Story: Chrissey’s Summer in Diapers – Part 1

By | February 22, 2016

As my mom rang the doorbell of the upper middle-class home, she held my hand firmly. I fidgeted nervously as another stream of warm pee escaped into my already wet diapers. The thick cloth was already soaked between my legs and my snug plastic panties kept it in uncomfortably close contact with my skin.

I trembled with nervous anticipation at the fate that was in store for me behind this door. We were once again at the home of Ms. Julie Johnson, a stern and strict disciplinarian my mom had hired to watch me for the summer while she was away in Europe on business. Ms. Johnson was well known for her ‘spank first, and ask questions later’ policy, and I had been the unlucky recipient of one of her severe paddlings which had left my bottom hot, stinging, and red. She seemed to relish the opportunity to apply her hard oak paddle to little boy’s buns and I feared another trip over her lap was not far off.

I was nervous for another reason as well, due to my present attire. My mom had dressed me in a little girl’s party dress, a fluffy, satin ensemble in soft pink with delicate white lace accents. It had short, puffy sleeves and a big ruffled bib making it look particularly babyish. Underneath, I wore a soft, yet stiff petticoat that flared the hem out to reveal my thick, embarrassing diapers.

Today, I was wearing glittery, lilac colored tights over my legs and a pair of ruffled pink rumba panties, stretched tightly over my big, bulky diapers. On my feet, my usual sneakers had been replaced with a pair of glossy black mary janes.

My mom had gone all out to replace my normal clothing with baby dresses, onesies and diaper shirts, steadily adding to my growing wardrobe of toddler items. They were now stuffed into the giant suitcase next to me that she’d packed for my extended stay.

I glanced around me nervously, desperately hoping that no one was watching the overgrown sissy baby standing at the door.

After what seemed an eternity, but in fact was probably only a minute, I heard the sound of high heels clicking on the hardwood surface inside followed by the door opening. I recognized the maid from my previous visit, a pretty brunette in a french maid’s uniform that was incredibly sexy. Her low cut white blouse clung deliciously to her perky, well rounded breasts and her long, sexy legs looked fabulous in her sheer, dark hose.

She smiled down on me and invited us in but I was crushed with shame as I waddled in the door, my thick wet diaper clinging humiliatingly to me,
“Ms. Johnson is looking forward to seeing you again,” she said sweetly to my mom as she ushered us into the foyer.

“Well, unfortunately, I can’t stay long,” my mom replied, ”I’m on my way to the airport to catch my flight.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, “I’ll just get Ms. Johnson.”

I watched in captivated silence as she sashayed out of the room like a model, her pert buns moving in an alluring rhythm.

My mom sat me down and I landed with a wet squish in a simple wooden chair.

“Now I want you to behave yourself while I’m gone, do you understand me?” she said facing me, ”you are to do exactly as Ms. Johnson tells you–got it?”

“Yes, Mommy,” I replied as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Just then, Ms. Johnson strode into the room looking very smart and businesslike, as well as extremely sexy. She wore a trim, smooth, dark skirt that hugged her every move and dark hose with high heeled black pumps. Her purposeful stride and the authoritative click of her heels sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

She came over and shook my mom’s hand, a polite smile on her lovely face.

“I’m pleased to see you again, Mrs. Brooks,” she greeted her.

“Yes, it was so good of you to accommodate my little Chrissey,” my mom replied.

For the first time, Ms. Johnson appeared to notice me and as she turned to face me, she placed her manicured hands on her curvy hips, looking down at me with obvious disdain.

“Well Chrissey, it doesn’t look like you’ve managed to graduate out of your sissy diapers and dresses, have you?”

”No, Ma’am,” I replied obediently. I knew how strict she was and I didn’t want to take the chance of angering her.

“Are you wet?” she asked pointedly.

I quailed in front of her dominating presence as I looked up into her dark, demanding eyes. She had a thin white blouse that was literally bursting at the buttons because of her tremendous breasts and it stretched tightly over her round, voluptuous form.

I cleared my throat nervously before replying.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered reluctantly.

She shook her head with disappointment.

”It looks like I’ve got work to do,” she said resignedly, turning back to face my mom.

”Well, I know you’ll be in good hands, Chrissey,” my mom said as she gathered her car keys.

I couldn’t say I shared her enthusiasm but I really had no choice in the matter.

After a few more pleasantries, the sexy french maid ushered my mom out and Ms. Johnson reached down to take my hand.

“Come along, Chrissey,” she said, the annoyance plain in her voice, ”let’s change those wet diapers.”

I waddled after her, my thick diapers rubbing against my inner thighs noticeably.

She led me back into the spacious interior of her house, back to a softly lit room I remembered from my earlier visit. It was the nursery and it looked to all appearances to be like any other baby’s room although it would have certainly belonged to a girl because of its pink decor. I immediately noticed the prominent smells of vinyl, baby powder, and the faint smell of stale pee, the latter a pungent reminder of my own immaturity.

