the increasingly infantile regimen she’d been forcing onto him for the past few months, before it all came to a head earlier that morning. The longer he took to think of a response, and the stronger the cramping in his stomach seemed to be getting, the more Melissa’s expression seemed to grow more smug.
“Well, I’m waiting,” Melissa teased impatiently as Emily’s ability to reason with her slipped further and further away. Almost as a teasing gesture, she began to gently bounce her knee up and down, jostling the contents of Emily’s stomach even further and distracting him by making him feel even more weak and babyish.
By now, tears had returned to Emily’s eyes. “Please, just . . . don’t do this! I’ll act more mature I swear!” He begged with frustrated intensity.
However, all of his fighting would soon prove to be pointless.
It happened so fast. His stomach was hit by a sudden cramp that was so strong that it forced his bowels open, sending a wave of poopy mess directly into the seat of his diaper. He winced as he felt the warm mush fill out and expand against his bottom, a feeling that caught Emily completely off guard. The shock of it was almost unbelievable. Emily immediately gave up any pretense of trying to be a big boy, and instantly threw himself forward into Melissa’s embrace.
“Noooo!!!” Emily sobbed in defeat. “Why? Why did you make me do that, Mommy?”
“Oh no! Did someone finally make an uh-oh?” Melissa teased in a mock-understanding croon as she reached forward and patted his bottom playfully. Gently, she resumed bouncing her knee up and down beneath him. “You’ve been making uh-ohs a lot lately, haven’t you? Not just uh-ohs in your pants, but also uh-ohs in school, uh-ohs with trying to be a big boy, uh-ohs with trying to assert yourself around Lauren and her friends . . . My baby girl can’t really do anything without Mommy, can she?”
Emily cried steadily in Melissa’s arms. He’d been so conditioned by now to physically rely on his mommy for comfort, that as much as he currently hated her, he also felt an intense need to be loved by her at the moment.
“M . . . Mama . . . ” Emily cried.
“Shhhh . . . ” Melissa silenced him, lifting a gentle finger to his lips. “It’s okay baby . . . We’re just finally treating you the way you’ve always needed to be treated . . . ”
Her voice sounded like warm butter as Emily felt himself melt into his mother’s arms. She began tenderly lowering his trembling body, until his face was once again level with her breasts. Melissa then pushed her wet nipple right back into his mouth, nonchalantly pressing her shapely bosoms up against his face.
“I mean, you’ve already broken one of your few, simple rules. Baby Emily isn’t supposed to use big kid words anymore, remember? I think somebody wants to be punished again . . . ”
Emily muffled incoherently. Melissa just gave him a playful giggle and patted him on the head with her free arm. By now Emily was like clay in her hands, too scared of the possibility of another spanking to try fighting her. Melissa seemed eerily calm and controlled as she played with Emily’s hair and continued talking to him as he nursed.
“Don’t worry, sweetums, I won’t spank you this time. Mommy knew things wouldn’t sink in right away. It’ll take a while until you start naturally falling into your new role as my helpless, adorable baby girl. Mommy only has so much patience though, honey. If you keep slipping up and talking like that, I will punish you for it in the future. Thankfully, me and Dr Thurman went through the liberty of signing you up for all sorts of wonderful programs that will teach you how to behave more like the baby girl you really are, so in the future, acting your age will come much more naturally to you.”
As Emily continued to suc-kle warm milk from Melissa’s breasts, he couldn’t get over how humiliated he felt. The squishy feeling of the mess in his diaper, as well as it’s pungent smell, was making Emily feel lower than he’d ever felt in his life, an impressive achievement, considering everything else that had happened to him in the last couple of months. Breastfeeding had become so normal to him by now that up until this moment, he barely even thought that much about it. Now that he was feeding from his own mother in a full diaper, however, rhythmically suc-kling from her large pink nipple as she talked about how babyish she expected him to act; it was finally sinking in just how infantile and degrading the whole experience was. He didn’t know how he could contradict her either, taking her not so subtle hint that she didn’t want to hear any more backtalk. Instead he just continued to suc-kle and sulk, feeling like a true one year old as his babyish mess squished around inside his diaper with every subtle movement.
“Being a baby isn’t very hard, Emily. I’m sure you’ll get used to it in no time. And Mommy will be there every step of the way to make sure you feel safe, and loved, and protected. All you really have to do is recognize that you don’t ever get to make choices for yourself anymore. Isn’t that great? Making decisions was always so stressful for you, and to be honest, you were never really good at it anyway. Now you don’t have to worry about anything at all! Mommy will take care of everything you need! You don’t have to feed yourself, or clean yourself, or worry about making it to the toilet. Instead, all you have to do is sit back, relax, and be the most adorable little baby you can be. Sounds like a pretty great deal when I put it that way, doesn’t it?”
Emily remained silent. The most worrying part was how genuine Melissa sounded when she spoke. This was not just a punishment, or a way to humiliate him. She seemed genuinely convinced that he was incapable of making any decisions for himself, and was acting like she was doing him a giant favor by treating him this way.
Melissa let him suc-kle for a few more minutes. When it was finally over, there was so much Emily wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just laid there submissively as his mommy reached down and cheerfully re-inserted his pacifier, pulling him up to give him a loving kiss on the cheek.
“It’s so nice, getting to feed you like this again,” Melissa gently crooned. “It really reminds me how much I missed having a little one to look after. After what happened to your father, my biggest fear was that you would grow up and abandon me, leaving me all by myself. Now, I never need to worry about that again! My little one will never leave her mother’s side. You’ll be my sweet baby girl forever and ever!”
Melissa tickled Emily and smothered his face in a barrage of sloppy kisses, which Emily responded to with an uncontrollable, infectious giggle. His frown returned, however, once Melissa sat him up and began guiding him to his feet, before asking him to turn around so she could inspect his diaper.
Emily did as he was told, wincing while he felt the bulk of his accident begin to sag once he lifted his body from the couch. Melissa giggled playfully to herself, immediately noticing how much more pungent the smell was now that Emily was standing in front of her.
“My my! You really did have to go poopy, didn’t you Emily?” She teased as she reached down and began lovingly patting the seat of his diaper. “It doesn’t get any more babyish than that, does it, stinky? Yuck! Somebody needs a diaper change.”
Melissa stretched before suddenly lifting herself up off the couch. If anything, Emily was at least relieved that he could at least expect a quick diaper change from her, and tried to ignore how degraded he felt having just committed such an embarrassing act in his mommy’s presence. He was surprised, however, when instead of being led off to the nursery for a change as he had hoped, Melissa instead patted his head and began applying downward pressure to his shoulders.
“Down we go, baby,” Melissa commanded, causing Emily to buckle his knees as he reluctantly lowered himself onto the floor. When he was finally kneeling before Melissa on all fours like his mommy wanted, he felt about as small as he possibly could, forced to stare up at her imposing figure towering above him.
