Sound Sissy

by Karen Singer

 

Part 6: Closing The Circle

 

The month of December was an exceptionally busy time for the band. We not only worked every weekend before Christmas, but we did a lot of one-night Christmas parties during the week too. It was a strain to do the gigs, keep up with schoolwork, and shop for Christmas presents, all at the same time. But somehow, it all got done.

When school let out for the Christmas break, Cindy took off for her parent's house. My plans were to leave on the 23rd to visit my mother. Mom had arranged to have off from Christmas Eve through New Years day.

The day before I left, I talked to Mom on the phone. Just before I said goodbye, she said, "Donald, I have a special request please."

"Sure, what is it?" I asked.

She hesitated, then said, "I want you to bring as much of Karen's things with you as you possibly can."

"Ok, I can do that," I said a little surprised, "why?"

"Well," she said, "I've been doing a lot of research, and I've also spent quite a bit of time talking with Cindy on the phone… well, never mind. We'll talk when you get here. See you tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye," I answered, still puzzled. Just what had she and Cindy talked about, and when? About me I was sure, but that's all I knew.

 

It was almost a seven-hour drive to Mom's new house. I had to change my diaper in the back seat half way there to make sure I wouldn't leak and stain my pants.

When I finally pulled up into the driveway, I saw Mom was just getting out of her car in the garage. "Perfect timing," she said. "I just got home from work." She came over to my car and gave me a big hug as soon as I got out. "How's my boy… or girl, which ever the case may be," she asked laughing.

"I'm fine, Mom," I replied.

"Let me help you get your things," she offered.

"Thanks," I said. "Since you asked me to bring as much of Karen's things as possible, I'm afraid there's a lot of stuff."

"No problem," she said, "we'll just make lots of trips."

As we were bringing in the first load she asked me, "Are your diapers wet?" I was a little embarrassed but I said, "Yes, I'm afraid they are."

"Well, you can get changed just as soon as we get the rest of your things in," she told me.

When the car was finally empty, and we were both tired of going up and down the stairs with luggage, bags, and Christmas presents, she asked me, "Are you going to get changed now?"

"I'd really like to get out of these wet diapers," I said.

"Why don't you wear something pretty instead of dressing as boy," she suggested. "That way you can wear panties instead of diapers for a little while."

I smiled and said gladly "I'd love to."

"Don't wear anything too dressy," she added quickly, "I want you to help me put up the tree."

"Oh, Ok, I won't," I said.

It took me quite a while to sort through my luggage and find just the right thing to wear. When I finally found her struggling with her artificial tree in the living room, I was wearing a maroon colored jumper over top of a simple white blouse. She smiled when she saw me and just said, "Give me a hand with this thing."

We spent a really nice evening at home that night decorating the house and just talking. Eventually, I decided I was tired and told her I was going to bed.

As I started to say goodnight, she looked at me hesitantly for a second then said, "Karen, before you go to bed, I want to give you something." She went into her room and came out with a large shopping bag all decorated with ribbons and tissue paper. "I want to give this to you now," she said.

I undid the ribbons holding the bag's handles together and removed the tissue paper on top. When I took the contents out of the bag, I got the shock of my life. There was a large stack of cloth diapers, some diaper pins, half a dozen pairs of large plastic panties, and underneath it all, what appeared to be a baby-doll nighty. I was speechless.

"I want you to wear them tonight," she said firmly.

"But Mom," I said, "I usually wear panties. I don't wear diapers to bed."

"You will tonight!" she said just as firmly, "and I don't want to hear any arguments from you. You're in my house, and what I say goes!" And she piled everything back into the bag, took my by the hand and led me up to my room.

"I'll help you with your diapers," she said as she put the bag down on the floor. "Cloth diapers are a little harder to manage than disposable ones."

"Do I have to?" I asked mortified.

"Yes! Now get undressed. And don't worry about being shy around me. I'm you mother. If a mother can't dress her own child, then who can!"

I undressed while she cleared the mountain of things I had brought with me off of the bed. When I was naked except for my panties, she just looked at me and said, "All the way! Then lay down on the bed!"

So I took the panties off and laid on the bed with my hands trying to cover my crotch. She just moved my hands away saying, "Don't bother, I'm going to see it all anyway. Goodness, you're shaved perfectly smooth even there. No hair at all. Just like a little baby."