Ms. Johnson led me in and sat me down on a low changing table, its surface covered with smooth, shiny waterproof plastic with a white nursery print pattern. As she began snaking my satiny rumba panties down my hose covered legs, I looked over to see stacks of white disposable diapers on a shelf nearby.

“Those aren’t for you, Sissy,” she remarked, as if reading my mind, ”a heavy wetter like you needs thick, absorbent cloth diapers.”

I blushed at that while she tugged at the snug, wide elastic waistband of my tights and panties, wrestling them over my fat diaper and down my skinny legs, leaving them gathered in a bunch around my ankles.

“Your mother is to be commended,” she said curtly as my pink side-snap plastic panties came into view, ”this makes changing big babies like you much easier.”

With that, she undid the row of snaps on either side of the panties and pulled it out from underneath me, exposing my saturated cloth diaper as she tossed the damp panties into a nearby pail. The smell of urine surrounded me and I blushed anew, biting my lip with shame.

She shook her head in disapproval and unpinned the two large bunny pins that secured my diaper, pulling it out from under me as well.

As she began busying herself wiping my still hairless genitals and rump, I couldn’t help but stare at her magnificent chest that was tantalizingly close to my face. Her big breasts swayed slightly as she moved and I could easily make out the pattern of lace on the cups of her bra. My diminutive wiener stirred at the sight and my heartbeat quickened from pubescent sexual excitement.

Ms. Johnson also noticed it as she shook baby powder over my crotch and as she lifted my ankles with one hand, she delivered a sharp, stinging slap to my exposed bottom.

“OOUCHH!” I cried as I tried to kick my feet from the shock. Her grip was much too strong however, and she easily held me in place as she applied a thick, sticky layer of diaper rash cr?me to my cheeks.

“Some little boys, once I’ve fastened them into their diapers, are tempted to play with themselves,” she warned me as she lifted my rear end off the changing table and slid a stack of three fresh diapers underneath.

“If I so much as THINK that you’ve been doing that, I’ll put you over my lap and paddle your bottom, do you understand me?” she demanded as she shook even more baby powder over my wee-wee.

“Y-yes, Ma’am,” I gulped fearfully.

My little pen-s twitched nervously as I gazed helplessly at the smooth, supple skin of her voluptuous chest.

Drawing each of the corners of the thick cloth together, she locked them securely together with a pink set of clown faced diaper pins, sealing my frustrated wiener back into its bunny soft prison.

Ms. Johnson paused from her ministrations long enough to open a nearby drawer to find some plastic panties for me. I watched and fidgeted as she sifted through various types and colors; pinks, lilacs and nursery prints, until she pulled out a pair of yellow side snap panties. Undoing the rows of snaps, she placed the open panties dull side up between my legs and slid them underneath me, positioning them under my well padded rump. With my ankles still bound by my tights and rumba panties, she drew the front of the plastic panties up between my legs and began snapping the side snaps together, enclosing the fat diapers I was swaddled in.

I looked down at the shiny vinyl surface and watched as she shook more powder on my inner thighs where they rubbed against the diapers. Putting the powder aside, she grasped my tights and began tugging them up my legs, followed by my silky rumba panties.

“Stand up,” she ordered me tersely.

I did as I was told and she wrestled the restrictive tights over my bulky diapers, pulling the elastic waistband over the top. The rumba panties, with their light, stretchy material, went on much easier, and she slapped my thickly padded bottom with a start.

“I expect you to tell me when you wet yourself,” she warned me severely.

“Yes Ma’am,” I quivered nervously.

This is where I keep the paddle,” she said ominously, holding in her hand the polished oval instrument of punishment that I greatly feared. My bottom twitched as I gazed at the six large holes drilled into its smooth face and I looked back up into Ms. Johnson’s dark, intimidating eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, swallowing hard.

“My nieces have arrived and are in the other room,” she informed me, ”why don’t you go play with them.”

The last thing I wanted was to be seen by a pair of girls but I didn’t dare argue with the strict disciplinarian towering before me.

“Yes Ma’am,” I bleated out weakly.

I waddled out of the room reluctantly, my crinoline petticoat swishing noisily as I made my way to the sound of little girls giggling. I bit my lip nervously outside the door of their room, not wishing to humiliate myself all over again. However, before long, I heard the distinctive sound of Ms. Johnson’s high heels clicking in the hallway behind me and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I stumbled into the room, my mouth dry with anticipation.

I discovered two young girls, probably about seven years old each, sitting before a low table with a tea set arranged on its surface. Their conversation ended abruptly at my entrance, and they burst into uncontrollable laughter. I felt myself blushing a hot red and I fought back tears of humiliation.

“Who are you?” one of them asked when she was finally able to stop laughing.

“My-my name is Chris,” I said at barely a whisper.

They burst out laughing again as if even my name was funny and I looked around the room nervously.

“Why are you dressed up like a baby girl?” the other one asked.

I shifted my mary jane covered feet and coughed nervously.

“I-I um, have a sort-of um, problem with um, wetting,” I stammered uncertainly.

The two girls giggled at that as they looked me up and down.

“You must be a real sissy to wear that girly dress,” one of them commented.

