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“I am so proud of you, Tom,” Ms Jensen said warmly, approaching me and taking my hands in hers, “It will help you so much to accept this about yourself, Tom. We will help you turn the fantasy of being a sissy into the reality of sissy life. Ms. Panington will be pleased with this progress, and I am quite sure that Kelli will be pleased as well. Let’s get you dressed.”
I stood there in disbelief about what had just happened. I had said out loud, for the first time in my life that “I am a sissy.” I was naked in front of this beautiful fully clothed and authoritative woman who was praising me for admitting that I was a sissy. Not only that, but my penis was throbbing at its full arousal length of just over three and a half inches. And now she was going to help me get dressed and all there was to dress in was very feminine attire. We would obviously be choosing panties, a bra, and probably breast forms from the bureau and one of the many outfits hanging in the closet, and shoes…well…today would be interesting.
“I see that you are aroused, Tom. It is a cute little thing you have and that little thing seems to be so excited that it will soon be covered by panties. But I am going to ask you to keep focused so that we can get you dressed. We are to meet Ms. Panington for breakfast in her office in just a few minutes. Now let’s get started. I will select today’s outfit for you, Tom, but in the future we expect that you dress yourself. After all, you are a sissy, not a child.”
My face burned with embarrassment as Ms. Jensen brushed by me and opened the panty drawer. “I believe that pink will be the color of the day. It is, of course, the sissiest color of all and let’s have you start off on the right foot,” and she handed me a pair of the full-cut “Mommy” panties with lace around the waistband and leg openings. “Put these on, Tom. I will find a matching bra. Let’s see, I think we will go for the largest cups today. I will need the DD cup and the largest forms. Here we go, a matching pink pocket bra.” She took the bra from the bureau and some large silicone breast forms. “let me show you how to put the forms in the bra, Tom, because we will expect that you do this yourself going forward, and we will want your bra to match your panties.” She sat on the bed and demonstrated securing the forms in the pockets of the bra. “Turn around, Tom. Let’s get you some boobs,” and she laughed as I put my arms through the straps and she clasped the bra across my back. “Va-Va-Voom. Look at those tits, sissy-boy!” and she laughed some more. “Now stockings; I think we will use thigh highs today. Since we don’t have any in pink I think this nude pair will give a nice look,” and she handed me an unopened package. “I know that I don’t have to show you how to put those on, Tom. I have seen the videos of you masturbating wearing Kelli’s things. While you put them on I will choose the dress you’ll be wearing today.”
I was feeling a profound embarrassment to be dressing in such feminine things in front of, and with the help of, Ms. Jensen. But this embarrassment was mixed with an incredible arousal unrivaled by anything I’d ever before experienced. And also mixed in was an overwhelming sense of relief that I would no longer need to hide my true self. On top of all that I remained a bit scared about what was ahead.
I sat on the bed, rolled up the each stocking just as I had watched Kelli do many times, and pulled up each one, noting their fine quality, and admiring how they enhanced my smoothly-shaved legs. Ms. Jensen emerged from the closet holding a tiny pink cocktail waitress outfit. The bodice was made of a PVC-like material, shiny and stretchy, obviously form-fitting. The long sleeves were a slinky nylon see-through mesh, as was the midriff which was attached to a a pleated PVC skirt with an attached tiny white lace apron across the front. “This will be perfect for today, Tom. It will show off your breasts and give us plenty of access to your little wee-wee,” she giggled.
The underwear was a turn-on to me, but this outfit scared me, and I knew that I would look ridiculous. I started to protest, “But, Ms. Jensen,” and I could feel my penis shrinking in my panties, “I will look awful in that. I will look like a man in a waitress dress.”
“Yes, you will, Tom. I expect that you will find it deliciously humiliating, especially when we connect with Kelli on FaceTime later this morning. Remember what you are, Tom. Say it. I am not a real man, I am a …”
“I am a sissy,” I responded.
“Very good, Tom. You are a sissy. Look at you. Your tiny penis is being monitored 24/7 by women, you are wearing silky pink panties, a bra with DD silicone breast forms, nylon thigh highs, and you want to argue about what dress you’ll be wearing? Please!” Ms. Jensen quite firmly reminded me of my status. Now slip this on, and I’ll zip it up in back, and stop with such nonsense.”