"Cindy had me do that," I replied embarrassed. "Since I have to wear diapers a lot, it makes cleaning up a lot easier."

"I'm sure it does," she said. "Cindy and I talked about it already." I wondered what else she had discussed with Cindy.

Mom took two diapers, put them together, then took one more and folded it in thirds and placed it on top of the others. Then she had me lift my bottom while she slid the whole assembly underneath me. She brought the thick material up between my legs, and pinned the diapers together with two diaper pins. "There," she said, "lets get your panties." She pulled the plastic panties over my legs and had me lift my bottom one more time so she could pull them all the way up. "I knew they'd fit!" she exclaimed. "Now sit up." When I sat up, I was immediately aware of how thick the diapers were between my legs. I could hardly close my legs together. Mom, picked up the baby-doll nighty, pulled it over my head, and guided my arms into the armholes. "There," she said at last. "All ready for bed."

"Mom," I said, "do I have to wear these diapers tonight?"

"Yes," she said. "Now just sit there and I'll be right back. She went out and came back again a few seconds later with a little white stuffed dog. "Here, take this," she said handing me the stuffed animal. "Now come over here and look at yourself in the mirror."

I got up and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. I looked silly, and I felt very embarrassed.

"Now," she said, we need to come to an understanding. Look at yourself. You wear diapers. You wear girl's clothes. Should I treat you like a man?"

"No," I answered her.

"What should I treat you like?" she asked.

"I'm a sissy," I replied.

"So I should treat you like a sissy?" she asked.

"Yes," was all I could say.

"Ok then," she said. "I'm used to being in charge and I don't like people arguing with me. Is it a sissy's place to argue with anyone?"

"No," I replied.

"Good," she continued, "so I don't want to hear any arguments out of you, about anything! Is that understood?"

"Yes," I replied again.

"When I tell you you're going to do something, then I expect you to do it."

"Yes Mom," I replied.

"And that's another thing," she said. "I don't want you to call me Mom anymore. Look at you, you're a sissy, all dressed up like a baby girl. From now on, I want you to call me 'Ma-Ma.' Got that?"

"Yes Mama," I replied.

"Not Mama," she said,

"Ma-Ma, like a little baby doll. Now say it."

"Yes 'Ma-Ma,' I said.

"Better," she said. "Just remember, like a baby doll. I've spent a lot of time talking with Cindy, and I've done a lot of research about sissies like you, and I've developed a few ideas of my own. While you're here, I want to try-out some of my theories." Then she said quieter, "Now climb into bed."

She helped me get into bed and pulled the covers up over me. She looked at me for a minute, laying there in my baby-doll nighty, holding the stuffed dog in my arms. Then she suddenly said, "Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I'll be back again in a few minutes." And she left me and went down stairs. I laid there not knowing what to think. What was she up to? The cloth diapers felt very different than the disposables I was used to wearing and I felt very childish in them holding the stuffed dog in my arms.

My eyes had just started closing when Mom came back a little while later. She had a baby bottle in her hands. "Oh Mom!" I moaned.

"Just hush," she said as she sat down on the side of the bed next to me. "Now drink this," she said as she pushed the nipple into my mouth and held the bottle there. I had no choice but to suck on the nipple and drink the warm milk she had put in it. Drinking from the baby bottle made me feel really childish – or babyish. It wasn't easy for me to drink that way. I sucked and sucked, but only a little bit came out at a time. By the time I finally finished the whole bottle, my mouth was tired and sore from the effort.

"Goodnight, Karen," Mom finally said as she turned off the light, "And oh, I'm sure you know not to let me catch you in the bathroom!"

"Here I go again," I thought to myself. "What is life going to throw at me now?"

Sometime during the night, I woke up having to pee really badly. I knew I couldn't use the bathroom, so I just wet myself. The diapers absorbed all the pee easily, but I immediately noticed one of the big differences between cloth and disposable diapers. When the cloth diapers got wet, I could feel the wet material all pressing against me. Disposable diapers tend to pull the wetness away form your skin so you at least feel dryer. It was a strange sensation laying there in warm wet diapers. Not bad, just different.

