Shirley; A Baby Girl

Shirley; A Baby Girl

I was in my second semester at the Tiffany School of Fine Art. Somehow I got accepted as a student here, not sure how it happened but happy it did none the less. I even received a partial scholarship in the process.

The school had an awesome curriculum, with one department solely concerned with Photography, my reason for being here. Not just taking photos but everything from the photo to the finished picture. That is the part I want to study and learn more about. I am into photography, not so much the actual taking of the picture, but the manipulation of it afterward. A lot of pictures that people take could be so much better if they are cleaned up some, removing elements that really do nothing for the photo. I was pretty good at it, having practiced the art for almost ten years now, hoping the school would allow me to get good enough to make a living from it.

The tuition for the school was pretty high, I was hoping to sell a few photos for my third semester tuition, but circumstances kept that from happening. The circumstances being quite pitiful. I had been lazy and not completed any photos sufficiently to sell. Yeah I had altered a few, but now all I had was a bunch of incomplete pictures. A few of them had a lot of promise, one of a woman putting on her lipstick is sex personified. Oh well, I have always been a little lazy, this time it threatened to end my education abruptly.

So now I was actively looking for a part time job to supplement my limited scholarship that I received. I had checked the classifieds many times in the last few days, just nothing there that would do me any good. Lots of fast food jobs, but the lazy part of me again eliminated most of them right off.

While at one of my classes, I spotted a sign that had been added to a bulletin board outside of the class. It wanted a nude model for an art student. Not my first choice but I was getting desperate. If I couldn’t make it at school I would be forced to quit my education and go to work for my father. He owned a construction company, specializing in apartment complexes, my brothers already working for him. I guess it would be alright, but unlike my brothers I was not the outdoor type, preferring to labor inside a building somewhere. Okay the main reason was a job with my father would require me to actually do physical labor. In my peculiar reasoning, something to be avoided at all costs.

I grabbed the sign, then after class called the number. A female answered, so I inquired about the job. She waited while I took a selfie and sent it to her, a requirement before she would meet me to talk about the job. She did stress that the job would take some time, she was doing a montage of paintings, each of the model in different settings. Her use of the word settings did not imply clothes, but subtle pieces of art that were blended into the pose that she had set for her model. She did remind me that I would be naked for long periods of time, usually four to five hours a session. After receiving the selfie, she agreed to meet me at the local student hangout two blocks from the school in an hour.

I was blown away when I saw her, her beauty and presence seemed to be all encompassing. She introduced herself, Patrice is her name and she has made a living from her portraits for ten years now. She was definitely no nonsense, right to the point, strict and uncompromising about what she would pay and what would be required of me. She wanted a contract that had a penalty for breaking it, since she was planning ten portraits using the same model, if I quit it would require her to start all over again. I understood her point, but the contract part seemed a little excessive.

Apparently I passed her first inspection and since I had agreed to her terms so far, the next step was for her to see me naked. I was taken to her home, a beautiful three story affair that had a sunny loft, where the painting would be done. In her studio, she set on a bar stool in front of her easel, waiting for me to strip off my clothes. Like I said a little demanding and obviously very sure of herself. I finally managed to get all of my clothes off, she got up and approached me, moving my arms, legs and erection to where she wanted it. Yes, being naked in front of her excited me to no end. As she maneuvered me into the pose she desired, it was all I could do to not come all over her hand.

I had no idea how to respond, it was done so matter of factly that I was left in quite a quandary. Several more times in the next half hour I was manipulated, then she would return to her easel and do some sketching. The last time she had me spread my legs, and moved my male member back in between my legs than had me close them. I was left with a flat front and a squashed male appendage. From time to time when it was touched it started to react, but my humiliation at being seen this way managed to pretty well keep things soft and flaccid, well at least not a full hard on. Something I was very thankful for. Talk about being humiliated, I am sure my face was several shades of red for the entire time I was in her studio.

At the local hangout she had mentioned a ten dollar an hour pay rate, a fact that I was thrilled about. After seeing me nude she has some other ideas that she would like to explore. Some of her ideas would require me to have some things done to me, nothing permanent and she would cover any costs of having them done. I started to question what she had in mind until she mentioned a twenty dollar per hour pay rate might be more appropriate for what she had in mind. Right there I forgot about what she just said, the twenty dollar pay rate the only thing registering in my mind. I think it is called selective hearing, an unfortunate trait of a lot of males, especially me.

I agreed to be her model, she wanted me here tomorrow afternoon, she would have the contract ready and after signing she would take me to a salon to get me ready to pose, a few minor changes to enhance my look. No posing tomorrow, all of this in preparation for the next day. She would pay me for my time at the salon but not the twenty dollar rate.

All of my classes were morning classes that jived with her painting schedule, so we agreed that I would pose from one to six daily unless an extra half hour might be needed to get to a stopping point. The weekends would remain free, some time off for me and for her to get her personal affairs handled.

