“Come here. We’ve got just ten minutes for me to get you dressed.” Rosamund Hansworth pulled on her latex gloves as she sat on the lilac velvet stool between her closet and the side of her enormous bed. Stanley Rawsthorne stepped forward, with a shiver in the chill of her bedroom, and stood with his knees pressed together, arms by his sides and his hands spread down the outsides of his thighs in the prescribed inspection position. He wilted with shame, naked in front of his wife’s mother for her to check that he had showered correctly for sitting with her and her daughter for the evening. As always, she started with his genitals. He peered down between his enlarged breasts as she held his cock and testes in both hands and turned them this way and that.
“Have you given this stupid little thing a thorough wash? My daughter might want to take it out to show her visitor.”
“Her visitor?” Stanley knees tightened together and his hands curled upward at the wrists. He fought to control his nerves, but he just had to ask. “Wh-Who is going to c-come, Mother-In-Law?”
“A friend of Janice’s. Your wife needs some sensible company of an evening. Bend low.”
Stanley reached his fingertips to his toes, his pulse quickening, keeping his knees straight as Rosamund’s fingers parted his buttocks and opened his anus to peek inside. Her finger pushed in by two or three inches and withdrew.
“Up.” Her face was a sour lemon as she used a perfumed wet wipe to cleanse it, then her gloves ripples off and her scarlet nails reappeared, matching the gloss of her lips. She wore white earrings dangling at her neck, above the rolled collar of her royal blue Givenchy dress. Stanley had to know more.
“I-Is it g-going to be another woman – or a man?”
Rosamund stood and opened the deep drawer at the bottom of the press. “Janice has decided you will meet her boyfriend, so you will be presented to him when he comes for the evening.”
“Ohhhh! Oh God! Is it – Jez? Or the new guy, David?” His heart weighed with despair. It was one thing for Janice to enjoy handing him over to her mother for these awful changes they had made in his life, but what was this guy going to say when he saw her husband in – in a dress! Rosamund presented him with his narrow belt with lacy garters dangling, and white satin ribbon bows at the clips. Then she had him sit on the bed for his nylons – in girly pink.
“Oh no, please no,” he grizzled looking down his curvaceous legs. She drew open the bottom drawer of the press. When she returned, she was opening out the plastic-covered couchette. A wave of shock swept over Stanley’s scalp.
“Oh nooo-oooooo, not a diaper!” the tears welled in his eyes. Surely Janice couldn’t humiliate him like this. Rosamund had put him in a diaper on Friday night, and the two women kept him in one all weekend so he was totally wet and heavy by the time she changed and bathed him on Sunday night. The tears welled in his eyes. It was useless to protest once his Mother-In-Law had made a decision. She was going to have him in a diaper to meet this guy. She ordered him up onto the couchette, and slid him into position. “Two things, Silky.” How he hated her calling him that. “One, if Janice wants to enjoy a nice evening with one of her boyfriends, you are not going to spoil it. And the other, you are going to make sure she and her boyfriend enjoy seeing you put in your place. Knees up.”
She fanned out the disposable, lifted him and slid it into place. “You’re going to look the part tonight. We’re going to leave the guy in no doubt that you are totally sexless, a fairy.” She sprinkled him with talc and dusted it into his hairless skin wherever the diaper would clasp him in its embrace. Then she wrapped him in its silk-padded folds, taping, undoing, pulling tighter, taping again until he was firmly diapered to her satisfaction. “Janice has been going with Dave for three weeks now. She’s looking forward to sitting on the settee with him to enjoy seeing how you react when he gets fresh with her, kissing and everything. The tears burnt in Stanley’s eyes.
“But she’s my wife.” Pangs of anguish ran through him as Rosamund lifted his rump and wrapped him in elasticated white plastic pants, drawing the sides together over his diaper and pressing shut the lines of poppers so that he was snugly enclosed. She had a pair of cerise satin panties, spacious enough to cover his bulky bottom and belly.
“You’re a sissy. A transvestite, into wearing women’s panties and corsets. You don’t deserve a wife.” His life passed through his mind as he recalled with horror being found by the two of them in Rosamund’s corset, stockings and high heels, with one of her dresses laid out on the bed ready for him to get into. His stupidity that day had led to all the misery that followed. “That’s why your wife should have a boyfriend – a real man. And your place is to watch. And for them to have a laugh at you. Janice is going to give you a bottle of milk – a big bottle, so you had better have a second diaper a bit later. A maxi. Then you won’t leak, or smell of wetties. Come on: up.”
His heart sank as he saw himself in Rosamund’s mirror. When Janice saw these ruffled panties, she’d die laughing. That was the reaction he met with these days, now that her mother dressed him every day in some new frilly item. Should he refuse to cooperate? No. Twice now, rebellion had led to him being caned by his Mother-In-Law. It would make no difference anyway: he still had to do as he was told. At least he would have these awful breasts covered, in a dress, and maybe a slip too. The closet door closed behind him and he turned to see Rosamund holding a little chemise thing, presenting him with open, puffed sleeves of white organza.
Whimpers of shame swelled from his throat as his hands slotted in and the silky softness slid up his arms and gathered over his breasts, with his Mother-In-Law drawing it round his back to be buttoned. What a ridiculous petticoat. She had never put him in anything so utterly feminine before, and his cock stiffened in his diaper. There was a satin ribbon round the neck, under the ruff of lacy chiffon, which she pulled closer to lift the ruff like a collar round his cheeks. She did it into a bow over his buttons. Oh no, it would show outside his dress. He couldn’t stand this. It was too shameful. She made him sit on the stool to have his white patent shoes put on – with six inch heels. How horribly feminine he would look! Then she stood him up and led him by the hand to the closet mirror, arching her neck to study his appearance down the length of her nose. “You’ll do,” she declared, pursing her lips with satisfaction. “A frilly baby girl – utterly sexless. And just in time. Dave will be here in three minutes.”
“But – what about my dress?” He was being led to the door. “I can’t go down like this. Not just in a petticoat!”
“It isn’t a petticoat, fool. It’s your new baby blouse. To be worn with ruffled baby pants. You will spend the evening like this, looking sweet and pathetic.”
Stanley pulled at her hand, planted his heels, looked appealingly into her narrowed eyes. “Gettoff. No. You can’t. I won’t wear these.”
The powdered face of his Mother-In-Law turned damson purple and she too pulled towards the bed once more. “Who are you to decide what I want to put you in, you little mouse? I’ll have you in your bouncy harness, looking just how I want you to look as you bounce around in front of us. You’ll be sorry you opened your stupid mouth, you wimp.”
“No. Oh no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –” But it was no use objecting now. His Mother-In-Law was opening the corset drawer, her other hand holding his with a grip of iron. Her white satin full corselet was arranged on the bed for him to lie on it with his kisses. The cane was produced, and Stanley Rawsthorne was reminded, painfully, across his nylons, how useless it was to disagree with Rosamund on what she wanted to dress him in.
***
You can visit Prim’s new site of sissy-feminization at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com to find more than 600 Prim stories. More than 100 of them tell of adult baby feminization and humiliation at the hands of dominant women.