 

When I woke up the next morning, I got up and headed down stairs to the kitchen. My wet diapers felt heavy and sagged between my legs. I was still carrying that stuffed dog in my arms. Mom was already in the kitchen fixing breakfast. "Good morning sleepyhead," she said. "Are you ready for some breakfast?"

"Good morning Mom," I said.

She suddenly looked cross at me. "What did you say?" she asked angrily.

I had forgotten. "I'm sorry, I forgot," I said. "Good morning Ma-Ma," I said again, trying to say 'Ma-Ma' as slowly and as much like a baby-doll as possible.

She smiled at me again, "Sit down and I'll give you some breakfast." She placed some scrambled eggs and sausage in front of me and then set another baby bottle full of warm milk next to my plate." I couldn't believe it! "I'm sure you can hold that yourself this morning, can't you?" she said.

I just looked at her and nodded.

By the time breakfast was over, I had to pee pretty badly again since I had been holding it all morning, so I told Mom (Ma-Ma) that I wanted to go upstairs and get out of my wet diapers and into something else.

"Just a minute," she said. "We have to discuss one of the rules of your stay this week."

"Oh no," I thought. "Now what?"

"The whole time you're here," she continued, "I want you wearing cloth diapers and plastic panties, and you are absolutely NOT, to use a toilet, for anything, at anytime! Is that clear?"

I looked at her in horror. "Mom!" I started.

"What?" she said. "Ma-Ma", I tried again. But the look on her face told me that I was stuck. I would be wearing cloth diapers all week, and I wouldn't be using any toilets. Period! I realized I didn't have any other choice in the matter now, so I just went ahead and wet myself again right there. My diapers were really sagging as I went up the stairs to wash up.

Mom sent me into the bathroom to shave first. When I went in, I noticed something new, there was a steel cable wrapped tightly around the toilet over the top of the closed toilet seat. I noticed a padlock on the side holding the ends of the cable together. Mom wasn't taking any chances. While I shaved, Mom ran a bubble bath for me.

When I finally went to remove my soggy diapers, she stopped me and said, "Here, I'll do that for you." And she removed my wet diapers and sent me into the bath.

After my bath, Mom again re-diapered me. As soon she was finished she said, "Well, Karen, I haven't had a chance to see all of your girl clothes and things. Why don't you show me what you have?"

So we spent a very pleasant morning with me modeling all of Karen's things for her. It also served as an excellent opportunity to put everything away in the closet and drawers at the same time.

The rest of the day was spent just visiting and talking and doing a little bit of house cleaning together. I was Karen again all day, and was feeling a lot more relaxed about it.

There were two things that day that I took notice of. The first was that every time my diapers needed to be changed, Mom did it for me. I never once removed my own diapers. The second thing I noticed was that every time I got something to drink, it was always in a baby bottle.

 

On Christmas morning, I came down stairs and peeked under the tree. There were certainly lots of gifts there. I quickly walked over to the tree and added my one gift that I had brought for my mother to the pile. Then I headed for the kitchen where I could once again hear Mom making breakfast.

We didn't open our gifts until breakfast was over and I had once again been bathed, re-diapered, and was dressed in my maroon jumper again. Mom insisted that it was the closest thing to Christmas colors that I owned.

When we finally sat down to open our gifts, I handed Mom my gift to her first. She was absolutely delighted with the matching diamond bracelet, earrings, and necklace I had bought her. They cost me quite a bit, but as I said, Mom had made sure I always had a decent amount of money available.

Then it was my turn and Mom handed me the first package. It was small, and I noticed that the tag read "To: Karen." In fact, I later realized that all of the packages I opened that day were labeled for Karen. That first gift turned out to be a new pair of garnet earrings. They were beautiful, and I actually took the time to remove the studs I was wearing and put them in.

Then it was on to the rest of the gifts. Every package under the tree turned out to be for me, and there were lots of them. And every gift that I opened that morning contained more clothes for Karen.

The last two packages I opened contained two button-down shirts, and two pairs of jeans. I felt relived. At last, something I could wear as Don. I was beginning to think that Mom was totally ignoring that side of me.

