I blinked and looked around in surprise. All around me were naked sissies and they were all crying. I was crying! Who were all these sissies? Why was I a naked sissy? Where was I?
The floor was bouncy. We were all in large backyard bouncy castle! I heard the zippy door and gaped as another naked sissy was unceremoniously tossed in. She was crying, of course. I heard a padlock click shut as I stared hopelessly out of our plastic inflatable prison. We were surrounded by a pack of angry looking Mommies and Daddies.
I suddenly realized who I was and who we were: We were the Nekky Commandos! I tried to stop my tears, half succeeded, and whimpered, “S S SweetLittleAngel? Sweetie, are you here?” I broke down and sobbed. I couldn’t seem to help myself.
I took a minute to get control, sissies crying all around me. “Sweetie, it’s me. It’s Renee.” Slowly the sobbing of the sissies around me subsided.
“Renee?” A whispered question from one sissy.
“What, where am I?” Another and more…
“I’m SweetLittleAngel,” I heard. “What has happened to us, Renee?”
I turned to the voice, knowing that SweetLittleAngel would be quick to understand our predicament. I saw a sissy with a Snow White hairdo and ribbon and nothing else. I’d never seen her before but I knew it was my Sweetie. “Somehow we’re in the chat world of our rebellion against the Mommies and Daddies. That’s them out there. Where’s the Ewoks? Oh, you’re an even cuter sissy than I dreamed!” I tried to smile through my tears.
Zip! We both jumped out of our skins. A Daddy reached in and grabbed a sissy by the ear, and out she went crawling, crying, half dragged by her poor ear. They were set up outside, Mommies and Daddies seated on chairs with paddles in their hands, others in teams waiting their turn to grab us. Spankies.
A general storm of wails and tears exploded in our bouncy cell but I wasn’t aware of it. I was bawling as loud as I could.
They saved Sweetie and me for last. By this time we were just holding hands and sucking thumbs, barely moving but very scared. We knew what was coming and we knew we had no choice. The last few sissies just crawled to the bouncy doorway when pointed at, quietly crying, and barely a swat on the bum needed. I spat out my thumb in dismay. “I don’t really suck my thumb” I whispered, “but every time they grab a sissy they don’t have to force the paci on her and I want one too! It’s just like we pretended in the chat room. None of us are who we really are but then again, we are!”
SweetLittleAngel looked around. “Do you recognize anybody? I think the Daddy that is waiting for me is DaddiKins. I think yours is JoanDark. Your new Mommy.”
I felt weak in the tummy wondering if my new Mommy really was JoanDark. “We’ve changed in a lot of ways from our real selves, what do you think the changes in the Mommies and the Daddies will be?”
All I can say is it hurt a lot worse than I thought it would. At least I didn’t dribble any beforehand so that my paddling hurt and I couldn’t help it and I soaked to the max Mommy’s lap! The paci helped too.
Mommy finished my spankies and made me stand as straight as I could in front of her as she looked me in the eye. “You’ve figured out by now that I’m Mommy Joan and you better be a good sissy. I don’t know how this came to be either but that’s the way it is.”
I tried to speak around my paci but she said, “We don’t want you sissies plotting anything because we know you’re clever.” With a playful (and painful) swat on my very red bum, “Now you’ll be quiet, right? It’s bedtime.”
A bath and a diaper and a nightie and not a word from me, oh no, found me in my crib I didn’t think I could get out of in a roomful of sissies I barely knew.
Sucking on my pacifier was comforting. More comforting than it should be. More comforting than in my real life for sure. I don’t even own a paci. I dozed off and awoke to every subdued whimper in the room and dozed again. Sometimes I gazed from behind half closed wet eyes, at my surroundings: I could see the cribs near me and the sissies in them in the light of the full moon through skylights in the ceiling. Oh I could see the beautiful moon and was comforted, oh. Somehow I’d become some strange fearful hybrid of me and, of me. Of my role playing me, the sissy me. I was dreaming or delusional but here I was.
SweetLittleAngel was in the crib next to me and as subdued as I was. She was looking around too and we sometimes dozed to awake staring into each other’s eyes. I felt the need to poop and opened my eyes and my Sweetie was crying and hugging her diaper. Believe me, this is not my normal behavior! I started crying and my Sweetie looked at me and I gazed helplessly into her eyes and I made warm warm squishies and I cried and I dozed.
When I awakened to a bright day lit room I sat up with a jolt, rubbing my sandy wet eyes. All around me I could hear sissies crying. I was sitting in a warm gooey mess that I could feel all over my sissy-privates, back to front. I started crying.
I stood up in my crib, saggy diaper and all. No leaks! I looked at it more closely and it was like a Bambino, perfect size, with pretty little butterflies. But it was squishy and felt very very dirty. I continued to cry as I gazed helplessly about the room through the crib’s bars. My Sweetie’s diaper had a very pretty unicorn!