“I think you need a bit more time alone in your playpen before I change you into a new diaper,” Melissa continued. “Babies don’t always get changed right away, and from now on, neither will you. I think that’s going to be an important lesson to learn since you’re going to spend the rest of your life like this. Now go on! Be a good little girl and crawl back to your playpen, sweetie. Once your cartoons are done, Mommy will change you, but for now I want you to get used to the feeling of sitting in your poopy diapers, just like a baby!”
Salty tears began to flow down Emily’s face. He made his way back to the playpen on his hands and knees, looking truly emasculated as his pacifier bobbed rhythmically in and out of his mouth while he did so. The embarrassing stench from his diaper was also wafting out in every direction, which was made even more shameful by the added bulk that Emily could still feel sticking to his bottom, and shifting with his every movement. Melissa joined him beside the playpen and unlocked the gate, opening it up while Emily crawled inside. She closed the gate and gave him a face of playful innocence, before fixing the straps of his restraints around his torso and picking up the remote to unpause the childish program he had been watching before his feeding. Emily wanted to scream at her, but he was too mentally exhausted. He lowered his head and sighed.
“Good girl,” Melissa praised the sissy warmly. “Now you just sit there and think about how it feels to really be a baby until Mommy comes back. Got it?”
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Amazing!
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Poor cold nearly naked baby girl trapped in his playpen . Pretty sure it is November in the story. Unless they live in like Australia in southern hemisphere. Mommy really should tell sissy to play with her baby rattles while she is watching her cartoons as they should be far more interesting for a baby. :)
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Loving this tale of misery and regression!
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -- ESTABLISHING NEW ROUTINES
Emily stared at the floor of his playpen and nodded. Melissa praised him for being a good baby, and once again left to resume her tasks in the other room. Emily was now sitting alone, restrained in his playpen, with only the television and a few pathetic baby toys he didn’t feel like playing with to entertain him. He felt just as bored and silly and low as he had when he was here earlier, and now he also had a dirty diaper taped to his waist as a constant reminder of just how far he’d fallen in a single day. The babyish TV program now seemed to be openly mocking him as well. A cheerful, repetitive song about learning how to use the potty for the first time was now playing on the television. He looked on in utter shame as the bright, jubilant screen displayed a cartoon toddler being sat on a plastic toilet and praised by his mother for using it successfully, followed by another scene of the same character clutching his belly and failing to make it to the bathroom in time, which the boy’s mother promptly scolded him for. All the while, an annoyingly repetitive song about learning to use the potty bounced up and down from the speakers like nails on a proverbial chalkboard against Emily’s ears. To Emily, it seemed that even these programs for actual infants expected more from their audience than his mommy now expected from him.
Once the program ended, Melissa came waltzing back into the living room with a look of tender love in her eyes. “Ready for your change now, poopy-pants?” She called out to Emily teasingly.
By now, Emily was done crying, but he was still feeling miserable about what she’d forced him to do. After sitting there unresponsive for a few seconds, he eventually gave her a sad, submissive nod. Melissa paid no mind to Emily’s misery, instead she simply walked over to Emily and undid the restraints holding him against his playpen. She then opened the gate and ruffled his hair playfully.
“Alright Emily, go ahead and crawl up to your nursery. Mommy will help get you into some nice, clean Pampers now.”
Emily began to crawl on his hands and knees out of the playpen, heading across the living room in the direction of the stairs. Melissa followed closely behind, giggling to herself while she watched his big padded bottom sway in front of her from side to side. Unbeknownst to Emily, she found herself unable to resist the opportunity to reach for her phone and snap yet another picture of her diapered sissy daughter. So cute. The girls are going to love this one, she thought to herself.
By now, Emily was a bit more used to the feeling of being in a messy diaper, but the weight of all his mess sagging behind him still felt extremely odd, especially when he began attempting to climb up the stairs. Melissa noticed how much slower he was moving and giggled.
“I’m not a bad mother for letting my baby crawl up the stairs all by herself, am I?,” she pondered aloud. “If only you were a bit lighter, Emily. Then Mommy would be able to carry you.”
Emily tried not to pay attention to his mommy’s light teasing, actively ignoring her and focusing only on getting changed out of his messy Pampers as soon as possible. He already felt like enough of a baby as it was, so the last thing he needed was her humiliating commentary on top of it. Within moments, they both arrived at the entrance to Emily’s nursery. Melissa graciously opened the door for Emily, since he was still too low on the ground to be able to work the doorknob. After leading him inside, Melissa immediately ordered Emily over to the changing table, which she helped Emily onto, before instructing her to lay back submissively onto the padded mattress.
As Melissa unpinned Emily’s loaded diaper, Emily cringed with another wave of shame. The smell the open diaper released was terrible, and Emily felt like a fool lying there on his back with his knees and feet in the air as his Mommy had him raise his bottom so that she could slide the diaper off of him. In addition to the horrid smell, Emily could feel how messy his rear-end was, caked as it was with the mess he’d been sitting in. He wanted to vanish, and since he couldn’t do that, he simply turned his head to one side and shut his eyes, nursing heavily on his pacifier.
“Oooooh, someone made a BIG surprise for their Mommy,” Melissa said in a lightly mocking tone. As Melissa dumped the messy diaper into the diaper bin and sealed the bin shut, her words made Emily cringe, but it was hard to deny that the baby wipes Melissa was using to clean him up were a huge relief.
“Mommy’s girl is a sweet girl . . . ” Melissa sang. “Mommy’s gonna get her sweet girl all clean . . . ”. Her silly, almost-lullaby-like singing went on like that as she worked to clean Emily. The baby wipes were cool and wet, but mostly in a refreshing way. Emily’s eyes were still closed and full of tears, but as the clean-up continued, he felt his little weiner throb in its cage. If he somehow blocked out how absurd everything that was happening to him was, the physical sensations of it were not so bad: the refreshing wipes, Mommy’s soft touch all over his most intimate areas, the comfortable surface of the changing table, and his Mommy’s soft, soothing voice. The last almost two days had been unspeakably awful for Emily: he’d gone to Lauren’s party as a fifteen year old boy, then been reduced, in the eyes of his friends, to a young girl at the party, only to come home this morning and find that his status had been reduced even further. It was all so humiliating and scary, and a part of him relished just lying there, eyes closed, ears full of his Mommy’s comforting voice, body supported on the changing table, and brain able to not have to think about anything.
Suddenly, he snapped fully awake again, his eyes opening. Wasn’t that what they wanted? For him to give in? And if he did, what would be left of him?
“Easy, baby girl,” Melissa said, pushing Emily’s torso back down onto the changing mat. Mommy’s not quite done.”
Soon enough, Melissa had Emily cleaned, powdered, and pinned into a very thick disposable diaper. “Baby needs to get used to her new schedule,” Melissa cooed. “Change then dinner then bath then bedtime.”
Bedtime? Emily wondered. It’s not even 4 PM. What is she talking about bedtime for?
“Now,” Melissa said, “since the diaper I just changed you out of was your very first baby diaper that Mommy ever put you in since we started treating you right, well, Mommy and Dr. Thurman wanted to make sure you had time to focus on just that diaper and nothing else, honeybear. But now? Well, Mommy hasn’t spent the last few months buying her baby girl that most precious wardrobe in the whole world for nothing has she? So let’s get my Emily girl alllllllll dressed up.”