The rest of the day was spent quietly again and it was while we were doing some baking together that afternoon that Mom mentioned that she had planned a New Years Eve party at the house. I was a little concerned about being there, but Mom just told me not to worry about it. It was just a few acquaintances she had and everything would be fine.

 

The next day, Mom was ready to get out of the house for a while. As she put it, "I'm tired of being cooped up in this house so long. Let's go out and see what kind of after Christmas specials we can find."

After she diapered me, she just said, "I'll leave you to get dressed yourself," and went to her room to get ready.

Finally, a chance to be Don again. And that's where I ran into a problem. When I put my jeans on, I found out that my diapers were too thick to allow me to fasten them. There was no way at all that I could get the zipper to even begin to go up.

"Ma-Ma," I yelled out as I headed for her room. "I've got a problem."

"What is it dear," she answered through her bedroom door.

"I can't get my jeans on. These diapers are too thick," I said.

"Why don't you try some of you new jeans," she answered. "And wear one of your new shirts with them," she added.

"OK," I said, "I'll try."

I found one of the new button down shirts that she had given me. They were already ironed and hanging in my closet. When I put it on, I got a bit of a surprise. All the buttons buttoned the wrong way. I hadn't even realized that it was a girl's shirt. When I pulled a pair of my new jeans on, I discovered that they too were for a girl. Mom hadn't gotten me a single piece of boy's clothing after all.

Since the jeans were cut wider in the hips for a girl, I had no trouble zipping them up, even though the zipper felt awkward being on the wrong side. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn't tell that I was wearing girl's clothes at all. My diapered area bulged a little more than I would have liked, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

When Mom was finally ready, she said I looked fine and we headed off to the mall. I was a little concerned about two things, my diapers being noticeable, and the fact that Mom was carrying what was obviously a diaper bag in her hands. "Just in case you need to be changed," she said when I asked her about it.

The mall was jammed full of people looking for after Christmas bargains and we had a difficult time just getting through the crowds. Mom didn't buy anything. I think she just wanted to get out of the house and do some window-shopping for a change.

At lunchtime, she took me into a little Italian bistro that she liked and ordered lunch for both of us. The waiter brought our drinks out first, but as soon as he set them on the table, Mom pulled a baby bottle out of the diaper bag and poured my coke into it. My face turned beet red. Even here, I wasn't going to be allowed to use a glass.

Mom didn't allow us to leave until I had finished every last drop from the bottle. A humiliating experience, for sure.

As we were leaving, some girl called out teasingly, "Are you wearing diapers too?" Mom turned to her and just said, "Absolutely!" as we continued to walk out listening to her laughter.

By late in the afternoon, my diapers were beginning to sag, and I suggested that maybe we should be getting home.

"Why," Mom asked.

"I'm getting a little tired," I said, "and I'm afraid if I wet my diapers any more, they'll leak."

"Do you have to pee again now?" she asked me.

"Yes," I answered, "but I think I can wait till we get home."

"Well, if you have to pee, then just do it. There are still a few more stores I want to go in before we leave. We've been cooped up in that house too long and I'm enjoying being out for a change." And with that, she led us into another ladies wear store to look around.

I had to pee, so I just went ahead and let it out. I thought everything was fine at first, but suddenly, I felt the warm liquid running down my legs.

"Goodness!" I heard one of the salesgirls exclaim, "he wet his pants! And look, I think he's wearing diapers!"

Mom looked down at my suddenly soaked pants and saw the damage that had been done. "Oh bother," she said. Then turning to the salesgirl asked, "Is there someplace where I can change him?"

The salesgirl just pointed toward the changing rooms with an open mouth. Mom led me by the hand into one of the changing rooms, pulled off my wet pants and socks, and changed my diapers. "We'll have to find you something else to wear she said. We can't have you walking around in these things. Wait here." And she left me there while she went out into the store.

She came back a few minutes later and handed me a pair of white tights. "Here," she said, "put these on." And she left me again while I put the tights on.

She was gone for a while, and when she came back, she was carrying a green jumper in her hands. "This should fit," she said as she held it out to me.

"Ma-Ma," I cried, "that's a dress!"

"Of course it is," she said, "this is a ladies store. I'm not going to go searching all over the mall looking for something else."

I could easily see that I wasn't going to have any choice in the matter so I went ahead and put it on. "Perfect!" she said and walked out.