I was about to say something in defense when Ms. Johnson suddenly appeared at the doorway.

“I see you’ve met my nieces, Samantha and Susie,” she said as a statement, ”be sure you get along with them or you’ll be going over my knee for a lesson in manners.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I acknowledged.

She gave me a stern look before she turned and walked off.

The girls giggled and patted the chair occupied by a doll.

“C’mon Chrissey, since you’re still in diapers, you can be our baby,” Susie said.

I blushed hotly and bunched my fists in rage.

“I’m not a baby!” I said indignantly.

“Better watch that temper, Baby,” Samantha chided me with a wag of her small finger, ”or else my aunt will have to spank you.”

I cringed as I reconsidered my outburst. I still remembered all too well the last time Ms. Johnson had paddled me and I’d never cried so hard in my life.

“C’mon Sissy-boy,” she coaxed me, patting the seat once more.

Hesitantly, I took a seat in the low chair, my knees spreading out awkwardly. The two girls stared openly at the silky front of my panties, stretched out tightly over the fat diapers within them. I tried in vain to cover them with the frilly hem of my petticoat and dress but they were hopelessly too short.

“Too bad we don’t have a highchair,” Susie commented.

“That’s okay, I know where aunt Julie has a baby bottle,” Samantha said brightly as she got up in a flash.

She came back about a minute later with a bottle decorated with nursery characters filled with milk which she brought over and held up to my face. I tried to take it from her but she pushed my hand down and placed the rubber nipple up to my lips. Although both of these girls were shorter than I, Samantha was still slightly taller than I was while I was sitting down. I pulled my head away, refusing to let her bottle feed me but she followed my head stubbornly.

“No!” I said petulantly.

“Better su-k your ba-ba, or I’ll tell Aunt Julie,” she warned me darkly.

I gritted my teeth and stopped fighting her, letting her coax the warm nipple in between my lips.

“That’s it…that’s a good baby,” she said with a mischievous smile.

I sucked the warmed milk in humiliation as Samantha held the bottle in place. Each time I tried to hold it myself, she’d push my hands away and chide me for interfering. At the same time, the two girls chatted away with each other, treating me as if I really were nothing but a big baby.

When at last, I had finished the bottle, Samantha rushed out of the room to refill it. While Susie was waiting for her sister, she came over to check my diapers, pulling my dress and petticoat up to expose the waistband of my panties. Her little hands pulled my tights and plastic pants out while I was forced to endure the humiliation of having my diapers checked by a little girl half my age.

?My brother stopped peeing his pants when he was ten…how come you can’t?” she asked pointedly.

“I-um…well I?” I mumbled.

“Maybe you’re just not ready for big-boy underwear,” she offered.

Just then, Samantha returned with the baby bottle refilled. I could still feel the milk sloshing in my stomach and the last thing I wanted was more of the hated stuff.

“No…no more,” I protested, putting my hands up to block her.

“C’mon Baby, take your milk like a good sissy or I’ll call Aunt Julie,” she warned me.

“No way,” I said firmly, keeping my hands in place.

Without hesitation, Samantha called out her aunt’s name, making me freeze with fear.

Grabbing the bottle in a panic, I jammed it in my mouth and began su-king earnestly.

“There. there, Baby,” she said as she took hold of the bottle again and put my hands down, ”I’ll help you.”

My face reddened again but I kept glancing behind me to see if Ms. Johnson was coming. Fortunately, she didn’t appear to have heard Samantha’s summons and I was forced to finish off the second bottle. My young tormentor ensured that I drank every drop of milk before she took it from my lips. I felt miserable with so much liquid in my belly and I wondered desperately what further humiliations these two had in store for me.

Just then, Ms. Johnson appeared behind me, standing imperiously with her manicured hands on her curvy hips.

“Its naptime, Chrissey,” she announced simply.

I rose to my feet while the girls giggled once more and followed Ms. Johnson down the hall. She led me back into the nursery and folded down the side of the crib, sitting me on its shiny, vinyl covered mattress. The waterproof liner was a pale pink, with a pattern of rattles and toys on its surface and I noted that it smelled vaguely of stale pee. It annoyed me that I was being made to sleep on a mattress for bed wetters although I was hardly in a position to judge, given my recent history.

Ms. Johnson busied herself removing my short dress and petticoat, hanging them up in the closet and leaving me naked from the waist up. She sifted through the dresser until she found a peach colored onesie with a Care Bears logo on the front. This, she laid out next to me as she undid the buckles on my mary janes. Putting them aside, she put her long nailed fingers inside the light, stretchy waistband of my rumba panties and began snaking them down my hose covered legs.

“Sorry to take away your fancy panties, Chrissey,” she said sarcastically.

I remained silent while she drew the soft cotton onesie over my head, feeding my arms through and pulling it down over my fat, bulging diapers. I gazed longingly at the deep cleft between her big, round breasts, visible from the three buttons that were undone in her blouse. My little wee-wee ached with desire as I caught sight of the lace from the cups of her bra, visible when she bent over due to the tremendous weight of her breasts.