She would pay me in cash every day, but also reminded me that if I backed out of the contract there would be a severe cash penalty for doing so. To insure my cooperation she wanted my first seven day’s pay held back, that being the penalty if I backed out. Since she had stressed this several times, I knew she was worried about me changing my mind later and leaving her high and dry. I tried to assure her that I would stay the course, until she had her paintings finished.

The next day arrived like most others, my classes were alright but the subject matter at this stage pretty boring. I went to her home and she had the contract ready. I read it through, nothing alarming in it. It was all spelled out clearly and concisely. Before I signed she held up another sheet of paper, on it is the things that will be done to me at the salon over time as per her wishes. I read through them then sat down hard on a chair, the closest one I could find. I now saw what she had in mind, my modeling would be done as a female, not as my male self. She went over it in detail explaining each treatment and why she wanted it done. Each painting would be a stage in a female’s development from girl of age twelve to a young woman in her late twenties.

“The first few treatments would be mainly hair related, removing your body hair and turning the hair on your head into that of a young female. Some light makeup, pierced ears and creating a vagina to make me the proper gender body wise. The salon she is using has a special process where my male organ is glued back between my legs, then a silicone prosthetic is applied over it. You will look just like a female, even requiring you to use the bathroom as one. Later as the paintings progress you will have some figure training done to develop a female body culminating in creation of breasts. Some makeup lessons, always subdued and only enough to help create the proper gender. This is for the later portraits as the subject matures into a young woman.”

“Due to the cost involved in your transformation it will be necessary to stay in the role until the portraits are finished. Thus her full disclosure now, so that you fully aware of what you are signing on for. Do you understand and have any questions?”

“No questions but I would like to think about all of this for a few minutes.” She showed me to a balcony that was shielded from the sun by her home, and told me to take my time. I sat on the lounge chair provided and leaned back and sighed. Lots of thoughts ran through my head for the span of time I was out there. I had no idea how long I was there, but it seemed to be forever.

I thought of my classes first, most of them were large classes, attendance taken and a graduate assistant actually giving the class. I doubt anyone would realize that I was different looking as long as I answered to my name when called. Since my name was obviously female, there would likely be no problem there.

My parents had named me Shirley, after an uncle on my mother’s side. I really had sympathy for my uncle living with that name for his whole life. I guess in Europe, mainly Great Britain, that name is often used for either gender, here in America not at all. Well since it is my name, so the not at all part seems mute now. At an early age I somehow picked up the nickname of Sly, don’t ask me how it happened, but I have went with that name most of my life. I was told it was a cousin of about five that had tried to say my name and came out with Shy but slurred. It quickly morphed to Sly and for some reason it stuck.

I had very few friends, tending to stay to myself, most of my fellow students so wrapped up in themselves that they seldom noticed anybody elses presence. I imagined especially in the later stages that dressing as a male would be unpractical, so I needed to ask about a wardrobe. Buying female clothes for a couple of month’s job might be the deal breaker. Letting out a big breath, then straightening my shirt I made my way back into the loft.

She was at her easel. As I approached I was flabbergasted at her painting. It was me apparently as a young female. The detail was phenomenal to me, although I was not an art critic. I stood there watching as she filled in parts of my body with her sketching pencil. I was fascinated at her skill, I could handle images from a camera, but to create an image from thin air was way beyond anything I could even dream of.

She stopped and asked if I decided. I stuttered a few words, but I think she was part psychic, as she managed to figure out what I was asking. “I will furnish you a wardrobe, as befits a young woman, everything including undergarments, just no evening gowns or sports clothes.”

I blushed, way more than I wanted to know. I had totally forgotten about underwear. I made a quick decision, I hope it is one I can live with for the next month or two. “Yes I will model for you, just please allow me a little time to get used to all of this, maybe if we don’t talk about it for a few days I can get my head around this and not end up in a mental ward. She showed me where to sign, then giving me copies we were off to the salon. Within an hour of signing I was naked on a table, my body hair being chemically removed. I was offered several options, I chose the permanent removal method using a cream to do the job. No further hair regrowth would be possible with this treatment. I was never wild about having body hair, it is uncomfortable and unsightly. Now with this treatment a mute subject. Next my female vagina was secured to my lower anatomy, junior now glued back between my legs for the duration of the portraits. Thankfully they used a spray on the area, to numb things, otherwise I was not sure how I would make it through that process.

No difference as I was lying there, but when I stood and tried walking it felt very different. My legs brushed against each other the whole length of my thighs, something that has never happened before. It was not unpleasant, just very different. The feeling that something was missing did prevail though, I even reached my hand down there several times in an attempt to grope the missing appendage. All my hand found was a slit, warm and somewhat moist. I nearly inserted my finger in the slit, till my mind relayed that it was now a part of me and the desire quickly abated. Of course, just the thought of having a vagina now made for a rich blush, spreading from my face to most of my body.