"Perfect for who?" I thought as I followed her.

Mom paid for my new things then handed me a plastic shopping bag containing my wet clothes. "You get to carry this," she said as she led us back out into the mall.

The last time I had been dressed as a girl in a mall had been with Cindy and Elaine. That time I had been able to relax and enjoy it. This time, I had no such luck. I was more aware than ever of everybody looking at me. I wasn't wearing any makeup or even girl's shoes. I was a boy in a dress, and I looked like it. I felt thoroughly humiliated.

With all the people there, it took us almost an hour to finish all the stores, and then we had to walk back through the entire length of the mall just to get back to the car. I was relieved and happy when we finally got home.

 

All that week, there was one thing about my appearance that Mom never seemed to be happy with, my hair. She fussed and fussed with it every day, trying to make it look better. Cindy had insisted that I let it grow out longer and it was at a totally impossible stage to do anything with.

The day before the New Years Eve party, Mom was again fussing with my hair when she suddenly cried, "I've had enough! This is impossible!"

She went directly to the phone, called her beautician, and asked if she could bring me right in. "Thank you so much," I heard her say at last before she hung up.

"Come on," she said to me, "we're getting your hair done."

As she walked out of the room to get her coat and purse she said, "Just leave what you've got on!" I was wearing a plaid skirt and a white blouse with a pink sweater over it. I was going out as a girl again.

When we walked into her beautician's shop, I noticed that the place was crowded. Her beautician greeted us as soon as we came in and said to me, "You must be Karen. Your mother has told me so much about you."

"Oh great!" I thought.

She led us to a chair inside and had me sit in it. "What did you have in mind?" she asked my mother.

"It just looks awful," Mom said. "It's too long for a boy's haircut and it's too short to do anything more feminine."

The beautician fussed with my hair for a few minutes, combing it this way and that. "I take it, you're letting it grow out?" she asked me.

"Yes I am," I answered.

"It's definitely a mess, but I think I can do something with it," she said to both of us.

"Thank you!" said Mom and she went over to sit down and wait.

The beautician took me over to another chair by the sink, tilted it back and washed my hair. Then she brought me back to my original seat and started working on it while it was still wet. She did a lot of fine clipping and kept combing my hair different ways. Then, eventually she picked up her blow dryer and started blowing and brushing my hair.

When she finished, she called Mom over again and said, "That's about all I can do with it right now. What do you think?"

Mom had a huge smile on her face. "Oh, that's much, much better," she said.

My seat had been turned away from the mirror the whole time so I had no idea what she had done. "Can I see," I finally asked with a little bit of apprehension in my voice.

"Of course," the beautician said as she turned my seat around.

My hair looked drastically different. She hadn't really cut much off of the length, just trimmed and shaped it a little. It seemed to have a lot more volume that it ever did before. The style resembled what I thought was a short pageboy, with bangs in the front. I thought it sort of looked Ok as a boy's style, but to be honest with you, I really thought it looked awfully feminine.

Mom took us out to dinner that night and this time I was careful to dress and look as much like girl as possible. Even with my hair done though, there still seemed to be no way that I could pass as a girl. Every time I looked in the mirror, I still saw a boy dressed up like a girl. A sissy! I really didn't notice as many people staring at me that night though, except whenever I picked up my baby bottle for a drink.

 

The next day, Mom and I spend all day cooking and cleaning, getting ready for the party that night. When I asked her what I should wear for the party, she smiled and said, "I've got something special picked out for you for tonight."

"What?" I asked.

"It's a surprise," was all she'd say.

I didn't know if I should be nervous or not, but the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got.

As it turned out, being nervous was the right choice. The party was supposed start around 9:30. At 8:00 Mom put me into the bath then went to get dressed while I was bathing. When I had gotten all washed and had just finished drying myself off, she came back. She diapered me heavily again then told me to wait while she got my outfit for the night. When she came back, she was carrying a shopping bag and a dress on a hanger. I couldn't believe the dress. It looked like a little girl's party dress. It was a soft pink that nearly matched the pink nail polish I was wearing and had lots of white lace all over it. The skirt was all puffed out with lots of netting underneath. Before I could say anything, Mom reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of white socks with lots of lace all over them.