Ms. Johnson stood me up and pulled the front and back of the onesie over my diapers, joining the two ends together between my legs and fastening the three small snaps together firmly. With that, she sat me back down on the crib mattress and looped a large pink pacifier around my neck, inserting the thick rubber nipple into my mouth. I sucked on it obediently as she tucked me under the covers, bringing the baby blankets up to my chest and placing a stuffed teddy bear under my arm.

Just then, Samantha and Susie walked into the room and giggled when they saw me in the crib, clad in a frilly Care Bears onesie and su-king on my pacifier.

I blushed anew and Ms. Johnson turned her attention to them.

“Are you girls ready to make some cookies?” she asked pleasantly.

They let out a chorus of enthusiastic yeses and ran out of the nursery as Ms. Johnson turned on the mobile hanging over the crib and shut out the lights. I was left alone with the low nightlight and a nursery rhyme playing above me.

My frustration over my treatment finally gave way to sleep and I nodded off to a restless slumber.

I awoke in the semidarkness with the familiar feeling of a soggy, wet diaper enveloping my hips. The combination of the onesie, tights and plastic panties ensured that the saturated cloth hugged me closely all over. Squirming around or shifting the outer surface of my diapers proved pointless as the wet cloth quickly returned to its close contact with my skin. Feeling around to the sides soon revealed that I had soaked all the way to the back of the waistband and sides.

Strangely, the pacifier was still in my mouth. I was just about to spit it out when I heard an angry, low voice from the next room over. This was followed by a different voice, whining in protest. He sounded as if he were about ready to cry and within moments, I heard the rhythmic slapping sound I recognized instantly as a spanking.

su-king my pacifier feverishly, I cringed in my crib as I listened to the hapless youth getting his bottom paddled. Within seconds, I could hear him bawling like a baby, howling in protest as Ms. Johnson smacked his defenseless rump with that fearsome paddle of hers.

I twitched and chewed nervously on the big rubber pacifier in my mouth as I listened closely to the spanking, even while a secret part of me was strangely enthralled. I can’t explain my feelings but I felt a curious excitement as I visualized busty Ms. Johnson slapping the tender bottom cheeks of this unknown and defenseless youth even while the prospect of being in his shoes terrified me.

At last, the spanking was over and all I could hear were the plaintive sounds of the boy’s urgent sobbing. I pulled the baby blanket up higher around my neck for comfort and strained my ears for further clues as to what was happening. After several moments, I heard the other door open and shuffling feet, accompanied by the high pitched clicking of Ms. Johnson’s high heels approaching.

I shivered with fear as she strode into the room, holding the hand of a still sobbing boy who was using his free hand to rub his stinging bottom.
She turned on the lights and we both got our first good look at each other.

He looked a couple years younger than me, maybe ten or eleven I guessed, with short hair and a frail looking body. He wore a short hemmed top with frilly short sleeves that barely covered his belly button and a bulging, pink plastic panty covered diaper that was impossible to hide. On his feet he was wearing lacy pink and white anklets and Keds sneakers, also in pink.

As soon as he caught sight of me, he blushed furiously and he tried in vain to stop his crying. I too found my face reddening, particularly since I was about to be exposed before one of my peers.

Leaving the other boy standing in the middle of the room, Ms. Johnson came over and unlatched the side of the crib. I was so worked up that I felt a hot stream of pee flooding the front of my already soaking wet diapers.

Ms. Johnson proceeded to pull back the covers, unfastening the three snaps holding the crotch of my onesie together. I turned beet red as she snaked my tights off of my diaper and down my legs, removing them from off of my feet. Now my wet diaper was exposed before both of them and I felt tears of shame moistening my eyes.

“Well Chrissey,” she said as she looked down on me disdainfully, ”looks like you’ve managed to soak your diapers, again.”

I might have said something in response but I realized the pacifier was still stuffed in my mouth.

“C’mon,” she said as she pulled me to my feet and sat me down on the changing table with a soggy squish, ”time for a diaper change.”

By now, the boy in front of me was sniffling and wiping the tears from his wet face as he stared down with a mixture of surprise and interest. Obviously, he was just as shocked to see another boy dressed like a baby as I was.

“Chrissey, meet Timmy, a boy that is badly in need of discipline, much like yourself,” Ms. Johnson said by way of introduction.

I could barely hold my head up as he eagerly watched my diapers being taken down. Ms. Johnson dropped the wet and heavy cloth in the diaper pail with a dull thud. Just as she was cleaning my tiny pecker with a washcloth, Susie burst into the room, a baby bottle of warm milk in her hands.

“Here’s the bottle you wanted Aunt Julie,” she said as she stared down at my hairless crotch. Ms. Johnson made no attempt whatsoever to cover my nakedness and I choked back a sob of shame.

“Wow,” Susie marveled, ”he’s really got a little thing!”

“Susie? Can you give Timmy his bottle and then pick out a pair of plastic panties for Chrissey here?” Ms. Johnson asked sweetly.

“Sure thing!” she replied, obviously proud to be included in this adult activity.