Still lulled by the rhythmic touching and the sweet singing of his diaper change–in addition to being exhausted by the last two days–Emily did nothing to resist as his mommy cooed and fussed over getting him dressed for dinner. A pair of lavender, nursery-print plastic pants were stretched over his huge diaper since, as Melissa explained, “if Mommy’s baby girl is going to be making such big surprises for Mommy, then Mommy better take some steps to protect baby’s clothes and Mommy’s house and its furniture!”
Next was a pair of lacy white ankle socks, with lavender trim on the lace. Then Melissa had Emily sit up on the changing table so that she could put a beautiful white satin toddler dress over her head. It had short sleeves and a short skirt and lavender trim and the whole thing seemed to be a fountain of frills and lace. As Emily sat there passively, being moved around like a big doll by his Mommy, he thought of all the times he’d begged and pleaded with Melissa for big presents for Christmas or his birthday: a set of Transformers toys that combined into one big robot, a track to race Hot Wheels cars on, the latest model Playstation. He’d wanted them all, begged and whined and pleased with her for them, and she’d always said they didn’t have the money. As this confection of a baby dress fell over his head, and as he looked into the nursery closet to see tons of other dresses and rompers and onesies waiting for him, it wasn’t lost on Emily that all of this had to have been expensive. As the toddler dress’s short skirt fell into place and made it obvious that his diapers and plastic pants would still be on display even if he were allowed to stand up (which he wouldn’t be), Emily realized that his Mommy had spent a ton of money on all of this. He didn’t want any of the things she’d spent money on, and all of those things embarrassed him, but on some level, it was nice to be fawned over and spoiled, even if it wasn’t in the way he’d imagined or wanted.
The finishing touches were a lavender barrette in Emily’s hair and a pair of white Keds sneakers with lavender ribbons in place of shoelaces on his feet. As Melissa helped Emily off of the changing table and made sure that she knelt on the floor, he wondered dully why he’d been given shoes at all.
“Look at you, Miss Priss!” Melissa swooned, again taking her phone out and snapping tons of pictures. “Who says the life of a baby is boring? Every afternoon Mommy will bring you into your nursery and help you get alllllllll dressed up in a different beautiful outfit and then you’ll get to sashay your prissy self right down to the kitchen for dinner! Won’t that be fun? Why Mommy bets you’re going to be the most fashionable girl on the block soon! Well, the most fashionable toddler girl anyways!”
With that, Melissa directed Emily to crawl out of his nursery and back downstairs to the kitchen. He still felt so absurdly stupid, crawling on the floor as though he couldn’t walk. And the huge thickness of the diapers and plastic panties between his legs made him have to crawl with an especially silly-looking wide gait.
In the kitchen, once he finally got there, his high chair awaited. As Melissa strapped him into it and buckled all of its restraints down, Emily reflected glumly: It’s my highchair. Mine. I have a highchair now. And a nursery. This is really happening. It still didn’t seem real. He still couldn’t process the enormity of all the rules Dr. Thurman had laid out for him the last time he was in this chair.
Once he was strapped in, Melissa retrieved a bottle of breastmilk from the fridge, warmed it up, and held it in place for Emily–whose hands were pinned beneath the high chair tray–so that he could nurse it. “Mommy is really proud of you for not talking during your diaper change, sweetheart,” Melissa said, looking down as Emily drank her bottle. “Mommy knows all this is new and hard, but Mommy’s also betting that her baby girl was too embarrassed to even know what to say while Mommy was changing her.”
Emily, with the teat of the bottle still firmly planted in his mouth, nodded yes.
“Mommy doesn’t want you to be embarrassed,” Melissa said with a sympathetic face. “Because you’re a baby girl, and so there’s nothing embarrassing at all about you being treated like a baby girl. Your embarrassment comes from your clining to what Dr. Thurman calls your false sense of self, baby. Basically, you still see yourself as a fifteen year old boy. But that’s not what you are, and Mommy and Dr. Thurman and all the nice women at A Caring Place are going to help you see that, honey. We’re going to help you feel it, deep deep down. But first we’ve got to break and scrub away that rotten false ego of yours. Just give in, baby girl. Just know that all you have to do, ever, for the rest of your life, is not think and just do what Mommy says. Then you won’t be embarrassed at all. Won’t that be great?”
Emily shivered. What his mommy was saying to him was terrifying. If he wasn’t embarrassed about being a fifteen year old in a highchair, breastfeeding, pooping in a diaper . . . well, if he wasn’t embarrassed about those things, he’d have to be so far gone, mentally, that there wasn’t anything left of him.
When Emily’s bottle was finished and Melissa replaced his pacifier, he expected to be fed some solid food. So he was excited when Melissa stepped away from the high chair and began making dinner. She started making a homemade red pasta sauce Emily loved, and after the hard days he’d had, it was a joy for Emily to sit in his highchair and smell the lovely smells of garlic and olive oil and tomatoes as she made up a pot of that sauce. Emily had had nothing to breastmilk to eat all day, and so a pasta dinner sounded delicious to him.
That’s why he was dismayed when Melissa, after finishing the sauce and making some spaghetti, only prepared one plate, not two. She then sat down at the kitchen table and ate the pasta herself, ignoring Emily’s moaning and wailing behind her pacifier as she (Melissa) read her phone, drank a glass of wine, and enjoyed her meal.
Emily, getting more and more frustrated, began kicking his legs. Given that the highchair set him up so high that his feet did not touch the ground, this didn’t accomplish anything except getting Melissa’s attention.
“Stop,” she said, turning in her seat and pointing a finger at him. “Mommy can feel you about to spit your pacifier out and complain, and if Emily doesn’t want her baby bottom blistered, she better stop right now. Mommy knows you wanted some spaghetti. But you’re a baby now, Emily. A baby. And babies don’t eat spaghetti. Babies eat baby food. You’ll never eat spaghetti–or any other kind of adult food–again as long as you live, and you better get used to that fact right now. Let me say that again, in case you missed it: you will never, ever, eat adult food again. Never. Not as long as you live. Mommy’s breastmilk and the baby food Mommy gets from A Caring Place have all the vitamins and nutrients Mommy’s little baby girl will ever need.”
Emily, unable to comprehend the enormity of what her Mommy had just said, began to weep quietly in her highchair.
And, about 20 minutes later, after Melissa had finished her own meal and cleaned the dishes, baby food is exactly what Emily ate. Melissa produced several jars of it from the refrigerator and dumped them all together on the highchair tray, forming a vivid pile of glop. Then, around Emily’s neck, she attached a lavender and white baby’s bib that read “Momma’s Messy Eater” in a baby blocks script. Only then did she remove Emily’s pacifier, warning her not to talk, and began to spoonfeed her daughter.