There was a bit of tugging and adjusting to get the stretchy bodice over my breast forms and to get the skirt to sit just right about mid-thigh, but all-in-all it fit just like it had been special ordered for me, which it had. “You may look in the mirror now, Tom,” Ms. Jensen said.
I felt my penis growing against my silky panties as I looked at myself in the mirror. I could not believe how I looked with such large breasts; from the neck down I looked like a sexy woman ready to serve drinks at an upscale bar. But from the neck up I looked like…Tom.
“You like, Tom?” Ms. Jensen asked.
“Yes, um, I do, but, I mean it looks good and it feels wonderful, but, um…” I stumbled.
“Yes, Tom. Is there a problem?”
“Well, I appreciate all you are doing for me, and I am relieved that Kelli seems to be accepting my true nature. And I love, love, love being able to wear these clothes even if I’m a little embarrassed to have them on in front of you, but my face and my hair. I look like a man wearing women’s clothes,” I answered.
“Well, that is in fact exactly what you are, Tom. You are a male, but not a manly male, who has been sneaking around and jerking off in secret while wearing his wife’s clothes. You can never really be a woman, Tom, try to accept that. And you are not really a man either, Tom. Men don’t get erections at the thought of wearing panties and lose all control and spurt cum all over themselves when they talk about trying on their mother’s panties. You are a sissy, and your role in life going forward, now that you’ve admitted it, will be to serve women,” she paused and put her hand under my skirt and stroked my semi-erect cock until it was hard, then she continued, “Kelli has been quite specific in her orders. She has forbid us from using makeup or wigs to enhance your feminine appearance. She wants you to be a feminized male, but obviously male to all who might see you. She thinks that it will be far more humiliating for you to have to display yourself as a man in ultra-feminine and sissy clothes than it would be to allow you to imitate women. You’re not a transvestite, Tom, you are a sissy.”
I wasn’t sure what to think, so I said nothing.
“Now slip on the heels I’ve selected for you and let’s go. Ms. Panington doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I followed Ms. Jensen from the bedroom wearing the two-inch black pumps that she’d selected for me, thankful that she’d not selected a more extreme pair and thankful that I’d had plenty of practice prancing around in Kelli’s shoes that were just a size too small for me.
When we arrived at Ms. Panington’s office she was sitting at her desk busy on her laptop. “I’ve been monitoring your arousal this morning, Tom. Seems like things have been up and down, so to speak,” she laughed. “And you seemed to sleep well. The monitor indicates that your little wee-wee was erect most of the night. And I am proud of you Tom that you didn’t touch it. That is quite an accomplishment for a compulsive masturbator after your four hours of stimulation.” She got up and walked around her desk, and sat on the edge . She pointed to a small pink pad in front of her, “Kneel there, Tom. We have some things to talk about.”
Ms. Panington was wearing a flared floral dress. As I knelt in front of her and she sat on her desk, I was eye level with her crotch. I remembered that she had instructed me to look at her when she spoke, so I strained my neck to look up past her amble breasts to look at her as she spoke. “We’re going to have breakfast in a few minutes, Tom. I’m sure you are starving. But first we are going to have a little chat,” she turned to Ms. Jensen, “Ms. Jensen would you pull up Tom’s skirt and pin it to his waist and pull his panties down?”
Soon my shriveled penis was exposed as I knelt in front of Ms. Panington. “Play with it, Tom,” she instructed, “We must continue to improve your staying power. I trust that you learned from your punishment not to ejaculate without permission.”
I put my hand on my cock and began to masturbate in front of these two fully clothed beautiful women. Then Ms. Panington continued.
“I have good news and bad news for you, Tom,” she began, “I am very proud of you for accepting that you are a sissy. I heard you admit as such to Ms. Jensen through the audio surveillance we have in your room. I’d like to hear you say it to me as well, and later we’ll contact Kelli so that you can admit it to her. I know that she will be so pleased with your progress.”
“I am,” I hesitate, having a hard time getting the words to come out, “a sissy.”
“Again, Tom!” Ms. Panington commands.
“I am a sissy. I am a sissy, and my role in life is to serve women,” I say confidently, wanting her approval.