While Timmy reluctantly nursed from his bottle, Ms. Johnson slathered my bottom with a generous handful of diaper rash cr?me. Under such intense humiliation, my little wiener had shriveled up to the size of a small grape. When I looked up at Ms. Johnson, it was obvious that she thought of me as being no more mature, physically or psychologically, than a toddler.

I was crushed with shame as she powdered me profusely with baby powder, filling the air around me with its infantile scent.

Taking a thick stack of diapers from the shelf next to the table, she slid them under me and pinned them securely in place.

“How’s this, Aunt Julie?” Susie asked as she held a pair of plastic panties right above my head. They were light pink, with a nursery print and fluffy ruffles running across the back of the seat in three rows.

“Perfect,” Ms. Johnson replied, ”They’re perfect for a big sissy who still needs to wear diapers.”

My face grew even redder and she snaked the panties up my legs, wrestling them over the thick, bulky diapers.

“Now how about a top for our little Miss Priss,” she said as she pulled the onesie I was wearing off my torso.

Susie went to work while Ms. Johnson tucked Timmy into the crib and arranged his teddy bear. She came back holding a pink and white gingham dress with a built in petticoat that flared the short lacy hem out in a wide triangle.

“That will match his pretty panties quite nicely,” Ms. Johnson said approvingly.

I raised my arms obediently as she lowered the girlish dress over my head and began securing the buttons in back.

“This is so you don’t get any ideas about taking this off yourself,” she told me as she fastened up the buttons that were well out of my reach.
The dress had a large lace bib on the bodice and short puffy sleeves lined with white satiny lace. After tying the wide silk sash in back into a big bow, Ms. Johnson sat me back down on the changing table to put some stockings on me. They were white and went just above my knees with a pretty satin bow adorning the tops. These were followed by my obligatory mary janes.

“There,” she said satisfied, ”our little pantywaist is all ready for company.”
I whimpered in shame as I sucked on the big rubber nipple filling my mouth. Where would my humiliation end?

She led me out of the nursery room, turning the lights out and taking Timmy’s empty bottle as she went. Holding my hand, Ms. Johnson took me to her opulent living room where a young woman was sitting on her plush sofa.

She looked to be about 27 or 28 and very pretty, with long, silky blonde hair that spilled over her bare, soft shoulders. She wore very tight white shorts and an equally snug top that hugged her curvy round bosom in the most revealing fashion. I could clearly make out the lines of her push-up bra underneath and my little wiener stirred within the baby soft cotton of my diaper. Her legs looked flawless to me, firm and silky smooth and when she crossed them, my heart missed a beat.

Under different circumstances, I would have done anything to impress a woman like this but wearing my sissy dress, diapers and mary janes, I was crushed with shame.

She stood up when she saw me and beamed a gorgeous smile that was devastating to behold.

“And who is this little cutie?” she exclaimed as she bent down to look at me.

“This is Chrissey, one of my client’s children,” Ms. Johnson introduced me, ”he still wets his pants so he has to wear diapers for protection.”

My face was a deep shade of red and I looked away in utter humiliation.

“Do you like to wear dresses too, Chrissey?” the woman asked as she smiled down at me.

“No!” I protested vehemently, ”my mom makes me wear them.”

“I’m afraid our little sissy isn’t quite telling the truth, there,” Ms. Johnson explained patiently but firmly, ”he has a history of sneaking panties and dressing up, only to be caught later.”

”Aww, I think he’s cute as a button,” the woman commented enthusiastically as she adjusted the puffy sleeve of my top.

“Chrissey, this is Heather, say hello like a good little boy,” Ms. Johnson prompted me.

Her perfect, round breasts were right at my eye level and my heart fluttered as she moved about me.

“He-hello Miss Heather,” I said uncertainly, using the more respectful title in addressing this beautiful stranger. I was meek by nature but Ms. Johnson’s formidable presence made me even more so.
“Well, it looks like Julie has got you very well protected,” she added as she reached down and lifted up the hem of my dress, exposing my nursery print plastic panties and diapers. She patted my well padded bottom playfully. My face only grew redder and I wanted to run away from this humiliating examination but I didn’t want to take the chance of angering Ms. Johnson. She only needed the slightest excuse to put me over her knee for a blistering spanking.

“Run along now, Chrissey, and play with your dolls,” she told me.

I did as I was told without protesting, and I wandered into the den to try and find some way to amuse myself. I tried to think about normal things but my mind was in a turmoil and my thoughts kept returning to Heather who had such a spectacular, sexy body. I fantasized about stroking those perfect br.easts, while kissing her full, sensuous lips and my heartbeat quickened feverishly.

Ms. Johnson was sexy but in a rather different way. Her big, bountiful breasts looked large enough to smother me with and her dark eyes were beautiful and riveting. But whenever I saw her voluptuous profile, I was filled with fear from the harsh discipline she meted out to weak young males like me. A very secret part of me felt just like the girlish sissy she believed that I was and when I looked down at the bubble bottom created by my fat diapers, my hand went down to touch the lacy ruffles. Did she know things about me that I was afraid to admit to myself?