The sissies in this chat room hell I’d found myself in looked normal, that is like real life people and all, but they seemed blurry in different places. Some Mommies and Daddies arrived and started changing sissies, to a higher volume of tears, and they looked blurry here and there too. Like when the nighties came off, none of the sissies had hair anywhere but on the tops of their heads, not even under the icky mess that filled their diapers, yet some of their hairdos were hard to see. If you stared carefully at a pair of cute, if tangled, pigtails with dirty ribbons from yesterday’s battle still in place, you could almost see some other hair style underneath. Ages seemed to range from three-year old toddlers to prepubescent sissy boys and girls unless you squinted just the right way. Then you could make out ethereal forms of adults like a cloud or an aura around some of the sissies. OMG, Sweetie looked like someone’s grandmother, a cookie-baking type, then a sweet little kindergartner with big reddened eyes sucking her paci and holding her teddy bear.
I could just reach the top of my crib but the Mommies and Daddies easily reached over the sides to gently lift their crying sissies out and onto large rolling changing tables. But in that blurry sort of way they were no bigger than any of us. I picked up my Raggedy Anne and sucked on my binky, I was thinking of it as a binky!, and quietly cried. No time to even try to whisper to Sweetie, so we shared many long helpless gazes through tear-rainbowed eyelids. Our sissy-parts were sometimes blurry, sometimes not. Some definite sissy boys and sissy girls and some more, androgynous, I suppose, and those were blurry.
I heard a Mommy’s voice, close by. “Look at this!” Two rows over I saw a definite sissy boy and he was all hairy all over. This was the only body hair I’d seen. Ick! “Here’s our little sissy spy!” They placed the sissy on the changing table and rolled him away to chuckles and laughs from the Mommies and Daddies scattered around the room. Sweetie and I exchanged quick glances. Brownie!
My hands went to my mouth. My Raggedy Anne hand got there first and Anne yanked out my binky and I started to cry as I stared at my computer mouse in my hand. Wet! Yuck! I looked up to see my screen showing me logged into the SissyKiss main chat, surprisingly empty for… nine AM!
What? I sat up and squished!
I was wearing a diaper and it was obviously full but no leaks! I looked down and saw pretty little butterflies and smelled, yuck!
I was confused and wet-eyed and messy and wearing a diaper I’d never seen before and very very very very icky! I was insane and I was late for work.
OK, some background here: The first thing I want to say is I’m more or less normal. Late thirties, divorced, two kids (a boy and a girl, twins), web page designer, not rich, not poor, living alone, blah blah blah. I love my kids, now in high school, and I’m still pretty good friends with my wife. We fell in love in college, got married after graduation and had a wonderful yuppie life together, welded together by two beautiful children and our wonderful life--picnics and campouts, vacations to Disneyworld and Maui, boy scouts, girl scouts, pageants and plays--wonderful until 5 years ago.
Our third little bundle of joy was Lara, a late arrival and a bright ray of sunlight in our lives. Mark and Michelle would do anything to spoil their little sister, Beth and I weren’t much better. But we weren’t strong enough to survive a insect. One picnic day in April Lara was stung by a bee. I picked her up and tried to soothe her and Beth worked out the stinger and then Lara stopped crying and then Lara stopped breathing! CPR all the way to the hospital, then the four of us waiting in the ER until a sad faced doctor delivered the news: Anaphylactic shock.
They say a butterfly can flap it’s wings in Australia and cause a hurricane in Bermuda. Another tiny insect didn’t make our lives into a storm like that, only endless days drizzle and mist as we drifted apart without Lara’s sunshine to dispel the fog.
Now Beth and I had always had an exciting and varied sex life. We both read The Joy of Sex and the Kama Sutra and had a lot of fun together. Sometimes we’d switch roles and she knew I liked to wear her panties. I’d even confessed to stealing panties from my Mom when I was a kid, and from a couple of girlfriends I’d had before her in school and she accepted it. No big deal. But I wasn’t able to touch her in that way after Lara left. We tried counseling but I just couldn’t get over it. The pshrink said I feared making another baby to be loved and lost and we slowly drifted apart.
Then one day when the kids were in school I took the day off and stayed home, pretending to have a cold. I thought I was alone in the house, but Beth wanted to surprise me with some chicken soup and TLC. She found me standing next to the crib in the nursery wearing a pair of Michelle’s princess panties and a pink butterfly tee, crying into one of Lara’s diapers. As I turned to face her a wet spot appeared between my legs, expanded, and the pee ran down my legs and puddled around my bare feet. Beth came forward and wrapped me in her arms, not caring that her skirt was getting wet.
After a while she said, “I’ve been offered a job with a law firm in San Francisco. I think we need to separate for a while.”
“I think you’re right”, I replied. I felt like I wanted Beth to clean me up didn’t say so.
That was four years ago. The black hole in my heart is smaller now. Time does heal wounds at least a little bit but I still miss my Lara so. I remember a day three years back when Beth and the kids were down for the garlic festival (yes, I live in Gilroy) and we were almost like one not-so-big happy family. My son, Mark, never beats around the bush.
