Having too much of an attitude could get you into real trouble at the planet of giants.
Some adoptive parents choose skip the initial spanking altogether, and instead make some drastic changes to their little one. Gene modification therapy to change the sex of a struggling boy to that of a girl is of course the most favorite… However, new advances in that technology saw to the rise of new and sophisticated ways for parents to further humble and control their little one.
The first of which was the opportunity to let the poor boys keep their “little peeshies”. While they would now be hairless and cute like the rest of their bodies, The parents could then choose whether to keep them functioning like they used to, or all throughout the range between completely shrunken, limp and useless to almost permanently hard – the latter option would make the popular choice of keeping those peeshies locked in chastity a lot more painful of course…
But technology didn’t stop there. Why would it? Parents could now choose to rewrite their little one’s brain now entirely as a female – making her believe her rightful place is as a female, and that even she would refer to herself as a “she”. Extra cruel parents would sometimes use this feature with their decision to let the poor girl not only keep her peeshie, but making it hard all the time with NO chastity. That would make the poor girl struggle to tuck it between her legs when she pees inside the potty (if she’s not diapered of course), cry continuously and beg her adoptive parents to have it removed, only to be denied again and again, and given repeated forced orgasms by rubbing it with all sorts of devices like any other boy… Sort of like reverse chastity, if you will.
Other parents would choose to alter their little one sexual orientation during the process, and then make them ‘play humpies’ with their former girlfriends, who were also adopted, which would make delightful scenes of ‘forced lesbianism’ for the family’s video album. They could of course make their new girl be either the dominant with a hard raging dick but forced to do it as she’s attracted to boys now, or having her be the submissive one, with a locked peeshie or a pussy. The choices were practically endless!
Here, for example, we see a ‘little one’ who up until yesterday was a boy… What’s his/hers story? Who is she spreading her legs to? Is she happy about it, or forced to do so? Is it humiliating for her?
Let me know your thoughts!
The devious buttplug which was locked in your sissy asshole twitched again, squirting more hot creamy fluid into your rectum. It was a special mixture of powerful synthetic estrogens, androgen inhibitors, nanobots, and your future shemale mistress’ cum. It will all be absorbed into your circulation, changing your brain and body exactly the way she wanted to; into that of a sex starved slutty baby slave. It’s been 6 months now, and your little shrunken sissy clitty was still locked in that chastity cage under your diapers. Your constant horniness driving you crazy, and making you more open to all the hypnotic messages… Heck, you were so horny by now and your body already looked so much like a girl’s by now, you would probably kidnap and enslave yourself if you could… But don’t worry, your body is almost ready, and soon you’ll be a happy ga-ga-gooing baby slut, bouncing her bum up and down in her squishy diaper as her mistress pulls out her giant dick for you to suck on.
Your special buttplug would not be needed by then, of course, which is not what can be said about your little clitty cage which will ALWAYS stay on, of course. You’ll learn to cum from your ass, just like a good sissy baby gurl!
I don’t know why you’re fussing so much, Sissy… YOU’RE the one who wished I would become more attached to my sexuality! Who knew I’ve harbored all those deviant domineering fantasies in my subconcious for so long? It just turns out I LOVE humiliating girls and making them suffer… Isn’t it weired how it gets my so hot right now? I’m not even a lesbian! I just do it for the kick! And slowly turning YOU from my husband into my simpering, bratty, sissified baby GURL is all the more thrilling! I just LOVE how you pout and stomp your foot when I tell you it’s time for your old friend, Mister Strapon, to come and visit your little poopie-hole for a while!
Face it, Sissy! I wear the pants in this relationship right now, and you? Well, YOU wear the short baby dresses, diapies, chastity cage, and the bows in your hair, of course! And trust me, if I say you’re going off for Sissy Camp for the summer, THAT’S where you’re going!
More loving sweet mommies to coddle & kiss you and love you forever!! Lots of AB Mommies to tuck you in night night at I Need a Mommy
I gritted my teeth, partially in anger and part from frustration. But I had signed the binding contract, and our marriage therapist asserted authoritatively that once a mutual agreement had been signed sealed and delivered, then that was that – come hell or high water. No matter what, I had to abide by the clearly written terms of the unbreakable covenant.
Frankly, I thought that the sissy frilly baby bonnet my wife had designed and sewn was way over the top. Just because I occasionally suffered from erectile dysfunction was no reason to babify and infantilize and humiliate me. But that’s the contract I’d foolishly signed – whenever I failed to perform my husbandly duties in bed, then I got the bonnet, the adult diaper, and some baby toy I was expected to play with and act fascinated by. All while she spoke in a high-pitched babyish tone that one would take when speaking with a genuine infant.