“Very good, sissy Tom. I am very proud of you! Some of our trainees find themselves unable to accept this until towards the end of their second week,” and she reached down and patted me on the head, “Now keep stroking while I give you the bad news. Nurse Pyre told me that you ogled her breasts and that you even tried to touch them with your filthy wee-wee. She said that she was testing you, Tom, and that you told her that you loved big tits and that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them. Well, Tom, you must learn that Kelli will be the only object of your sissy sexual desires. Your little wee-wee belongs to her and it is never to touch a female, nor may you touch a woman’s breasts, Tom, nor look at them with lust. They are not playthings for your amusement. Breasts are symbolic of female superiority over men, Tom. They are to be respected, not lusted after. Do you understand me, Tom?”
“Yes, Ms. Panington, sorry, Ms. Panington, but I …”
“No buts, Tom. We will consider this a minor infraction this first time, but I will expect better of you in the future. In light of your acceptance of yourself as a sissy I think a simple spanking will do. Stand up and lay over my lap sissy.”
I got up, Ms. Panington pulled up her skirt revealing the crotch of her pantyhose and I could see a hint of her black panties underneath. She patted her lap. As I lay across her thighs my now erect cock was touching the silky fabric of her hose. “Ms. Jensen, would you get a pair of Kelli’s soiled panties and place them over Tom’s head. I want him thinking of her whenever he is punished,” Ms. Panington said. Soon I hear the sound of a plastic bag opening and a pair of Kelli’s red bikini panties is secured around my head, again with medical tape ensuring that the gusset remained over my nose.
Ms. Panington began to spank me just as my senses were flooded with images of Kelli’s fragrant pussy. With each spank my body lifted just slightly off of Ms. Panington’s lap, then my cock slid against her stockings as I briefly relaxed. Spank. Up. Down. Spank. Up. Down. Spank. “You are not to ogle and lust after women’s breasts, sissy boy!” Spank. Up. Down. Spank. Up. Down. The scent of Kelli’s pussy, and all the arousal from the night before; it was too much. Kelli’s panties over my head, Ms. Jensen watching Ms. Panington spank me, my ultra-feminine clothing, too much.
Aargh! Ummph! Ahhh! Ohhh! And I came in a sudden, explosive, giant orgasm all over Ms. Panington’s nylon-covered thighs.
Ms. Panington screamed and pushed me from her lap. The arousal monitor alarm was blaring. Ms. Jensen leaped to her feet and ran to Ms. Panington’s side. Upon seeing the mess, she shouted, “Naughty sissy! Didn’t you hear the alarm?”
I lay on the floor ashamed and humiliated. I had heard the alarm begin to sound, but I so much wanted to cum I had thrust my cock into Ms. Panington’s thigh wanting to squirt. In the moment all I could think of was cumming; the consequences of doing so were the farthest thing from my mind. Lost in the scent of Kelli’s fragrant panties and the erotic thrill of being spanked by Ms. Panington in front of Ms. Jensen, the bounce of my breast forms as I lay across her lap, and when my cock had rubbed against the silkiness of her nylon stockings, all I could think of was relief. Like an animal I had given in to my instinct. Like a sissy, I had not cum in a woman’s pussy like a real man would. Instead, like a sissy, I had cum on a woman’s lap while my panties were pulled down to my knees and I was being spanked. And, once again I had ejaculated without permission.
I remained motionless on the floor in front of Ms. Panington, remaining just where I had landed when she pushed me off her lap at the feel of my cum on her pantyhose. I knew that I would again be punished, and I began to fear what would happen next. “Oh, Ms. Panington. Yuck. He spurted his slime on you. Can I get you a towel,” Ms. Jensen offered.
“Yes, a towel would be good, and please summon Ms. Sweeney to bring me a fresh pair of pantyhose,” Ms. Panington responded, then continued, “What shall we do with this sissy? He made no effort to control himself. He is not only a selfish masturbator, but a premature ejaculator with no control. It does not take much to get him off, that’s for sure.”
Ms. Jensen left the room and returned a moment later with Ms. Sweeney who saw the jism across Ms. Panington’s thighs. “Oh, Ms. Panington. That is horrible. He unloaded on you, just like that?” Ms. Sweeney asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Well, ladies, let’s talk about that. The continual arousal punishment from last night didn’t seem to leave an impression. And I don’t see that dressing him in feminine clothes is a punishment at all for him. He likes wearing women’s things a bit too much. We should have realized that from the videos that Kelli gave us, but I guess I was thinking that he was jerking off in her things because she so rarely let him fuck her. I underestimated the power of his fetish.” Ms. Panington said to the others.