The whole ordeal was humiliating for Emily: to smell and see food she loved only feet away from her, to be denied that food, to have to sit with nothing to do and nothing to watch while her Mommy took care of herself, to have the only bodily control available to her be opening and closing her mouth, to have her Mommy baby-talking syrupy babble at her, to have to choke down the rancid puree of the baby food, to struggle to keep up with Melissa’s feverous rate of feeding. It soon became totally overwhelming: Emily, her face and bib covered in the distisgusting glop soon began to cry harder. Her crying escalated quickly. Soon, full body sobs racked her, making it impossible to keep up with Melissa’s spoon-feeding. And then the floodgates opened, not just in her eyes, but all over her body. As Emily wailed, she flooded her diaper. Melissa, with a mother’s intuition, reached under the highchair, pressing her hand lovingly against the fat, plastic-covered diaper bulge between Emily’s legs.
“That’s it,” Melissa cooed. “That’s Mommy’s baby girl. What a good girl you are. Now, let’s go get you changed and then it’ll be baby’s first bathtime!”
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Just loving it!
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“Stop,” she said, turning in her seat and pointing a finger at him. “Mommy can feel you about to spit your pacifier out and complain, and if Emily doesn’t want her baby bottom blistered, she better stop right now. Mommy knows you wanted some spaghetti. But you’re a baby now, Emily. A baby. And babies don’t eat spaghetti. Babies eat baby food. You’ll never eat spaghetti–or any other kind of adult food–again as long as you live, and you better get used to that fact right now. Let me say that again, in case you missed it: you will never, ever, eat adult food again. Never. Not as long as you live. Mommy’s breastmilk and the baby food Mommy gets from A Caring Place have all the vitamins and nutrients Mommy’s little baby girl will ever need.”
Emily, unable to comprehend the enormity of what her Mommy had just said, began to weep quietly in her highchair.
God this bit is pushing all my buttons.
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Yes it is thrilling stuff! I have an overwhelming feeling there is so much further to go for total and very permanent regression physically. Love this story!
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Thanks everyone! And you're totally right, lovellace. There is definitely still much further for Emily to go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: BABY’S FIRST BATHTIME
After all the shocks and changes that today had brought, Emily thought that he had exhausted his capacity for surprise. But the sight of his nursery’s newly remodeled bathroom somehow managed to push him past his blunted, devastated numbness. As he crawled into the room on all fours, behind his Mommy, his pacifier fell out of his mouth and he gasped.
“Isn’t it amazing, baby girl?” Melissa asked. “And it’s all for you! Since you’re in diapers now--and since you’ll be in them for the rest of your life--there’s really no need for you to have a traditional bathroom, now is there? I’d figured we’d gut the whole thing and knock down walls and add the space to your nursery, but Dr. Thurman has thought of everything, and she reminded me that my baby girl still needs a place to get sparkling clean, even if she doesn’t need a toilet.”
The toilet was indeed gone, totally and entirely. The floor was soft lavender tile with gleaming white grout, and the walls were white paneling to about standing waist-height and then matching pale lavender paint above. The bathtub and shower were gone too. In the middle of the room stood a raised platform, a bit like a kitchen island: its sides were also lavender tile (with several drawers built into it), and its top was white marble. It stood just below the height of his mother’s waist, and embedded in the white marble was what looked like a large, white, porcelain bowl. It was open at the top, and inside the bowl-shape was a chair back, reclined at an angle, as well as many straps and restraints. Emily could not make sense of it immediately.
“Come on, baby girl,” Melissa cooed, as she lead her crawling daughter near to a pair of lavender plastic little kids’ steps at the base of the raised platform. “It’s my precious baby girl’s first bath time in her brand new baby bath.”
Emily, numb with shock, stood up and struggled to process the fact that his mommy had had the toilet removed from his bathroom. Melissa sat on the small plastic steps and directed Emily to stand between her spread thighs. From there, she began undressing Emily: dress then shoes then socks then plastic panties all came off. Keeping one guiding hand on Emily’s upper thigh at all times, Melissa roughly folded the clothes and put them aside for later. Finally, with Emily still standing, she removed his wet diaper. Emily winced with embarrassment as he stood naked in front of his mother (save for his chastity cage and the matching lavender barrette in his hair). He couldn’t help but notice that his Mommy looked proud when she saw how soaked the diaper was before she tossed it into a nearby diaper pail. Then she rose and, explaining nothing, guided Emily up onto the small plastic steps while she held his hand. From there, using cloying babytalk and gentle but firm pressure with her hands, she guided Emily to get on all fours on top of the raised island. She then had Emily crawl into what had, from his view on the floor, looked like a bowl sticking out of the top of the island. As he crawled into it, he saw small drains in its base and realized it was some sort of a very short, very shallow bathtub. She positioned him so that he was face-up, with his back against the inclined chair back.
There’s no toilet, Emily thought as Melissa had him put his knees up and his feet flat on the ground, which was the only way his body fit inside the bowl-like basin. There’s no toilet, he thought. None. At all. She had it removed. That had to be expensive. And a strange request. And she did it anyway. She really did that. She really doesn’t imagine that I’m going to use a toilet . . . ever again.
As the enormity of that fact broke like a heavy wave over Emily’s mind, he sat limply, numb and not resisting as Melissa adjusted a series of straps and restraints: one thick one across his chest, then wrist straps that held his arms down, and then thigh and ankle straps that immobilized his legs. “Head back, baby girl,” Melissa cooed, making sure Emily’s head was flush against the headrest on the chair before she ran a strap across Emily’s forehead, securing his head in place. “All safe and secure. No risk Mommy’s baby girl is going to fall out of her bath now, is there?”
Emily felt a spike of panic rising in his chest. He was totally captive and totally immobile. The height of the island he was sitting on top of put him slightly higher than waist height on his Mommy, who could easily stand next to the island and reach down to him.
“Stop,” Melissa said, noticing Emily struggling against his restraints. “Just stop. Mommy knows this is strange. Mommy knows you don’t understand yet. Mommy knows her sweet baby girl wishes Mommy would explain what’s going on. But Mommy’s baby girl doesn’t need to know what’s going on because Mommy’s baby girl doesn’t need to think. Sssssshhh. You don’t need to know. You don’t deserve to have anything explained to you because you’re just a baby and all baby needs to know is that her Mommy loves her so much. So stop thinking. Stop trying to talk or complain or object. Just nurse your pacifier and know that Mommy knows best. Besides, sweetie, baby might really come to like some things about her bath.”
Melissa reached behind Emily and Emily heard knobs turning. She then startled a little within her restraints as she realized that the basin she was secured in had begun slowly filling up with warm water. It was filling from underneath as the drains she’d seen in the base of the basin were now bubbling up with a gentle flow of warm water. Before Emily could adjust to the water, she had another shock: her Mommy reached down the front of her top, pulling out a necklace chain that had been nestled down in her cleavage. At the end of this chain was a key, and much to Emily’s embarrassment and relief, Melissa used the key to unlock Emily’s chastity.
“There we go . . . ”, Melissa cooed as she slipped Emily’s cage off. “When Mommy’s baby girl is alllllllll nice and safe and restrained and when Mommy is here to supervise, well then Mommy’s baby girl can be out of her cage for bathtime. After all, what kind of a Mommy would Mommy be if Mommy let her sweet little snookykins not get totally clean during bathtime?”