Ms. Johnson seemed all knowing and powerful to me. Beautiful, smart, and sexy, she carried herself with such confidence and poise that I was quite simply in awe of her.

Sitting down, I pondered these two women as I gazed down at the shiny front of my diapers. The pretty pink vinyl seemed to mock my attempts to be a young man and the cartoon characters only emphasized how babyish I looked.

Visions of Heather and Ms. Johnson danced in my head, making my heart pound in my chest and I ached with sexual need.

At the same time, my little wee-wee felt restrained in my bunny soft diapers, embraced in its warm, welcome folds.

Idly, I lowered my hand to stroke the smooth surface of my panties, indirectly caressing my pen-s which was held prisoner inside. My head swam with excitement as my little member started to grow in response to my eager ministrations. I recalled the soft delicate skin of Heather’s chest and I rubbed myself harder. I imagined her bending down to kiss me and the thought made me want to explode. I was rubbing my diapers furiously now, oblivious to my surroundings with my cheeks flushed and my breathing heavy and labored.

“Well, well, well,” I suddenly heard from behind me.

I gasped in shock as I turned around to see the two of them avidly watching me in rapt silence. Ms. Johnson walked over swiftly and she jerked me to my feet, her hard hand swooping up, only to come down and swat me hard on my diapered bottom. Her friend giggled as I yelped in fear.

“What did I tell you about masturbating in this house!?” Ms. Johnson demanded.

“I-I-I…I just…” I stammered incoherently. My excited passion vanished abruptly, to be replaced with abject terror.

“Looks like our little sissy has just earned himself a spanking,” she finished for me.

“Oh No!” I begged her, “Please don’t spank me, Ms. Johnson, please?” Tears began filling my eyes and my wee-wee shriveled back into insignificance from fear.

“Come along, Chrissey,” she said tersely as she took my hand and led me back out into the living room. Taking me over to a prominent corner of the room, she pushed me into it and swatted my bottom again.

“I want you to put your nose in the corner and think about what you’ve done,” she ordered me, “and in a half hour, I’m going to put you over my knee for a much deserved paddling.”

I began crying softly to myself as I did as I was told, my mind now filled with visions of the spanking I knew was unavoidable. Ms. Johnson left for a moment, leaving me alone in the room with her sexy friend.

“Poor little thing,” she said sounding sympathetic, “here you are.”

She picked up the pacifier that was looped around my neck and gently eased it in between my pouting lips, making me blush with shame.

Ms. Johnson came back shortly and she laid the oak paddle down next to me, where I could look at it while still keeping my nose in the corner. The sight of it redoubled my fear and I felt a stream of pee leak helplessly into my diaper.

“Oh!” I squealed as I tried to cross my legs. It wasn’t really possible because of the thickness of my diapers and another, stronger stream soon followed the first.

For the next half hour, I sniffled pathetically, alternately looking at the corner directly in front of me and the smooth oak paddle at my side. At one point, I glanced over my shoulder at the large grandfather clock on the wall but Ms. Johnson took notice immediately.

“You’ll be over my lap soon enough, Chrissey. There’s no need to check the time,” she scolded me.

Her friend giggled again, and it was plain that she was looking forward to seeing me cry like a baby.

The big wet spot in the front of my diapers made it harder for me to maintain any restraint on my bladder and before long, more pee was hissing into the soggy cloth surrounding my loins. I was mortified at my own lack of self control, which would soon be evident to Ms. Johnson’s lovely friend.

“Alright Chrissey,” she said at last, “it’s time for you to pay the piper.”
I turned around slowly, as tears tumbled down my face.

“Please, Ms. Johnson, I’m so sorry for what I did,” I sobbed pathetically, “Couldn’t you just let me go this time?”

“Come here, Sissy,” she said beckoning toward her lap, “time for a good, hard spanking.”

I shuffled forward numbly, as the full realization hit me I was about to have my bottom paddled soundly. When I was within reach of her, Ms. Johnson jerked me over to her side roughly, making me gasp with the suddenness.

“Oh!” I cried, even as Heather stifled another giggle.

“You are the biggest sissy I’ve ever seen in my life,” Ms. Johnson said disgustedly, “and that’s saying a lot!”

I stared at the ground, feeling her hard eyes drilling into my face demanding a response. I was too meek to offer any argument and I stood there, my face hot with humiliation.

“Just look at you! A big boy of thirteen still wetting his diapers like a two year old! You should be ashamed of yourself!” she continued to scold me. The wet spot in the front of my diapers was now quite obvious and tears of shame ran down my face.

“And then, I catch you playing with yourself after I specifically told you not to…what do you have to say for yourself?”

I was quaking with fear and my mind was racing trying to think of a way to alleviate my punishment.

“I guess…um…I just…er…I was,” I stumbled.

“You can think about that while I warm your little sissy bottom,” she said as she yanked my pink plastic panties down off my wet diaper. I shuddered with apprehension as she pulled them down below my shaking knees, the smell of pee surrounding us, and I glanced up to see Heather staring at the dark stain covering the front of my diaper. She was shaking her pretty head and my face burned hotly.