“He does like women’s things; that is for sure. You should have seen his little penis stand at attention when I dressed him in his panties and bra earlier this morning. Let’s review the arousal monitor tracking and see when he seemed to be the most aroused?” Ms. Jensen volunteered.
They continued their conversation while I remained on the floor, skirt still pinned to my waist, panties still pulled to my knees, and my penis now flaccid and seeming to try to hide by pulling into my hairless crotch. I listened as they reviewed the monitoring track and as they discussed that the smell of Kelli’s panties seemed to be more than I could handle, and that perhaps they were going too fast with my training.
After a pause Ms. Panington says, “I’m thinking that since he is so aroused by wearing feminine clothing, that perhaps he is not able to handle the stimulation of panties, bras, stockings, heels, and such until he has learned strict ejaculation control. We’re used to dealing with men who find feminization humiliating and consider it to be demeaning and view it as a punishment. It seems that, with Tom, it’s the opposite. The clothing as well as the fragrance of his wife’s pussy is a powerful turn-on for him, more than he can handle right now. I’m thinking that what we should do is use this desire to train him, so we take all of that away from him and make him earn it. You know, make him earn a whiff of Kelli’s soiled panties, make him earn the privilege of wearing panties, make him earn the privilege of wearing a bra and forms, you know, all of it. What do you think?”
“I like the idea,” Ms. Jensen responds, “I think that’s what the evidence from the monitoring is showing us. He is just so attuned to jerking off and he has such powerful fetishes, I think we should use his fetishes to control him. Letting him sleep in a bedroom with a bureau full of lingerie and a closet full of frilly outfits is too much for him.”
“Yes. Ms. Sweeney chimes in, “What if we cage him in that bedroom so that he is just a few feet away from the drawers full of panties, bras, garter belts, girdles, and stockings, and a few feet away from a closet full of feminine outfits and high heels, but he is caged and unable to see or touch those things unless he earns the privilege to do so? We’ll have him begging to wear panties,” she finishes with a giggle.
“Yes. I love it,” Ms. Panington says, “And we will do our best to hide our femininity when we deal with him. No more cleavage when we’re dealing with this one, no more upskirt views; we’re just going to have to be careful about stimulating him. He’ll have to earn such privileges. He’ll go bonkers without any stimulation from women, no access to his fetishes, and no ability to masturbate. And there will be no more over-the-knee spankings for him either…unless we use spankings as a reward as well.” All three hooted in laughter at this thought. “Instead of stimulation, we will use stimulation deprivation. And, let’s calibrate the arousal alarm to go off a bit sooner so that there are no more accidents.”
I began to realize that I would very much regret that instant of gratification. I had made no effort to control my orgasm, in fact I had chosen to indulge my animal instinct and just let it go like I had done all those years while masturbating. Now I was going to pay a price. It seemed that they were planning to minimize all stimulation and keep me in a cage. They were right about one thing—I had been secretly thrilled with the idea that I would be wearing nothing but feminine clothing going forward. Now all that would be taken away and I would have to earn the privilege of panties by showing that I could control my penis.
“Get those clothes off him,” Ms. Panington ordered, “He doesn’t deserve to wear them. Dress, heels, stockings, bra, and panties; I want them all off of him. Stand up, sissy! Now!” Ms. Jensen and Ms. Sweeney wasted no time in roughly yanking all of those clothes off of me. “Now Tom, I want you to stand in the corner with your nose to the wall and your hands behind your back. I am going to call Kelli to give her an update. And I still haven’t had my breakfast which I was going to share with you. Just think; the morning started with my being so proud of you, Tom, for your acceptance of yourself as a sissy. You have much to learn, Tom, you have a very selfish nature. A sissy must learn to serve.”
Naked other than the arousal monitor, I made my way to a corner of Ms. Panington’s office where, as I stood in complete subjugation to these three beautiful women, my cock engorged and stood at full attention. “Look,” I heard Ms. Jensen say, “Look at the monitor. It shows that he is getting aroused again. He is turned on by being punished in front of us. Better that we ignore him.”
“Absolutely,” Ms. Panington responded, “Ignore the sissy. I am going to make a FaceTime call to Kelli, then get on with my breakfast.”
“Kelli? Oh, there you are. You look beautiful this morning. Can you see and hear me all right,” I overhear Ms. Panington say.
“Yes, Ms. Panington, I think we have a good connection. How is the training going?” I hear Kelli’s voice respond.