Much to Emily’s dismay, his small pen-is erected immediately after it was freed from its chastity cage. Emily wasn’t turned on by his mother, and it was humiliating to be aching and throbbing and dripping in front of her, but his tiny weiner seemed to have a mind of its own. It was free from restraint so rarely anymore that, regardless of Emily’s feelings about the matter, it seemed determined to make the most of the brief freedom it was allotted.
Looking down at Emily and seeing a rope of pre-c-um drooling from his pen-is, Melissa frowned and sighed heavily. “Well, that’s not very ladylike, is it?” Not waiting for an answer from her still pacified daughter, Melissa turned the water jets off when the water level was just over Emily’s restrained ankles. “There we go,” she purred, getting a fluffy lavender washcloth and soaking it in the warm water before ringing it out over Emily’s bare chest. “Now, you just relax and enjoy your bath time, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to take care of everything.”
What could I take care of, Emily wondered, even if I wanted to? While the restraint running over his forehead was in no way painful, it was snug, and it prevented him from turning his head. The wrist, ankle, and chest straps were equally snug. He wasn’t going anywhere, and he couldn’t do anything except lay back against the back support and nurse his pacifier. He found the position he was in--back inclined, knees up, feet flat, legs spread so that all of his private parts were on open display--humiliating, but like everything else that had happened to him today, he had no say about it whatsoever. For the next many minutes, a near-silence set in as Melissa hummed a lullaby to herself while she worked: repeatedly wetting parts of Emily’s body down, then lathering those wet parts with gentle, no-tears soap. Reaching into the shallow well of water Emily was sitting in, Melissa re-soaked her washcloth and then rinsed her infant daughter clean. As Melissa worked, Emily’s mind wandered, recalling her Mommy’s recent words to her: Stop thinking. Stop trying to talk or complain or object. Just nurse your pacifier and know that Mommy knows best. Why would she want that? Don’t parents want their kids to grow up and be independent? Prior to meeting Dr. Thurman, it seemed like that was what Emily’s mommy had wanted for him. But now she was literally telling him to turn his brain off, to just accept everything that was happening to him without complaint. Why did she want that? And could he even do that? And if he did, what would the long term consequences be? Maybe, he thought as the warm water, the soft washcloth, and his Mommy’s caring hands lapped over him, maybe not all of this is so bad?
After Melissa finished washing Emily’s torso, arms, and legs, her cell phone rang. She stepped away from the island (where Emily was still securely immobilized in his baby bath) and answered the call. Emily couldn’t hear the caller’s words, but he heard enough of the tone of their voice to feel a cold wave of fear ripple through him.
“Oh, hi, Lauren!” Melissa squealed, her face breaking into a smile. “Oh, it’s been . . . just beyond. Truly, the best day of my whole life! No words, really! It’s a day both Emily and I will never forget, that’s for . . . What’s that? Oh! Those pageant costumes! Right! Well yes, now would be a perfect time for you to bring those over. Tell you what, I’m right in the middle of giving Emily her bath, so I’ll just unlock the front door remotely, with my phone, and you can just come on in and come upstairs and say hi. What’s that? Oh, I know, I can’t wait for you to see her new nursery either! It’s going to take your breath away! Okay, see you soon!”
Emily panicked. Although the bathroom and the water he was sitting in were both warm, an icy chill ran across him. The air on his exposed pen-is, testicles, and anus suddenly seemed to turn icy, highlighting the helpless, totally exposed position he was in. Lauren cannot see me like this, he thought. She can’t. He struggled and strained with all his might, but the straps securing him in position did not budge a millimeter. Spitting his pacifier out, he shouted “Mommy! Mommy, please no! Please, please don’t let Lauren see me like --”
Putting her phone down and returning to his side, Melissa slapped Emily’s exposed, totally hairless inner thigh. “No talking,” she said, her tone all business. The slap on his thigh wasn’t really that hard, but Emily was not used to physical discipline from his Mommy, and he was shocked back into silence. Still totally immobile in his restraints, he looked on with wide eyes as his Mommy retrieved his pacifier, cleaned it off, and then reached into one of the drawers on the side of the island.
“You know, you’re the only one you’re hurting when you struggle and resist and break the rules about babies not talking,” she said, putting a small jar of clear gel on the top of the island, just outside of Emily’s baby bath. Unscrewing the top of the jar, she took the rubber teat of Emily’s pacifier and dipped it into the clear gel, coating the bulb. “It’s going to take time,” Melissa continued, bringing the coated pacifier back to Emily’s lips. “But you are going to learn that struggling doesn’t accomplish anything. And if you won’t be a good girl and follow the rules yourself, then Dr. Thurman and I will take steps to help you follow the rules. Open up.”
Emily’s lips parted, and Melissa rubbed the teat of the pacifier around Emily’s lips before she re-inserted it into his mouth. “Babies who insist that they can talk like big girls get their medicine,” she said. Emily made a sour taste as the gel on her pacifier coated the inside of his mouth and his tongue with its faintly bitter taste. “Mommy makes the decisions,” Melissa scolded him. “Mommy decides. Not Mommy’s baby girl. So when Mommy decides something is going to happen, baby can just relax and accept it, or baby can struggle . . . and then what Mommy wanted is going to happen anyways. BABY . . . does NOT . . . decide . . . ANYthing.”
Emily’s mind was racing as he tried to figure out what this “medicine” on his pacifier was going to do, but then his heart dropped as he heard the front door open downstairs.
“That must be Lauren,” Melissa said with a sly grin. “Since you’re not going anywhere, why don’t I go greet her?”
It was true: as soon as Melissa exited the room, Emily tried again to wriggle his way out of his bonds, but it soon became obvious that he wasn’t going anywhere. As he lay there, restrained and nursing on his medicine-coated pacifier, trying to listen to what Lauren and his mother were talking about downstairs, he felt his lips begin to tingle. It was mild at first, but it escalated quickly. Soon his lips felt huge and somehow numb and itchy at the same time, like he’d been to the dentist. And all of a sudden, he found that his mouth was full of spit. It felt like a flood of it was in his mouth, threatening to overflow. Scared and confused, he opened his lips and spit out his pacifier again. The second he did so, a trail of thick drool gushed out of his mouth, dripping down his chin and falling onto his neck. Through the bathroom door, Emily could hear that Lauren and his Mommy had come upstairs. They were right outside, in his new nursery, and Lauren was gushing and squealing over how cute she thought the room was. Emily knew he was only moments away from the worst embarrassment of his life: the love of his life seeing him restrained in a baby bath, totally naked, legs spread wide and exposed from his tight pink anus to the tip of his tiny coc-k, which was still somehow rock hard, throbbing and drooling, bobbing uselessly in the air, aching but unable to find even an ounce of contact or satisfaction. And now he was drooling from the mouth as well, his lips and tongue both feeling swollen and making his mouth hang open. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk, but he wondered if he could now, even if he tried.
To Emily’s horror, the bathroom door opened.