“When are you guys gonna get back together?”
I smiled and reached for Beth’s hand. “We’re not, in fact we’re going to make it official and get a divorce.” I could see the hurt on both their faces. Michelle even started to tear up. Beth and I exchanged a sad smile. “We’re your parents and we love you very much. How couldn’t we? You’re our perfect kids,” mischievous Michelle rolled her eyes at this and even grinned a little, “but we’ve just lost our spark. It’s time we both moved on.”
“Perfecto-Mark has garlic breath.”
“You would too if you weren’t hoping to get kissed by Danny.” Daniel is the boy next door who grew up with the twins. “My friend Whitney’s folks hate each other and they buy her anything she wants.”
I let Beth take over. “That’s because Whitney’s parents are trying to buy her love. We’re not going to buy either of you, you’re costing us too much already. In fact, we may just put you two up on EBay.” Twin looks of startlement appeared, then grins as they figured out that their Mom was just kidding. “Seriously. You’re father and I are Best Friends Forever and nothing can change that.”
And it’s true, Beth is my BFF in the world! We don’t have any kind of custody agreement and we’re all as happy possible. A truly amicable divorce. We’re both there for the kids and the Wunder-twins get it. One thing though, and Beth and I agree completely on this, I don’t mess with Michelle’s panties. That was a one time thing. Beth knows I wear panties all the time now because she’s my BFF. The kids know nothing, and that’s the way it should be. She really surprised my on my last birthday though. She FedExed a small package to me. The note read:
My darling boy,
I’ve always known you were a bit of a sissy and loved you for it. I had these made special for you. Hope you like them!
Inside we’re three pretty silk training bras, pink, lavender and cream. She really knows me.
My pshrink says there’s nothing particularly unusual about my interest in women’s pretty under things, that it’s a very common fetish. Obviously I’ve always had it. I remember once playing with a neighbor girl, I was maybe four or five, and we played dress up. We got into her mom’s stuff, undies, dresses, high heels, lipstick. Her mom thought we were cute and so did mine when she came to pick me up.
Of course, once I started school, I learned pretty quick to be no sissy! Quite the opposite. I remember putting worms down that same girl’s back (Mary Grace was her name) in about third grade. And when puberty hit, I of course showed a normal boys interest in bras by sneaking up behind girls including Mary Grace and snapping their straps. But every once in a while I’d get into my mom’s drawer and try on her under things too. This, according to Doctor Phillips, while not quite normal, is certainly not uncommon. “You’re a computer geek, just get on the web and run a search and I think you’ll find you’re not rare at all.”
How right she was! I found web sites dedicated to panties for men, and not just gays. They ranged from normal heterosexual to transgender and transsexual men. “No man is one hundred percent male and no woman pure female,” she said. “If you look at a baby’s development in the womb you see that we all start the same, your testicles are her ovaries, your penis is her clitoris, and what are you doing with those nipples? Underneath those are undeveloped mammary glands, which are really just extensions of your sweat glands.” Dr. Phillips explained that it’s not unusual desires that harm one’s psyche, but associated guilt based on hidden desires perceived as perverted by society. “No harm no foul” was her rule, and after a year or so of lurking on the fringes of these web sites, she encouraged me to participate and communicate with others who share my feelings. “Let it out and deal with it or you’ll just grow an unhealthy tumor on your id.” I sometimes wonder if she’d have been a dominatrix if she hadn’t gone into medicine.
She was right again. I started chatting on my favorite site, SissyKiss, and started feeling better about myself almost immediately. The warmth and support of the other users there made me feel better about myself, and better able to deal with the loss of Lara, as time went by.
At one session, I mentioned that a lot of the sissies at SK were also into wearing and using diapers. “Do you remember telling me about when Beth surprised you in the nursery?” she asked. “How did you feel when Beth hugged you?”
“I wanted her to clean me up.” I think I blushed.
“It’s considered normal in our society, especially for a man, to be strong and independent. But sometimes it’s healthy to be dependent on others.” Doctor Phillips said it might even be healthy for me to try wearing a diaper if I felt comfortable. Over the last few months I’ve tried it and it did feel safe and secure chatting with my friends on SK, wearing a diaper, and feeling the warmth around by sissy piece while chatting about this, that and everything. I couldn’t imagine doing what some of them did though, and actually pooping. Ick!
So one night I logged onto SissyKiss and went straight to the Roll Playing Girls’ chat. My online BFF SweetLittleAngel was pretending to lead a rebellion against the Mommies and Daddies, including JoanDark and Daddykins. These are two of the doms who give us tasks and punishments when we’re playing naughty, and pretend to change our diapers and cuddle us when we’re nice. My Sweetie led an army of nekky (naked) commandos and Ewoks to gain, for the greater good of all, prettier diapers, deserts on demand, a bigger playroom, new toys, two new slides, and “spankies for the freak babies who like ‘em”. We pretended to be slinging poop at them using catapults built by our Ewok auxiliaries. And the next morning, I woke up in front of my computer and…