“Well, it’s one of those good news/bad news situations. I’m going to give you the bad news first. Tom is being punished right now. Let me hold the phone so that you can see your little sissy standing naked in the corner here in my office. We have to punish him again and we are going to make a change in training methods. I sure can see why you needed help with him,” Ms. Panington explains.
“I see,” Kelli responds, “What did he do?”
“He had another unauthorized squirt. He seems to think that he can indulge himself whenever he chooses. Too many years of unchecked masturbation, I believe, and it will take a while to break him of this and teach him that he is not to ejaculate without permission from a woman…well, actually eventually only permission from you, Kelli.”
“I see,” Kelli responds, “Well I have confidence in the Institute. You do whatever you think it will take. I do not want a masturbator for a husband and I certainly don’t want him thinking that he can get off whenever he chooses.”
“Okay, Kelli, thanks for your confidence in us. Tell you what. I’m going to hang up this FaceTime call and call you back so we can talk privately. I’ll get right back to you,” Ms. Panington says.
In a couple minutes I hear Ms. Panington talking again, but now I can only hear her part of the conversation. “Kelli, hi, okay, a couple things. Remember those extreme training methods we discussed when you were here?” There is a moment of silence as I can’t hear Kelli’s side of the conversation.
“Uh, huh. Yes,” I hear Ms. Panington say, “I understand, Kelli, I know that you prefer that he learns control without a chastity device. Yes, I understand, that will be a last resort.” There are a few more moments of silence. “Yes, we will be proceeding with rewards and punishments. Punishments have been a bit tricky as he seems to get aroused by being punished and humiliated by women…yes, oh, I see, makes sense…good idea Kelli. We can try that.” I hear Ms. Panington laugh. “Oh, that would be a hoot. Very fun, and I think it would be effective as well. Petticoat discipline. Love it. So you are okay with us caging him then?” She laughs again. “Oh, for sure, Kelli, we’ll send some pictures, and yes, we’ll be in touch in another day or so, as soon as we have some results to report…Oh, just one more thing, would you send some more pairs of soiled panties. I think we will need them…Yes, uh, huh. We’re training him to respond to your scent…Yes. okay. Thanks Kelli. Have a good day, and don’t worry about Tom. Sounds like we’ve got a plan. Thank you. Bye now.”
“Okay ladies,” Ms. Panington says to Ms. Jensen and Ms. Sweeney after clicking off her iPhone, “We’ve got a plan. Arrange that a dog cage be brought to his room. And call Nurse Pyre and see if she is available to meet us in the nursery.”
I stood in the corner, horrified, as Ms. Jensen and Ms. Sweeney left the office. I could hear Ms. Panington begin to attend to her breakfast as I could hear the clinking of silverware against dishes, but I was afraid to turn around. I had heard enough to dread what was ahead of me…a dog cage, and what was this about petticoat discipline. What in the world was that anyway? And a nursery, were we going to plant flowers or something? I remained standing in silence as I could hear Ms. Panington eat. Eventually she spoke, “Tom?”
“Yes, Ms. Panington?”
“I’ll bet you are hungry, dear. I will have Nurse Pyre feed you once we get to the nursery,” she tells me in a sweet, but condescending tone.
“Thank you, Ms. Panington. I am hungry. Ms. Panington, may I tell you something?” I ask.
“Yes, sissy. You may speak.”
“I am sorry for ejaculating on you and messing your stockings,”
“It is good, Tom, that you know it was quite naughty. But I suspect that you are nowhere near as sorry as you will be after you are punished for your selfishness,” she said quite sternly. “Now come here, Tom, and kneel in front of me until Ms. Jensen comes to fetch you.”
I had been kneeling in front of Ms. Panington for some time as she finished her breakfast of omelet, bacon, toast, and orange juice. My mind was firing in a confused fashion and I was unsure which of many thoughts, feelings, and impulses to pay attention to, and which to ignore. Fight or flight was quite pronounced and I contemplated getting up then and there and running from the room, somehow managing to get some presentable clothing, bolting from the offices of the Behavior Modification Institute, and getting a flight home. But I knew that I would lose Kelli, and I could not tolerate the thought of that.