“. . . and here she is,” Melissa said, “all snug and secure for bathtime.”
Lauren pressed her hands over her mouth and jumped up and down with glee. She kept swiveling her head from Emily in his baby bath to Melissa’s proud grin and then back again. Emily, for his part, was experiencing a level of shame he never thought possible. Restrained in place as he was, he knew Lauren could see every inch of his most private areas, and that made the shame well up in him until he felt like his chest was going to split apart. Even though he was firmly bound in place, he felt like he was sinking, and he immediately started crying. With his lips and tongue in the state they were, the sounds of his sobbing just made him sound even more like a mentally handicapped toddler.
“Llllaaaaurrrffff –” he sputtered, his lips feeling heavy and numb and making it hard for him to talk. Melissa quickly stepped to him, retrieved his pacifier from the shallow bath water and re-inserted it.
“Unfortunately,” Melissa said with a domineering grin, “a certain little princess has been in trouble for trying to talk like a big girl today.”
“You’re really going to take her language use away?” Lauren asked.
“Absolutely and completely,” Melissa said, a huge anticipatory grin breaking across her face. “It’s one of the steps that seemed really extreme to me when Dr. Thurman first suggested it. But as we discussed the other night, it’s all about choices. When I foolishly let Emily try to be a big boy, all I did was hurt her and stress her out. All those choices she had to make: what to wear, how to schedule her time, what to eat . . . they all overwhelmed her.”
“And what is language use except a bunch of choices?” Lauren said. Emily could not believe her tone. What Lauren was talking about was his Mommy taking his voice away, seeing him silenced forever, but Lauren’s tone made it seem like a wonderful, beautiful thing.
Melissa sighed with contentment and squeezed Lauren’s forearm. “Thank you, Lauren. You’ve been such a dear in all of this. You have no idea how much I’ve appreciated your support. For example, I so appreciate you coming in here just now and not speaking directly to Emily.”
Lauren smiled. “I admit, it’s kind of weird and will take some getting used to, but I just love Emily so much, as a little sister, and I want to do whatever I can to help her. So yeah, happy to follow any rules you put in place, Ms. Harper. I know this whole process is going to be tough for her, but I want to help however I can. And yeah, she’s a baby. People don’t always talk directly to babies, so I guess Emily does need to get used to that.”
“Honestly?” Melissa said, “I’ve been daydreaming for some time now about getting to the point where Emily is mentally compliant as well as physically compliant. I keep wondering what the last real, big-girl words I’ll hear from her will be. I don’t know when that moment will come or what the last big girl words I’ll hear from my daughter will be. But I’m dedicated to getting there, to there being a last time. And then? After that? Just baby babble.”
“That is so beautiful,” Lauren cooed, looking flushed with excitement. Then, looking down at Emily’s tiny, throbbing hard-on, she laughed. “Although not everything about the present moment is really beautiful.”
“Oh, I know!” Melissa laughed, “Isn’t that just horrible? Here, let’s get that taken care of before we dry our little bathing beauty off!”
“It’s not even horrible,” Lauren laughed, looking intently at Emily’s pen-is but not touching it. “It’s just . . . sad. It’s so small. And so narrow! It never could have made a girl happy, could it?”
Melissa was getting out a washcloth and running it under cold water in the bathroom sink. “Of course not,” she said, “honestly, it shouldn’t have existed at all.”
“I agree,” Lauren said as Melissa walked back over to Emily. “It’s a complete mistake.”
Emily barely had time to register the pain of Lauren’s words before her Mommy wrapped the ice-cold washcloth around her hard-on. The wet coldness enveloped him painfully and deflated him as he writhed uselessly in his bonds. He howled with the shock and unfairness of it all, once again dropping his pacifier out of his mouth and letting a huge wad of drool slide down his chin and on to his neck and chest. Lauren came around to his head, stood behind him, re-inserted his pacifier and held it in place as he thrashed.
The bathroom got quiet then, as Lauren hushed soft whispers into Emily’s ear and Melissa went about wrapping up baby’s bath time. Emily’s chastity cage was re-inserted over her now soft weiner and locked back into place. The baby bath was drained and Emily’s restraints were released. Melissa and Lauren guided them between her as they got her out of the bath and allowed her to stand while they dried her off with large, soft, fluffy lavender towels. Emily knew, deep down, that after he was dry, another big white disposable diaper would be waiting for him . . . on his changing table . . . in his nursery.
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I really like this i hope they ramp up the treatment and start to break his mind along with a more mean mommy.
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The bondage bath is a great addition! Thanks for posting so quickly.
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When all is said and done, and this is meant as a compliment, a very Poe-like story in keeping with the theme of the "Cask of Amontillado", "A Premature Burial", etc. In this case, Mike is to be immured in his own body/skull with no chance of escape. The incorporation of fetishes aside, a true horror story. Bravo!
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Hi. Thanks to all for the kind comments.
CuddleBunns and I tried hard to have a new chapter to post every Monday. Obviously, we missed that deadline here around the holidays. Sorry! Life got in the way!
We should have a new chapter for you this Monday, and that will be the last chapter of what we're thinking of as "Part One" of this saga.
We'd like for there to be a "Part Two" but we haven't written any of that yet, and we'd like to take a break from writing before we dive back into it. Then, once we do start writing, we'd like to have a lot of chapters written and edited and ready to post before we start posting. That means a longer wait, but it also means we'll have a full story to give you once it starts. So yes, there will likely be a "Part Two," but it will be awhile before that's written, much less posted.
Thanks again to CuddleBunns for working with me on this. I think "New Family Dynamic" is a masterpiece, so it's been an honor to get to collaborate with CuddleBunns on this story. We knew it was going to be a long, slow-building story, and didn't know if people would hang with us for that. We are so immensely grateful that some of you did! Thank you to everyone who gave us comments and feedback. I'm touched to know that this weird fantasy scenario of mine resonated with others in some way.
And to babycakes: thank you for that very insightful comment! I didn't think about or intend for this to be a "horror" story, but a boy being made a passenger or prisoner in his own body is a big turn-on for me (in FANTASY anyways, and of course this is all and only fantasy), so I felt very seen by your comment! I was a bit embarrassed (but also honored/flattered) to be seen so deeply by a reader.
Thank you again, to everyone who has received this story so warmly.
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You are writing a BP classic i hope you develop more on the horror stuff
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Love this story so much. So cruel. So inexorable! Any chance his botty hole might see some attention? Butt plugs would be great next step.
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I want to echo what PervScenes11 said and thank everyone for their amazing support, as well as return his thanks for being such a wonderful collaborator. It's been an absolute blast working together, and I'm so glad we've been able to each dedicate so much time and energy to crafting something that people enjoy. I still plan on trying to write on a semi-regular basis, but life has been so busy lately that continuing to post weekly just isn't possible right now. Still, we definitley plan on returning once a sizable chunk of the next part of the story has been written, so I'm looking forward to that.