"Ma-Ma," I said horrified. "Am I really supposed to wear that tonight?"

"Of course you are," she answered matter-of-factly. "Now put your feet in here," she said as she held one of the socks out for me to put my foot into. Mom put the socks on me then pulled a pair of black, patent leather mary-jane shoes out of the bag and put those on my feet.

Then came the dress. It seemed to be awfully short. "I had a friend of mine make this for you," she said as she buttoned me up in back. "Isn't it lovely?"

What could I say? "Yes, it is," I replied. "I'm just not sure about wearing it tonight in front of everybody," I added.

"It'll be fine," she answered. Mom put some makeup on me then took a hairclip out of the bag that had a big pink bow on it and fastened it in my hair. There were two ribbons hanging from it that she arranged down the back. She led me over to the mirror and asked, "What do you think?"

I looked like a little girl. An awfully big one, but still like a little girl. Then I realized that the dress was so short you could see the bottom of my diapers under it. "Ma-Ma," I cried "my diapers show!"

"Of course," she said, "that's the whole idea." I was mortified.

Then she reached into the bag again and brought out one last thing. She placed a satiny sash over my head and one shoulder. When I looked at in the mirror, I saw that it said "Happy New Year" on it. Then it all became clear to me. I was to be the New Years Eve "baby" for the party. The party was going to be all right after all.

"Ok, Honey," Mom said then, "give me a hand. We need to take all of your diapers and supplies downstairs."

"What for?" I asked.

"In case you need changing tonight," she said. "You're our New Year Eve baby for the night, and if anybody wants to 'change the baby,' I don't want them to have to climb way up here to do it. Now grab that whole stack of diapers there."

This was getting worse. I had no choice but to grab the diapers and follow her. It was bad enough having my own mother changing me like a baby all week long, but to have total strangers do it whenever they felt like it? I wasn't too sure about that. I resolved right then and there to try to hold back and not pee at all that evening. I didn't want to give anyone an excuse to have to change me.

We set up a "diaper changing area" in a little alcove off of the living room. There was a table in there that Mom had cleared off that was just big enough for me to lay down on. She put a pad on the table to protect it then neatly stacked all of my diapering supplies on an end table nearby. Then she went back upstairs to finish getting herself ready.

When she finally came back down stairs, she headed straight for the kitchen and got one of my baby bottles. She handed it to me and then put a pill in my hand and said "Swallow that."

"What is it," I asked.

"Something to help you," she said. "Now swallow!"

I swallowed the pill, washing it down with the milk from my bottle. It's very difficult to take pills that way. You have to suck and suck to get enough liquid out of the bottle to swallow the pills.

"I want you to finish that bottle right now," she said. "You have to take those with lots of liquid."

I dutifully sat down and drank the rest of the bottle, then she handed me another one. "For the rest of the evening, I don't want to see you without a bottle in your hands," she told me. "And I expect to see you drinking from it constantly. I'll be around to give you a fresh bottle every half hour or so and the bottle in your hand had better be empty by then. If it's not, I'm going to give everyone permission to spank you hard, with a hairbrush, on your bare bottom, every time it's not empty. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma-ma," I answered with my eyes wide open in shock.

The first guests arrived shortly after 9:30. Mom greeted everyone at the door as she let them in. Every single person laughed at me as soon as they saw me and there was no question at all that I was the major topic of conversation all night. It was right around the time the first guests arrived that I noticed the first signs that I had to pee. With all the liquid I would be drinking, I had no doubt that I would need changing sometime that night. Any further doubts were erased from my mind when I heard Mom telling one of her friends all about me and adding that she was definitely sure I would need lots of changing that night since she had given me a very powerful diuretic earlier. Now I knew what the pill was and what it would "help me" to do.

Lots of people came over and talked to me that night. They were all very curious about me and why I was dressed the way I was. Mom wasn't holding anything back so all I could do was to be honest with them and tell them the truth about my being a sissy. Mom was good as her word about replacing my bottles every half hour too. If she was too busy, she had a whole squad of other women who volunteered to handle the chore for her. Many of them insisted on feeding me the bottles themselves.