More significant, though, was that I knew that, deep down, this is the life I wanted. As I knelt, naked, in front of this beautiful and dominant woman another part of me felt a serenity and security. Perhaps my life would be better. I enjoyed all of my private masturbation sessions, but I always felt guilty afterwards, and I always thought that if Kelli knew about my fantasies and how often I jerked off, that she would reject me. Now it is apparent that she has known for some time, even videotaped me pleasuring myself while wearing her things and she seems not only accepting, but wanting to take me further down this road than I ever imagined. I have known for a long time that I was a sissy, I just couldn’t admit it, not even to myself, and I had feared Kelli discovering this about me. Now, here I was kneeling in front of a woman who was ignoring me as she ate her breakfast and perused the morning paper, and I was incredibly aroused.
“I can’t help but notice, Tom,” Ms. Panington eventually broke the silence, “But your tiny penis is erect. Is there something arousing to you about kneeling there while I ignore you, Tom?” She laughed and returned to her paper, casually uncrossing and recrossing her legs. “I hope that you are not trying to look up my dress, Tom. Goodness. You are already in plenty of trouble.”
She was right. I had tried to see the crotch of her pantyhose as she crossed her legs, but I couldn’t admit that to her, not with the trouble I was already in for my accident. And it really wasn’t her legs and the chance of seeing her panty covered pussy that it excited me; it was the humiliation of my submission. So I said nothing and tried to distract myself by adding columns of numbers in my head. Unsuccessful, my cock remained erect. Meanwhile, Ms. Panington continued her breakfast as though I was not there.
Eventually Ms. Jensen returned. “Okay, the cage is ready in his room and Nurse Pyre is waiting in the nursery,” she said to Ms. Panington, ignoring me. “Oh look, he’s got an erection. Isn’t that cute?” and they shared a laugh.
“Did you bring a cock leash?” Ms. Panington asked.
“Yes, it’s here in my purse,” Ms. Jensen replied.
“Well I think it’s best that you use it. Who knows what he’s been thinking while he’s been waiting on his knees with his cute little wee-wee pointed straight up. And putting a leash on his little manhood will just reinforce that it no longer belongs to him,” Ms. Panington instructed, “He’s shown no ability to control it, that’s for sure.”
Ms. Jensen stepped towards me, “Get up, Tom. Your knees may hurt a bit, huh? Doing okay, hon?” The mix of kindness, authority, confidence, and cruelty that these women displayed towards me was confusing, for sure. It made me want to please them even more. She took an inch-wide leather band from her purse and secured it to my penis, cinching it tight with a Velcro fastener. There was a small ring attached to the band and she clipped a 4 foot dog leash to the ring. “Okay, let’s go.” I had no choice but to follow close behind.
Back to the elevator which opened to reveal three women in business attire. They all greeted Ms. Jensen as they exited, but ignored me and the leash she was holding. I figured this must be routine for them. Down a couple floors we went. As we stepped from the elevator I saw a group of five women dressed in elaborate maid’s uniforms following another woman, this one in full Dominatrix regalia. We waited for them to pass, I did a double-take, and realized that only the Domme was a woman. The rest appeared to be feminized men. “Are those…” I started to ask Ms. Jensen.
“Yes, Tom. Those men are being trained to service their wives as sissy maids. I believe that Ms. Carson is taking them to their cooking class this morning. Too bad that Kelli doesn’t want you all prettily made up like those sissies. She has other ideas about what will be most humiliating for you, But perhaps before you finish your time here you will be joining some of the maid classes,” Ms. Jensen explained.
Soon we were at a door marked “Nursery” with appliques of teddy bears and Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls on the door. Through a small window in the door I could see Nurse Pyre just inside. She greeted Ms. Jensen when we came in, then took a look at me, shook her head in mock disgust and said, “Poor Tommy, still can’t control his little wee-wee. Little Tommy’s wee-wee squirted all over Ms. Panington’s lap I understand. Did you have a little accident, little one?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I did.”
“And I understand that you got in some trouble regarding your fascination with my tits. Poor little boy. I know that I embellished the story just a bit when I told Ms. Panington, but I thought it best that she knew what lust you had for big breasts. I’m sure little Tommy would love to suck on them like a wittle baby,” Nurse Pyre continued making a display of cradling one of her tits with both hands, “And now you have yourself in more trouble. I think I can take it from here, Ms. Jensen, thanks for bringing him.” Ms. Jensen handed Nurse Pyre the leash, then left the room, giving me a light tap on the rear as she walked by towards the door.
“Look around you, Tommy. There are no panties to play with, no bras to try on, no grown-up clothes at all in this room,” Nurse Pyre said ominously. “This is a nursery, Tommy. You are here because you have been acting like quite a baby, having accidents and all. If you act like a baby, Tommy, you will be treated like one.”