Even worse, lately whenever my lackluster performance in the sack necessitated the contractually-agreed “baby time”, our marriage therapist would come over to to our house to observe, make notes, offer suggestions, and even join in as a participant! For example, he recommended that I not only just don an adult diaper for a little while as an age-play thing, but that my wife feed me some castor oil and administer an enema to assure a bowel movement, after which I’d get changed. Since we had no kids and she’d never before babysat an infant or toddler, our marriage counselor had to teach her how to change my diaper. Besides being gross and smelly, it was emasculating and embarrassing beyond belief!
He also joined in playing babyish games with her and me, with him playing the role of the “daddy”, she the “mommy” and me of course the baby. This is especially disconcerting because he’s the same age as my wife (about fifteen years younger than me), and in terms of physical fitness and good looks, he’s a much more logical match for her than I am.
When I see the two of them snuggled up together on our cozy den loveseat, smilingly watching and cooing at me in my bonnet and diaper, me playing with my toys on my baby blanket on the floor, his arm protectively around my wife, caressing her soft shoulder as her hand caresses his knee, her elbow resting tantalizingly close to his impressively swollen crotch … lets just say I’m starting to question the efficacy and the professionalism of his so-called “therapeutic” methods.
After that home “session”, I angrily confronted her. She took my outburst in stride, smirking that toddlers were legendary for selfish natures and anger issues. She promised to talk to him about my concerns during her scheduled one-on-one therapy session later that week.
The following week during my baby time, he blissfully wasn’t there, which was good because she added a new humiliating element. She put a baby bib on me and spoon fed me some unsweetened plain oatmeal with fruit, which was actually quite filling and not too bad, even though a bit bland. But for some reason, soon after eating I began to feel tired and sleepy, even though it was barely past noon and I don’t typically take afternoon nappies.
As I lay sprawled helplessly on the floor in my diaper and bonnet, more exhausted with each passing minute, I faintly remembered her opening the door for him to come in, right before she kissed me on the cheek and told me to go Sleepy-Byes, then protectively put the blanket over me. I tried to resist her placing my thumb into my mouth, but suddenly found myself without the strength to do so.
The next-to-last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was watching them kiss as they strolled hand-in-hand back to the master bedroom before shutting the door.
The last thing I remember was the warmth of my urine uncontrollably filling my diaper. It was as though all my voluntary muscles, except those that control breathing, had utterly relaxed.
I sucked contentedly on my thumb, dreaming of my upcoming diaper change.
Listen, I know this is really embarrassing for you since we used to date and you obviously still have feelings for me, but the only way your huge step-brother Jake does NOT rearrange your face at some point on this long nationwide family road-trip vacation is if you obediently wear the diaper, bonnet, onesie, pacifier, and booties, and allow everyone (including me) to treat you as a sissy baby.
I do feel sorry for you, but big Jake is my husband and the head of this family now, so what he says goes. You need to learn to just deal with it, and the sooner the better. Any more outbursts from you like back at the state line, and I promise his belt buckle will be permanently imprinted in your ass cheeks.
It doesn’t matter that your sisters were giving you a really femmy makeover and were posting the pictures to social media, that didn’t give you the right to throw a tantrum like a real baby. Besides, your mom said you looked positively adorable, and I have to agree. Look, you don’t have to enjoy what all goes on, but you’d damned well better learn to grin and bear it regardless.
Your mom and sisters really seem to enjoy teasing and regressing you too, so just keep the peace and roll with it, okay? It’s a long cramped road trip even in a big motor home, so
I suggest you just let them do whatever they want to you without a fuss, whether painting your nails, putting your hair in rollers and setting lotion, or seeing how many ticklish spots they can find on your body.
If you’d prefer being spoon-fed pureed sweet peaches and heated-up chicken noodle soup as opposed to cold mashed-up beets and peas and prunes, then you need to be a very good, very well behaved baby. Let your sisters change you, no matter how mortifying your inevitable boner, unless you’d rather them bottle-feed you cold yucky nasty baby formula instead of heated-up milk.
If Jake were to head over and hear me talking to you in anything other than a ridiculous high-pitched baby voice then first he’d smack you and then he’d yell at me. I know neither of us wants that, so when he starts coming over, just grin and giggle and coo and smile and drool and move your hands and feet in an uncoordinated fashion, just as though you were a real baby. Don’t fuss, just allow me to change you and tickle you and play with you like you were a real baby.
And for heaven’s sake, don’t let big Jake catch you trying to peak down my blouse or up my skirt, like you’ve just been trying to do right now. Remember, I’m NOT your girlfriend anymore, I’m your sister-in-law babysitter!
Diapered Sassy 