“Chrissey, I’m going to cure you of your masturbating habit once and for all,” she told me as she hiked up her dark skirt, “you’re a naughty little boy and naughty little boys get spanked in this house.”

She had defeated me without even touching me and I didn’t resist her as she took me over her firm lap. She unpinned my diapers and pulled them back out of the way, exposing my bare bottom for her paddle. I felt the wet cloth of my diaper between my crotch and her toned thighs and I was even more humiliated knowing that she was also feeling the effects of my incontinence. Sniffling and whimpering, I looked up to see Heather looking down on me from where she was sitting on the couch. She smiled pleasantly as she crossed her silky legs as if this were the most light-hearted affair in the world.

The last thing I felt was Ms. Johnson’s paddle resting on my cheeks and it sent a shiver of terror down my spine.

“Chrissey, this will teach you a lesson as to what happens to little boys who break the rules in this house,” she said with icy calm.

The paddle swung up in a high arc, descending back down to land with a furious thunderclap.


I shrieked with pain and kicked my legs even as she brought it down again and again. I quickly lost my ability to breath and I tried to gasp between swats from her ferocious paddle.


I howled in response and beat my fists on the ground and she continued determinedly on her avenging mission. My face was wet with tears as I cried like a baby, jerking over her lap and thrashing around, desperate to escape the blows of that blistering oaken instrument of punishment. She held me firmly, making sure each stinging swat with her paddle landed precisely where she wanted it. Each cheek received its due and she turned them both into flaming globes of fire.


Through the blur of my tears, I could just barely make out Heather as she nodded her head in obvious agreement. I knew I looked like a baby, sobbing and crying but I was helpless to stop it. At last, I stopped struggling and just lay there submissively while Ms. Johnson spanked me with impunity. My cheeks were a bright reddish-purple when she stopped at last.

I was too weak to rise on my own and my chest heaved with heavy sobs that came from deep within me. Never again would I be tempted to stroke my diapers for my own pleasure–the price was simply too high to pay. Ms. Johnson lifted me gently to my feet and she set the paddle down next to her. I swayed uncertainly as I continued crying loudly and profusely.

“Chrissey, I want you to hold your diapers up with your hands and go back to your corner,” she told me, “if I catch you touching your bottom, I’ll put you back over my lap and we’ll start all over again–do you understand me?”

I stared at the rising and falling of her big breasts, straining at her white blouse and nodded my head abjectly.

“Ye-yes, Ma’am,” I sobbed noisily.

Heather giggled as I waddled back over to the corner and put my nose back into its recess, sobbing like a toddler.

Later that evening, I was wandering around the vast interior of Ms. Johnson’s house, exploring to find what there was. It was apparent to me that she was very well off, although the source of her wealth remained a mystery to me.

At one point, I was making my way down a large hallway upstairs when I thought I heard voices coming from one of the rooms. Upon more careful investigation, I soon found that the voices seemed to be coming from a door that had not been fully closed near the end of the hall. Creeping up on tip toes, I listened carefully and tried to see inside.

“There, there, baby,” I heard Ms. Johnson’s familiar voice saying, “Take mommy’s nipple…there you are…that’s a good baby?”

Vastly intrigued, I strained to look inside the room which from what I could see, appeared to be Ms. Johnson’s bedroom. On the far wall was a huge dresser, ornately carved from fine woods and above it was a long mirror that covered much of the wall behind it. I couldn’t get inside the door any further without widening it but I had a good view of Ms. Johnson sitting on her bed with what looked like Timmy on her lap. My eyes widened in amazement as I saw her stroking the back of his head gently, while she held him close to her tremendous bosom. Even from where I stood, I could plainly see that one side of her blouse was open and Timmy was nursing on her exposed breast, although he seemed to be squirming uncomfortably, no doubt from embarrassment. I had never seen a woman’s br.east up close without clothes on, not even while it was still in a bra so this was truly a lifetime experience for me. Gaping in awestruck silence, I stared dumbfounded at the situation taking place, not ten feet away. I could clearly see Ms. Johnson’s big, smooth breast, which seemed to dwarf little Timmy’s head by comparison. He had his eyes clenched shut, as if he could will the humiliating experience away simply by closing his eyelids. Nonetheless, I could see him submissively su-king away at her engorged nipple while she stroked his head and patted his diaper gently.

“That’s it baby…nurse from mommy’s bosom…don’t worry little sissy, there’s plenty of milk for you…you still have the whole other br.east to nurse after this one?” she told him soothingly as she smiled down on the bashful boy.