Between the constant supply of bottles to drink and the effects of that diuretic, I was peeing more and more. By 11:30, I think I was peeing every ten minutes or so. It was getting so that I could hardly control myself. Every time someone noticed my diapers sagging (and it happened a lot), one of the women took me by the hand and changed my diapers.

We had a big stack of diapers, but twice, Mom took a load of wet ones down to the washer to make sure there would be enough clean ones. By my third changing of the evening, I was pretty used to it and accepting of it. I was the center of attraction and it became just another constant event to endure.

At midnight everyone drank a toast (mine from my bottle) and hugged each other. After that everyone started leaving. By 1:00, the last of our guests had departed, the house was a mess, and Mom and I were both exhausted.

"Thank you," she said to me. "You were the hit of the party. You did everything I asked of you and I couldn't be happier."

"Thanks Ma-Ma," I said, "but I'm not sure I ever want to do that again. And I've never peed so much in my life! Whatever you gave me has got me to the point where I can hardly control myself anymore."

Mom laughed. "It's Ok Sweety. It'll wear off tomorrow. Now let's get you up to bed."

Mom changed my diapers downstairs since all the stuff was still there. She made the diapers extra, extra thick that night. I couldn't come close to closing my legs and I waddled up the stairs with a great deal of difficulty.

"Please, no more bottles tonight," I begged as Mom tucked me into bed.

"OK Honey," she said. "I think you've had enough tonight. Now goodnight."

 

When I woke up the next morning, my diapers were soaked, my nighty was soaked, and my bed was soaked. I had peed so much during the night that I had wet everything, despite all the diapers I was wearing. I jumped up out of bed and waddled toward my mother's room. "Ma-Ma," I called out as I approached her room.

"What is it Sweety?" she called out from her bed. "I've got a problem," I answered her. "I'm all wet, and my bed is all wet too. I peed so much last night that I made a mess of everything."

"Don't worry about it," she said getting out of bed, "we'll clean it all up right away. Little things like this are to be expected." She was certainly very kind and loving about it all.

As she led me to the bathroom to strip off my soaked diapers, I realized that I was peeing again. "Ma-Ma," I wailed. "I'm peeing again!"

"It's Ok," she said as she watched the pee running down my legs.

She stripped the diapers off of me, and set me to soaking in the bathtub while she stripped the sheets off of my bed. After I had been cleaned up, she once again very heavily diapered me to the point where I still couldn't walk right. Then she found a nice dress for me to wear, did my makeup and hair for me, and sent me down to start breakfast while she got dressed.

We spent the day together cleaning up from the party the night before. My peeing finally slowed down around lunchtime, but I don't really think it got back to normal until after dinner that night.

Since I would be leaving the next day, we spent part of the afternoon packing all my things and putting as much of it as possible in the car. I didn't say anything, but I couldn't help but notice that Mom made sure that all of Don's things were packed securely away and were among the first things to go out to the car.

As we were packing, Mom suddenly turned to me and said, "I need to talk to you I guess."

I just sat on the bed and listened to her, never saying a word.

"I owe you a little explanation about what I put you through this week," she continued. "As hard as it was for you, please believe that it was equally hard for me. No mother wants to have to humiliate her son the way I did you, but after my visit with you last month and the many phone conversations I had with Cindy, there were some things I just had to find out. I had to know just how much of a sissy you really were and just how much you really enjoyed it all. I think I have the answer now. Even though you complain, and do your best to avoid the humiliation, I'm sure that deep down inside, you really like it. You also seemed to become more and more comfortable with being Karen all the time. Even in public, the more you had to do something humiliating, the easier it seemed to get for you. I have no doubt that Cindy will have no trouble accomplishing her goal for you."

"Her goal?" I asked suddenly puzzled.

"She didn't tell you?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you but I feel that I owe you that much at least. Her goal is to have you wearing dresses to class every day before the end of the semester."

"I can't do that!" I said emphatically. "It's one thing to do this where nobody really knows me, but at school, everybody sees me every day! I have to live around those people. I won't do it!"

Mom just smiled at me and said, "Never the less, I'm betting she succeeds."

 

The next day, Mom diapered me heavily again before I left. As she put it, "Just one last time before you go." Then she had me wear a short plaid skirt, a matching top and sweater combination, high heels, makeup, and another bow in my hair. By the time I left, I was dressed as much like a girl as possible, except for my diapers.