I looked around the room first noticing that Nurse Pyre was dressed in a different sort of uniform today. No skirt, instead light blue scrubs top and bottom and the sort of jacket a pediatric nurse might wear with a print of teddy bears and dolls much like the applique on the door. And she was wearing sensible white nurse’s shoes with tie laces. Around the room there was an exam table—I thought it was an exam table anyway, an oversized high-chair, an oversized crib-like structure, a large play mat with Sesame Street characters, a couple brightly painted toy boxes, an over-stuffed easy chair, and rows of white cabinets.
“First things first, Tommy, let’s get that leash off of you. Baby boys don’t wear leashes on their cocks. They don’t even have cocks. They have wee-wee’s,” she laughed. When she pulled off the Velcro I could feel myself start to grow and I tried to will it to stay small. I didn’t want her to think that this latest situation was in the least bit arousing to me. It wasn’t…was it?
“Over here, Tommy,” and she took my hand and guided me to what I had thought was an exam table, “Up you go, Tommy, let’s get a diaper on you.”
“No, Nurse Pyre. Please, no, please not a diaper. I am a grown man. Please. I don’t want to wear a diaper,” I pleaded.
“Okay, then. I will call Ms. Panington and have her call Kelli. The contract you signed was quite clear that any refusal to cooperate would result in Kelli proceeding with her divorce. I’ll just make the call and you can be on your way….” she responded firmly. “Or, Tommy, you can accept your punishment for cumming all over Ms. Panington’s nylon stockings, and get on with your training. You decide. Which will it be?”
“D-d-d-di-di-diaper,” I said, almost in a whisper.
“What is it you have decided, wittle Tommy? I didn’t hear you.”
“Diaper,” I responded somewhat louder.
“You want me to put a diaper on you like you are a little baby, is that what you want?” Nurse Pyre was making the most of this. “Ask me nicely, then, my dear wittle boy.”
“W-w-will you p-p-pl-please put a d-d-diaper on me?” I asked, my face now a beet red and racked with embarrassment, my entire body trembling from the humiliation of it.
“Of course, sweetie, nursie will put di-di on wittle Tommy. Get up on the changing table, wittle Tommy, and nursie will get you all fixed up,” Nurse Pyre said, now in the most sugary and condescending voice.
I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so I hoisted myself onto the table where she took off my arousal meter and set it aside, saying, “We must be careful that this doesn’t get too wet…electronics, you know. Now just so you don’t get any ideas about making a creamie in your di di, we will be testing them with a chemical that shows semen whenever you are changed. We will tolerate a slight bit of leakage, pre-cum if you will, but no messes. And, do not think that we won’t be able to tell the difference. Now raise your legs high in the air.”
I hid my face with my hands. I wanted to simply disappear. Nurse Pyre went to one of the cabinets and returned with what appeared to be several large fluffy cloth diapers, some transparent plastic pants, baby oil and powder. My penis had shriveled as small as it was capable of being, and I continued to tremble. As Nurse Pyre shoved the edge of the cloth diaper under me, tears began streaming from my eyes. I was so confused. I had to cooperate or I would lose Kelli. I liked the idea of being a sissy. I just had to endure this punishment and learn to control my ejaculations. But I was so humiliated to be treated as though I was a baby, and this humiliation was not erotic, not at all.
Nurse Pyre noticed the tears. “Oh wittle baby Tommy. It’s alright. Don’t cry wittle baby,” and she spread a liberal amount of baby oil on my penis and made a fist of her hand around it, pumping up and down until I was erect. “Baby Tommy has a stiffie. Baby Tommy has a stiffie. Baby Tommy has a stiffie,” she taunted. I thought about cumming right then and there as an act of defiance, but before I reached the point of no return she stopped rubbing me and, without another word, peppered baby powder all over the areas to be covered, pulled the sides of the diaper up tight, and pinned the sides with large baby blue safety pins. Next she slid the plastic pants over both of my legs and pulled them up snugly. “Roll over, baby Tommy,” she commanded. I did as told and could feel a tightening of the waist of the plastic pants, then heard the clicking of a lock. “There you are, Tommy, these are locking plastic pants. Just to be sure you remember who is in charge.”
“But what if I have to pee?” I asked innocently.
