Oh honey, I’m just soooo excited that we were able to finish painting your room and getting in your new furniture and matching sheets, pillowcase, bedspread, comforter, and panties and nightdress … all just in time for the sleepover with your boy scout troop! The boys can sleep in their sleeping bags in here while you enjoy the soft warm comforts of your prissy bed. Surely they won’t be so immature as to tease you about anything.
Now now my sweetie, don’t you worry your pretty little head about what those real boys may think of your dainty room or your sleepwear, because now that their national association finally gave up fighting that ridiculous court battle, they HAVE to accept trans-gendered scouts.
Oh honey, I know you’re not transgendered, a momma always knows! 😉
But I just think that it’s so very important to raise awareness for teen trans, and you’ve always been (and I absolutely insist that you’ll always be) my sweet baby doll, so that’s exactly what we’re gonna do! Before your rough and tumble troop buddies get over here for the scheduled sleepover, I’m going to lay out all of the various makeup and perfumes and hair care and nail care accessories that me and your sisters and aunts and female cousins and both grandmas have just now given you to get you started, and arrange them neatly on your big new well-lit girly mirrored vanity.
I’ll also load up your dresser drawers and closet with all of the shoes, dresses, skirts, blouses, shorts, swimwear, sleepwear, accessories, and underwear that they so generously donated to you. I won’t have to buy you any new stuff for over a year, at which time you can get some more of your sisters’ and cousins’ lovely hand-me-downs! As you grow into their sizes, it will be so exciting to see you giving their prettiest things more wear.
I’ll demonstrate various hair, nail, and makeup techniques on you, and also upon whomever of your troop wants to bravely volunteer. Even if none of them do, I’ll still use you as a model and dress dummy to show them everything about liquid and powder base foundation, bronzer, cover-up cream, mascara, lipstick, lip gloss, eyeliner, eyeshadow, and how to match jewelry and coordinate outfits … oh honey, this will be so much FUN, don’t you think?
I’m thinking we can petition the national Boy Scouts of America to institute some new merit badges in permanent waving, mani/pedis, accessory matching, cosmetology – and we can start experimenting this very weekend with your own troop members. It sure will be a change of pace from last month’s man’s man affair, that ridiculously hyper-masculine wilderness survival primitive camping trip, don’t you think?
Many young adults try postschool on a whim. There are generous trial programs that allow new students to spend a week or two in diapers, carefree as their first childhood. This, however, would not be a productive business model. Dr. Regina Masterson, the genius behind postschool, knew she had to retain the valuable paying customers who were just trying postschool for a week.
In secret, Dr. Masterson developed a hypnosis program that would slowly erode a viewer’s ability to function as an adult. She ordered the staff at all the postschools to layer the hypnosis in with the cartoons that regularly play on monitors throughout the rooms. The adults playing at regression can’t help but be enthralled by the bright colors and sing-song tone, totally unaware that their brains are being rewritten. Soon they are unable to look away, unable to use the potty, and unable to be adults. Then the postschool becomes as necessary as the thick diapers they are required to wear from Day One.
Emily here is an excellent example. She and a few friends joined a postschool together, thinking it would be a nice vacation from adult responsibility. Now little Emmy sits completely entranced. She sucks on her pacifier like her life depends on it. She absently plays with the remote, though it is just (you wouldn’t give a baby any electronics). Most importantly, little Emmy helplessly fills her diaper with smelly poo. She is totally oblivious to the warm mush filling the seat of her diaper. Soon the caregivers will come around and give Emmy a gold star before whisking her off to the changing table. Another day, another diaper, another helpless, addicted addition to the postschool.
Diapered Sassy 