I'm often contacted by emerging sissies and adult babies who have trouble experiencing the headspace that they would like to. When you're a six foot tall man, it can be difficult to feel like an adorable, submissive little plaything. Helping someone break that barrier and get the fullfillment they've only dreamed of is extremely satisfying.
A came to me not sure of his interests. He only knew that he continually returned to websites featuring stories of feminization and diaper discipline. He'd never actually worn a diaper, but had often played with professional dominants, chasing that feeling of being subversively cajoled into experiencing his secret fantasy.
I answered the door wearing my emerald satin robe, my hair swept up into a casual bun sprouting gentle curls, white enamel earrings adorning my lobes. We sat on the leather couch and talked about his interests for a bit. He was obviously very anxious to experience the helplessness of being my diapered sissy, but worried that I wouldn't understand his need, just like the other women he had played with.
When I felt I had a good idea of what he needed from me, I undressed him, noting that boxer briefs were not appropriate underclothes for him, and took his clothes to the locking closet in the hall and threw them in, dropping the key into my pocket. If he wanted them back, he was going to have to behave himself. I asked him if he promised to do everything I asked of him and he said yes, without hesitating. I couldn't help but laugh. Did he really think it was so easy? Was it really such a good idea to just agree? After all, we had not met before and no matter how he sliced it, he was alone in a room with a strange woman and no clothes. At this point he began to realize what he had gotten himself into.
Stripped and at my mercy (he was a tiny little thing), I led him back to the bedroom and had him lie down on the bed, which was covered with a changing pad. I removed my robe to reveal my favorite green girdledress and flesh-tone stockings. I couldn't get baby powder all over my pretty satin robe, now could I? A didn't know whether he preferred cloth or disposable diapers, so we tried both. First I put him in a disposable with lots of baby powder. It's so much fun to make a grown man smell so sweet and innocent. The smell of baby powder is essential to true regression and sissyhood.
As is a spanking. :) I gave A a nice, submission spanking, turning his cheeks a becoming pink. It was almost as though his bottom were embarrassed by all the attention to the point of blushing!
Diapered, spanked, and perfumed, A was ready to be dressed. I selected a crocheted bunny cap and a pink dress so short as to almost be a shirt, just to show off the diaper and freshly spanked thighs all the more.
The rest of our time together was spent proving to A that he was not really a man, but a sissy who was desperately in need of an attitude adjustment. When he did not speak like a little sissy, a pink pacifier was put into his mouth and he was forbidden to talk any more. When his twirl was unsatisfactory, he was spanked with his own belt, which made him jerk and twist in the most ridiculous manner. When he was making sissy cream, I pointed out that, should he fail to make creamy, he was impotent and not really a man, whereas if he succeeded (and, boy, did he ever!) he was doing so in a pink dress and diaper. A sissy baby just can't win!
In the end, A had to walk away with the sure knowledge that he was nothing but a sissy baby who desperately needed to be doted upon by his loving Mommy.
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