“Oh, I can guarantee that you will have to pee, Tommy, and you surely will have to poop as well. We expect it. And Ms. Panington is wagering that the humiliation of soiling yourself in the care of us women will be sufficiently humiliating to teach you a lesson. Little boys who cannot control their wee-wees must wear diapers,” she explained. “So don’t worry if you have to go, just go. I have two diapies on you, so it will be plenty absorbent. I heard that you’ve not eaten for some time. Down off the changing table and let’s do something about that.”
She went to a refrigerator where she removed something. I couldn’t quite see what it was, then she went and sat on the one easy chair that sat in a corner of the room. “Come here, Tommy, time to eat.”
Famished, I strode—wait, I waddled—over to where Nurse Pyre was sitting. “Up on my lap, wittle boy, time for your bottle.”
It took a couple minutes to get exactly in the position she seemed to want me. How it ended up is that I was lying across her lap with my head on her ample bosom and cradled in the crook of her arm. Once situated, she produced a large bottle containing a cream-colored liquid. It had a nipple on the business end which she pushed, with little resistance from me (I was so hungry) between my lips and I began to suck. The “milk” or whatever it was tasted wonderful if not a slight bit too sweet. After a few minutes I found myself to be very comforted by the warmth of Nurse Pyre’s breast against my cheek, the sound of her humming nursery songs to me, and the sucking sensation of drawing from the nipple. And, I had a stiffie.
Nurse Pyre took her free hand and rubbed the front of my plastic pants and they made a crinkly sound as she rubbed them. She must have known that I was erect, but said nothing and soon took her hand away. Soon the bottle had been sucked dry. “Okay baby Tommy, let’s get you in your high chair,” she said sweetly, pushing me up and off of her, “But first I will finished getting you dressed.” She produced a plastic onesie from a cabinet drawer, slipped it over my shoulders and snapped the crotch closed, securing the closure with another tiny padlock. “Okay, sweetie, up in the high chair.”
“No, please, Nurse Pyre, not a high chair,” I weakly protested, realizing that I would concede any battle.
“Babies can’t talk, Tommy. If you continue to talk I will have to do something about it. Babies cry, babies burp, babies coo, but babies don’t talk. I don’t want to hear another word out of you!” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
I made my way to the high chair where she strapped my legs in and secured my arms to the sides, then put a large plastic bib on me and secured the tray to the high chair. I was virtually immobile, was not allowed to speak, and all I could do is open my mouth when she began to offer spoonfuls of applesauce and strained peas. Yuck. Good thing I was hungry. Nurse Pyre seemed to be going out of her way to slop applesauce and peas onto my chin and cheeks.
The door opened and it was Ms. Jensen. “Looks like you have things under control here Nurse Pyre,” she laughed, “Did you put the laxative in the bottle like Ms. Panington wanted?”
“Sure did. And I put a mild diuretic in as well,” Nurse Pyre responded, much to my horror.
“Well, when you are done feeding him I am ready to bring him to his cage,” Ms. Jensen said, “He’ll be spending some time there in his diaper—give him some time to think about his selfish ejaculations. By the way, how long should we let him go between changings do you think?”
“Well, that completely depends on how humiliating Ms. Panington wants it to be. I suspect that he will be filling the diaper within the next hour. The longer he remains in a wet or messy diaper, the more he should learn his lesson, don’t you think?” Nurse Pyre responded.
“Oh, yes. Almost forgot. Do you have those kneed pads so that he can crawl back to his room. We don’t want his knees all scraped up. And those bondage mittens? Ms. Panington wants them on him before I leave him in the cage,” Ms. Jensen asked Nurse Pyre.
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Umm, how ’bout if you leave the mess on his face until I get him to his room. You never know who we might meet in the hallway. And I love the onesie. Nice touch.”
It was crystal clear to me what was going to happen. I would be crawling back to my room on my hands and knees, diapered and covered only in this transparent plastic onesie, green mess from the feeding on my face, then I was to be locked in a cage like an animal. With the laxative and diuretic there is no way I could avoid filling the diaper I was wearing. The only question was how long they would make me remain in my soiled diaper before I got changed. If I wasn’t already dependent on these women, I would be even more so. I would have to depend on them to unlock my cage, feed me, and unlock my plastic pants and onesie so that my diaper could be changed. I couldn’t explain it, but as the two women talked about their plans for me, my little cock had grown and was pushing into the soft cotton of the diaper. Why?