I had never seen anything like this in my whole life and I felt a strange buzz of excitement in my stomach although I couldn’t explain my feelings. With her big, beautiful breast exposed, I could see much of its exciting shape and my eyes wandered over the entire curvy expanse. How could poor Timmy ever expect to finish off a breast of that size I wondered in amazement. It was only then that I realized I had been holding my breath, and I slowly exhaled as silently as I dared, determined as I was to continue as a witness to this strangely wonderful experience. I could feel Timmy’s embarrassment as if it was myself lying on her lap and I could even feel my cheeks growing red from blushing. He must have felt completely overwhelmed, being surrounded by such incredible and intense femininity. The shy little sissy couldn’t even bear to open his eyes to look up into the bold, beautiful face of Ms. Johnson while he sucked from her swollen bosom like a baby.

Wiping the drool that had dribbled down my chin, I realized my little wiener was rock hard and twitching from excitement. My breathing was coming in short gasps and I trembled with nervous excitement. I wanted badly to go off somewhere and rub the front of my diaper but I was riveted to where I stood, unable to take my eyes off the two of them.

I watched as Ms. Johnson gently pulled her breast out of Timmy’s mouth and then placed it back into the lacey cup of her bra, pulling out the other one and positioning it in front of his lips. He opened his eyes briefly but jammed them shut again in terror as she rubbed her firm nipple across his pursed lips.

“Come on baby, time for more milk,” she coaxed him, “come on little sissy…this’ll make you grow up to be a big, strong boy.”

Timmy was whimpering with embarrassment and he tried desperately to turn his head away from the proffered nipple.

“Uh-uh,” he squealed weakly in protest.

Taking his face in her hand, Ms. Johnson guided his lips back to her nipple and she pressed her bosom against his face. Timmy whimpered and with a barely stifled sob, opened his mouth once more and began submissively nursing.

“That’s mommy’s baby…” she cooed, “that’s a good boy…”

Reaching down, she gently stroked the shiny vinyl surface of Timmy?s plastic panties which made me gulp with envy and lust.

I swallowed hard and reached down to feel the front of my own diapers, which separated my hand from my raging boner. The plastic panties and cloth underneath felt cushiony and soft in my palm and I rubbed it furiously, my head swimming with passion and desire. Ms. Johnson was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my entire existence and in my unbridled excitement, I quite forgot about the punishing spanking I’d received not three hours ago for just this reason.

Panting like crazy, I rubbed my plastic panties and spread my legs slightly to facilitate my need. Ms. Johnson was once again stroking Timmy’s head and verbally coaxing his efforts, despite the intensity of his shame. With rapt attention, I stared hard at her fabulous chest, one breast barely contained by the cup of her push-up bra while the other was mashed against Timmy’s blushing face. It was all too much for the premature ejaculator that I was and I shot my tiny deposit into the warm, soft folds of my diaper. At the moment of my release, a small cry of ecstasy escaped from my lips before I could close my mouth and I fell backwards in a panic.

Terror filled me to the core as I heard approaching footsteps from the other side of the door, which abruptly swung open to reveal Ms. Johnson staring down at me, her hard eyes boring into me like an icy drill.

“What is going on here?!” she demanded angrily.

My face was flushed red and I was still panting heavily, trying to recover from the incredible orgasm I’d just achieved.

“N-n-nothing,” I stammered but Ms. Johnson quickly surmised what I’d been up to. She’d already tucked her breasts back into her blouse although it was still unbuttoned for most of its length, revealing a sensuous view of her lacey bra and her incredible cleavage. She reached down and abruptly yanked me to my feet, causing me to squeal like a girl. Jerking me into the bedroom, she went so fast that I was pulled along on my tip toes, stumbling to try and keep up with the tall, buxom woman. At the edge of the bed, she stopped and yanked my plastic panties down and then unpinned one side of my diapers. Realizing my game was up and I was about to be caught red handed, I burst into tears and tried half-heartedly to stop Ms. Johnson from finding out the truth. Whimpering and sobbing, I flailed my hands in the way but Ms. Johnson merely slapped them and continued what she was doing.

In a moment, she had pulled down the front of my diaper, revealing the small gooey deposit I’d just made so impetuously.

“Oh, oh!” I cried in panic.

Ms. Johnson glared down at me before walking over to her dresser to pick up a large, oval shaped paddle.

“Well…it looks like you didn’t learn your lesson the first time,” she said as she held me firmly by the wrist, “maybe you need a little reminder, hm?”

Now it was Timmy?s chance to watch as the tables were turned for my punishment. I burst into tears as Ms. Johnson took a seat on the edge of her bed and jerked my plastic panties down around my calves. Watching closely, Timmy made no effort to leave and instead, he popped his thumb in his mouth to watch me get a good, hard, bare-bottomed spanking. Since his own cheeks had felt the sting of Ms. Johnson?s paddle earlier that day, he was only too interested in seeing it happen first hand to someone else. And perhaps my new nanny felt it served her purposes to let him watch for she made no attempt to shoo him away.

With sharp, angry movements, she yanked me over her broad, firm lap and proceeded to finish unpinning my diapers.

?I guess some little sissies just never learn,? she snapped as she shoved the thick cloth of my diapers back between my quivering thighs. I felt the frilly hem of my dress being pulled up to expose the soft, tender cheeks of my bottom for Ms. Johnson?s paddle. I pleaded miserably and strenuously with her for mercy but to no avail.

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