CHAPTER TWENTY: BABY GIRL’S BEDTIME
Melissa and Lauren smiled at one another as they worked. For now, they were letting Emily stand between them, though Melissa was careful to make sure that one of them was holding one of Emily’s hands at all times while the other one dried Emily off with a towel. Melissa felt so giddy about everything that had transpired today, and so grateful that Lauren seemed to appreciate it all as much as she herself did. Melissa didn’t need to talk to Lauren as they worked. They simply made eye contact every so often. That eye contact and their shared smiles said, wordlessly, everything that needed to be said between them. Melissa knew that Lauren was seeing what she was seeing: Emily standing there in a daze, wobbly-kneed, and drooling heavily around his pacifier as he kept his head turned down and his eyes clamped shut. Melissa knew what that body language meant. She knew her daughter was overwhelmed by the events of the day, and that Emily was trying to crawl away, mentally, to some place where today had not happened, where he was still a fifteen year old boy.
“Emily?” Lauren whispered softly, cupping Emily’s chin and raising it, forcing him into eye contact with her. “Emily, stay with me, please. Stay with us. This is a big night, after all.”
“It’s been a big day,” Melissa said as she dispensed some girly, floral-scented body lotion and began slathering it over Emily’s hairless body.
“I think you should call it Baby Day,” Lauren said.
“Oh, I love that!” Melissa said. “What do you think, baby girl? Should we call today Baby Day? Maybe celebrate it every year instead of Michael’s birthday? After all, today is the day we all stopped pretending that ‘Michael’ was some sort of thing that needed to be taken seriously. And instead, we got my sweet, beautiful Emily’s first full day as the baby she’s always been. Seems worth celebrating to me!”
Emily tried to say “Mommy, no!” but the medicine Melissa had smeared onto his pacifier still had him drooling up a storm and feeling like his tongue and his lips were five times bigger than they actually were, so what came out was more like “Mooooffffffyyyy, nnnnnaaaaarrrrr.” Lauren and Melissa, rubbing the last of the lotion into Emily’s skin, just laughed as Emily’s gurgling caused him to drop his pacifier, which fell to the floor followed by a huge, thick rope of drool.
“Silly baby,” Melissa chuckled, wiping Emily’s mouth with a towel and quickly getting a new pacifier to slide into his mouth. “Okay, down you go. Back to crawling while we go out and get you changed.”
Emily’s mind buckled as he crawled naked–except for his chastity cage–on the floor in front of Lauren while she cooed and squealed to his mommy about how natural he looked crawling. A blur of activity followed: Melissa guided Emily up onto his changing table, unfurled a fresh disposable diaper, positioned its bulk under Emily’s raised hips, powdered her daughter, and then sealed him in the thick, nighttime diaper. A pair of soft pink, nursery print plastic panties followed. Through it all, Emily kept thinking about the fact that three days ago, he and Lauren were peers, classmates, relative equals. Now she was watching him be changed into diapers and put to bed while it was still light outside.
“What’s our little girl going to wear to bed?” Lauren asked.
“Well,” Melissa said, turning her head to the nursery’s very full closet. “I’m not sure. I’d be touched if you’d do the honors, Lauren.”
Lauren looked, briefly, as if she was going to cry tears of happiness. After only a moment’s pause, she flitted over to Emily’s nursery’s closet, where she began pursuing her options. “Well,” she said, looking back at Emily, “those plastic panties you picked for her are just perfect. And they’re pink. So we better find something that matches.”
“There’s no shortage of pink clothes in there,” Melissa said with a small laugh, “I might have totally had a field day when Dr. Thurman showed me the catalogs I could shop from to stock Emily’s wardrobe.”
“A nightgown is the obvious choice . . . ” Lauren said.
“But . . . ?”
“But I was wondering about a onesie.”
“Say more,” Melissa said, grinning.
“Well,” Lauren said, digging in the closet, “it’s Emily’s first night in her crib, right? And cribs are for babies. And onesies are for babies. I mean, sure, little baby girls wear nightgowns, but so do older girls and adult women. But only babies wear onesies. So I was wondering if maybe Baby Emily should wear a onesie to bed?”
“You make a good point,” Melissa said, grinning, “but Emily isn’t just a baby. She’s a baby girl. And today, and the next many weeks and months, are about reinforcing that for her.”
“Well,” Lauren said, grinning back, “do you think this looks like a onesie that a baby boy would wear?” The garment she pulled out of the closet was a pale pink onesie with a white Peter Pan collar and an explosion of white lace at its arm bands, leg bands, and waist. On the chest of the onesie was a huge, floppy white satin bow with long free edges that hung down almost the entire length of the whole garment. The second Melissa saw it, she erupted in a huge grin.
“Lauren, it’s perfect!”
Soon enough, Lauren had brought the prissy onesie back over to Emily’s changing table, and Melissa was guiding her daughter to sit up so that she could slip it over his head. Directing Emily to lie back once more, Melissa buckled the crotch snaps closed over Emily’s large diaper.
Beaming down at Emily as she secured his onesie and put a matching pair of lacy pink ankle socks on his feet, Melissa asked her daughter, “Aren’t you a lucky girl, Emily? Isn’t Mommy’s baby girl so lucky to have a friend like Lauren who is so thoughtful about picking out outfits for her?”
Lauren looked confused. “That’s . . . not right, is it, Ms. Harper? I mean not anymore?”
“What’s not right, Lauren?”
“Me and Emily being friends. I mean, we’re not really friends anymore are we? I mean, friends implies some level of equality. And we’re certainly not equals anymore.”
“No,” Melissa replied, “You’re not. Not on any level whatsoever.”
Lying on his back on the changing table, staring at the ceiling, trying to process the huge bulk of his diaper and plastic pants as well as the weird fit of the humiliating onesie he was in, Emily suddenly burst into tears. All he’d ever wanted was Lauren. Admittedly, he’d wanted her as more than a friend, but since he’d never been able to be her boyfriend, he’d always treasured their friendship. To know now that it was gone? Seemingly forever?
Hearing Emily’s distress, Melissa and Lauren quickly got him down off of the changing table. Emily was allowed to remain standing as Lauren kneeled in front of him and wrapped him in her arms.
“Hey – hey – sssssshhhhh – come here – come here, pretty girl,” Lauren said, holding Emily tightly as he buried his sobbing, drooling face in her shoulder. Emily didn’t know how he had any tears left to cry after all he’d been through today, but he cried hard into Lauren’s shoulder now. Her scent, the smoothness of her skin, the soft pressure of her comforting arms on his back, it was more physical intimacy than he’d ever had with her, but every time his small pen-is pulsed and throbbed against its small cage, he was reminded that this was all the physical intimacy he would ever have with Lauren, and that made him cry all the harder, which made Lauren hold him all the more tightly, which made his pen-is throb again, starting the whole loop over again. He cried so hard and so long that he wasn’t entirely conscious of Melissa and Lauren sharing a look of understanding or Melissa stepping out of the room. After some long minutes of snotty, trembly crying on Emily’s part, Lauren repositioned them both, moving herself and Emily, who never resisted, so that they were on the couch, him stretched across her lap and staring up into her face as he worked his pacifier while she wiped his tears away.