It was still incredibly obvious that I was a boy dressed like a girl. I looked like the total sissy that I was. I knew it was going to be a long and humiliating drive home since I would have to stop and get gas as well as food.

As I finally kissed Mom goodbye and headed off for home, I was hoping that all those diapers I was wearing would be enough to get me through the trip. They were, but just barely.

 

Cindy had gotten home about an hour before I did and was there to meet me when I drove up. She got a real kick out of seeing me get out of the car dressed the way I was. She hugged me as I walked into the apartment and made a total fuss over how I was dressed. "Your mom told me she would be sending you home as Karen, but I couldn't believe it. By the way, I like what she's done with your hair."

She was so excited that she just kept talking and talking about how I looked, and about her Christmas, and about her conversations she had had with my mother, and about anything else she could find to say. I don't think I hardly had to say a word as we made repeated trips, with me still dressed the way I was, to empty the car.

As soon as we were done, I said to her, "Cindy, my diapers are really soaked and I'm afraid they'll leak if I don't change them soon. I haven't been allowed to wear anything but diapers all week. May I please wear some panties for a change?"

Cindy seemed surprised that I would even ask. To be honest with you, it surprised me that I had asked it. That week with my mother must have done something to me. Cindy just smiled and said, "Of course."

 

The weeks and months that followed seemed to pass like a blur. Schoolwork took up most of my attention, but Cindy, as ever, continually looked for new ways to humiliate me and bring out my sissy side. She loved the fact that I now had girl's jeans and shirts to wear that probably wouldn't get noticed if I was trying to be Don. She made sure I wore them often. There were many other things she made me do too. Like eventually she had me wearing a bra under my shirts to class. At least they were never stuffed and nobody ever noticed – at least I don't think anybody did.

I remember one time, when she decided we should spend the day at the mall again. It took a lot of persuading and threatening on her part, to do it, but she finally got me to go dressed the way she wanted. I was wearing one of my girl's button-down shirts with an unstuffed bra underneath and a pair of the girl's jeans but with pantyhose and high heels. When I went to put my wallet in my pocket before we left, I got a big shock. Cindy had sealed shut all of my pockets with some kind of iron on tape. "You'll just have to carry a purse today," she said. Just wearing high heels was bad enough, people wouldn't notice anything wrong if they were just looking at my top half, but carrying the purse added something else that was obvious. That and the feminine hair clip holding my hair back.

Another time, I was getting ready for class one morning and Cindy had me put on both a bra and some pantyhose. Just before it was time to leave, she ordered me to sit down. She took off my male shoes and the socks I had put on to cover the pantyhose, and replaced them with my black heels with the strap. I protested strongly, but she just smiled at me with an evil grin. After fastening the buckles on the shoes, she wasn't quite done. I hadn't noticed it, but she had made a small modification to my shoes. She had enlarged some of the buckle holes just slightly. Before I could get up and take the shoes off, she put small padlocks through one of the buckle holes on each shoe and snapped them shut. There was no way I could take the shoes off. I was horrified. "Have a nice day," was all she said as she went off to her class. I had no choice. I tried to get the shoes off, but there was no way. I was forced to spend the entire day at school wearing high heels. My pants covered the locks so nobody could see them, but everybody noticed the shoes.

 

And now, we're well into April and there are only three weeks left in the semester. Cindy still delights in humiliating me, and I seem to be falling deeper and deeper under her spell, and have less and less resistance to whatever she wants to do to humiliate me.

Right now, I'm wearing a matching bra and panty set with my falsies firmly in place. Several days ago, I once again "allowed" Cindy to glue up my penis and balls like she did so many months ago. She had to tie me down again to do it, but it got done. My shoulder length hair has a small ponytail sectioned off in the back that is tied with a ribbon. I'm wearing makeup with lipstick that matches the pink polish on my nails. My earrings are a pretty pendant style with garnets that match my ring, necklace, and bracelet. My skirt is short and tight, and my back-buttoning blouse is covered with lace. My shoes covering my nylon-clad feet are two-inch pumps.

Today, Karen is going to class for the first time… wish me luck!

  

  

  

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