“Hey now,” Lauren finally said, beaming down at him once his crying had slowed down a little. “You got all upset when I said we weren’t friends, didn’t you?”
Emily nodded, not even conscious of how deeply he was nursing his pacifier.
“Silly girl,” Lauren said, beeping his nose. “We’re not the same age. So we can’t be friends the way we once thought we could.”
Melissa re-entered the room carrying a full bottle of her breastmilk. Smiling, she handed it to Lauren, who quickly removed Emily’s pacifier and replaced it with the bottle. Emily was acutely aware that his (former?) friend and (former?) classmate and crush was about to bottle-feed him. He didn’t want that to happen, but what could he do? Nothing. That had been the story all day today: doing things he didn’t want to do but could not stop. Sighing, he mashed his tongue upwards against the nipple of the bottle and felt a jet of warm breastmilk squirt onto his tongue.
Once both women were sure that Emily was nursing steadily on the bottle, Melissa turned to Lauren. “Does it bother you?” she asked, “Losing Emily as a friend?”
“Well,” Lauren said, “I was never really friends with Emily, was I? I was friends with Michael and . . . ”
“You can be honest,” Melissa said gently. She was kneeling next to the couch now, so that Emily, lying across Lauren’s lap, could see only his Mommy and his former best friend when he looked up.
“Okay,” Lauren said. “It’s . . . weird, what’s happened to Michael, this whole transformation into Emily. It’s definitely super weird. But it’s also . . . right. Like, it just is. It’s right. And it’s beautiful, and I feel so, so honored that you’ve let me be a part of it. I want to help however I can. I don’t like losing a friend, but losing Michael? It’s not really that big of a loss, if I’m being honest. No offense.”
“None taken,” Melissa said.
Emily’s eyes welled up with another big round of tears as he nursed his bottle.
“But it’s not like it’s a total loss,” Lauren said. “That’s what I was trying to tell Emily here. So I lost a friend? Who cares when that friend was a weak, whiny, little failure of a man? I’m sorry, baby,” she said, seeing another round of tears, “I know that’s hard to hear, but Dr. Thurman was really clear with me and your mommy that you need to hear some harsh truths. And the truth is, you were a failure as a man. But as a baby girl? Sweetie, you’re the cutest baby girl on the block! And even if I’m not your friend, that doesn’t mean I can’t be the very best babysitter–or maybe even big sister–you’ve ever had. And that’s what I want to be, Little Miss Priss, your Big Sister.”
Emily, still nursing on his bottle, didn’t want to be Lauren’s little sister. He wanted to be her boyfriend, or at least her friend. At least her peer. But lying there with his mommy and his (former?) best friend looking down on him, he felt so weak and so helpless. And–thanks to the lace on the leg openings of his onesie and the way it brushed against his smooth thighs–he also felt so feminine and so babyish. He knew the image he was presenting right now, and he hated every bit of it. A weak, helpless baby girl was the opposite of everything he wanted to be.
But as the minutes wore on and the room got quiet–save for the sound of Emily’s wet, rhythmic nursing on the bottle–something very odd happened. For Emily, the day had been both long and harsh. It was a day of losses, of things being taken away from him, of rules and regulations being imposed, of limits being set, of the searing spanking Dr. Thurman had given him. There was nothing, from Emily’s point of view, good about anything that had happened today. But lying here across Lauren’s lap, nursing the warm breastmilk and looking up, all he saw were the faces of the two women he loved most in the world. And they looked so, so happy. As Emily nursed in silence, Lauren and his mommy were slowly cuddling him, tracing their hands through his hair, wiping his tears away, rubbing his shoulders, and running their fingers up and down his smooth thighs. Melissa, as she played with the delicate lace on her daughter’s new onesie, even started to cry. Over the last several years, Emily had had plenty of chances to see his mommy cry as he struggled with missing homework, misunderstood schedules, and failing grades. But he wasn’t used to seeing her cry like this. These were happy tears. As horrible as the day had been and as humiliated as he felt now, he had his Mommy’s full attention. And Lauren’s full attention. And they both looked like they approved of him. They both looked like he was making them happy, and he wasn’t used to that. It felt good to make his Mommy and Lauren happy, even if he hated everything that was making them happy. It was confusing. It hurt to think about. And so he stopped thinking and just nursed his bottle harder.
“It’s okay, Ms. Harper,” Lauren finally said, her voice almost a whisper. “I know. I get it. It really is beautiful. And you made it happen. You loved your baby girl like she needed to be loved.”
Melissa, utterly at a loss for words, could only nod in agreement and squeeze Lauren’s hand. “Come on,” Lauren said, as Emily emptied his bottle. “Let’s go put your baby girl to bed in her crib.”
“Emily will never ever, for the rest of her life, sleep in a big girl bed again,” Melissa said, wiping away happy tears.
Emily’s stomach sank to hear that as his mommy and Lauren guided him into his crib. The mattress was covered in lavender baby print plastic and crinkled loudly as he put weight on it.
“That is so beautiful, Ms. Harper,” Lauren said. “It’s so amazing how deeply you love your daughter and how much you’ve been willing to do for her.”
Emily gasped as his Mommy reached over the top of the crib and swung the crib’s locking top into place. He was now trapped inside of it until someone chose to let him out, sealed in the little box it made, a box that was long enough for him to fully stretch out in but not tall enough to let him rise above a sitting position. As Emily put his hands on the bars of his crib, thinking how much they felt like a jail cell, Lauren reached through the bars and re-inserted his pacifier.
“Lauren,” Melissa said, “this is just the beginning. We have such a long, long way left to go.”
End of Part One
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Beyond good i hope Emily's horror gets worse and in part 2 she tries to escape but is stopped so they have to brainwash her more.
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I'm hoping for some physical modifications. Emily gets caught trying to hump her teddy bear or something after a particularly sensual moment with Lauren so she gets her little peeper removed. The staff at A Caring Place recommend leaving her balls currently as Emily still needs a little more testosterone for her physical health.
This leads to poor Emily being in even more constant sexual frustration than before with truly no way to get relief. This sexual frustration is used against her to help reinforce further babyhood.
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Please continue with part 2. immersion in a world of pretty. baby dresses, constant diapers, soft frilly plastic panties, and lots of cuddles.
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I usually don't comment here because I read stories here with my pacifier in my mouth. But this time I have to! Oh my what a great story! Thank you so much for producing this! -Curtsy, Baby Roxy
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It is so nice when loving women take care of us little ones.
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CuddleBunns and PervScenes11,
This is one of my favorite stories in the 20+ years I have been coming to Betty’s. Thank you so much for sharing it. It is such an accomplishment! I hope to
read more of your work in the future.
All the best,
Shelly
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It has been a very enjoyable story. Emily still has a long road a head of her, can't wait to see what the ladies at The Caring Place have in store for the little one.
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I just had the pleasure of revisiting this old friend Emily. What a wonderful gift this story is to all sissy babies. It is in the pantheon of the greatest sissy baby stories with a few other giants … the stories by Mary Beth Sanford being those that most easily come to mind.