Then they started on the hair on my head, washing and conditioning it then setting it in curlers after evening up the ends. I spent some time under a dryer, wondering how much a change curly hair will make in my appearance. When my hair was dry, I was moved back to the styling chair and my ears were pierced. Followed by my eyebrows being waxed, not a lot being waxed away, but enough to make me look more feminine.

Looking at the mirror in front of me Sly was gone, a female me was all I saw in the image. I had the genitals of a female, but otherwise I looked quite a bit younger, undeveloped just like a young female. The hair and my thin eyebrows made my face look quite feminine, I presume that is what Patrice saw in me after our first meeting. Thus the change in gender for her portraits.

While I was being worked on Patrice had done some shopping. As Ginger finished my alterations Patrice entered with several bags of things for me to wear. My male confidence was gone, replaced with a vulnerability that I was not used to. Suddenly my nakedness bothered me, my hands quickly trying to cover as much of my body as possible. Even though my smallish body had never bothered me, the lack of body hair and a male organ made me cringe, my hands quickly trying to cover my female slit and my now hairless chest.

When Patrice handed me a pair of panties I quickly grabbed them and pulled them up my legs. Meanwhile Patrice was giggling away. A couple of times she asked me to try and remember my thoughts, my look then would be perfect for one of the portraits. My knees almost gave out as I reached for the edge of the table I had been lying on to keep me from face planting on the floor. The feeling of the silky panties on my bare legs way too much for my mind to handle. I received a camisole next, Patrice helping me get it on, my legs still wobbly and unable to support me. Again the silkiness doing a job on my composure.

She searched in her bags for the next item, I was hoping for a pair of pants and a shirt. Instead I got a very short dress, all frilly and lacy. I stepped into it, as she helped me pull it up so that my arms could go into the sleeves. After it was situated on my shoulders she zipped up the back leaving me encased in the femininity of the dress. It was a pink print fabric, very silky and delicious feeling on my body. The worst part it only came to mid thigh, leaving way too much of my legs showing. I tried in vain to pull on the hem to get it to cover more of my leg, but to no avail.

She led me out to her car and we made the trip back to her house. I was quiet, trying to handle all the new feelings and sensations that were assaulting my mind. Once at her home, I asked to use her balcony again, I needed some time to adjust. I must have set out there for the better portion of an hour, lost in thought, often rubbing my hands over what I was wearing. Patrice came to get me and we found some seats in her living room. For the first time I was aware of my surroundings, the room decorated very feminine, a collection of knick knacks tastefully displayed on shelves and cabinets. The décor was functional but elegant, using a lot of different fabrics to give the impression of feminine elegance.

She asked if I was alright. My quietness and reserved behavior worrying her a little. I managed a reply in the positive, it was just that everything had kind of overwhelmed me. She made another offer to me, since she had been able to observe my behavior the last few days. I could use her spare bedroom, located on the ground floor, with a separate entrance. That way she would be handy to help if needed and I would not be exposed to my neighbors where I presently lived. I asked if she was sure, then launched myself at her thanking her for saving me from certain humiliation. I did get some special hugs, savoring each and every one from her. I looked female, but acting like a female was something I knew nothing about. She spent some time with me that afternoon giving me the basics, then made me practice so that I could attend my classes in the morning.

Later she took me to my apartment to gather essentials, all of my male clothing and personal effects left in the apartment. While there I paid one month’s rent in advance saving me a trip later to do so. Patrice’s home was within walking distance of the school, so I would most likely walk to school most days. If it was raining I would drive.

I got settled in her spare bedroom, quite large and decorated in a very feminine manner. She had bought me a few more mainstream clothes to wear to classes, so I breathed a little easier as I hung them in my closet. She did want me to wear a training bra, so that I would get used to the restriction around my chest. After a few days of wearing it, even posing nude I would miss its embrace and that was the look and feeling she was going for. Once it was on I doubted I would miss its embrace, but by bedtime I was not even aware I was wearing one.

The nude posing would start tomorrow, someone from the salon to come and put my hair in pigtails, not a difficult task. It was the myriad of ribbons that went along with the style that would take time. I did manage to get to sleep shortly after I laid down, but was up at the crack of dawn anxious to get to the day’s activities. Imagine me anxious to shed my clothes and pose nude for hours. Oh well, it is a slippery slope, once on it is all downhill.

No classes so a few cookies to nibble on and I was soon summoned to have my hair put in pigtails. It took over an hour to weave in the many pink ribbons then finish the pigtail with a bow at the end of each pigtail. One look in the mirror and I let out a groan, I looked three years old, if that and so feminine. A light coating of a pink lipstick, and two swipes of a mascara brush and I was pronounced done. Up to her loft, my clothes removed and then she posed me sitting among a group of huge cuddly teddy bears. I can imagine how I looked, a larger than life little girl, playing with her plush animals. I imagine my cheeks were sufficiently red already, the smile on Pat’s face reflecting on how pleased she was with the sight before her.

I doubted my blush ever left my face, but Pat’s asking me to kiss the teddie always heightened the color a little. My lipstick was refreshed often, I doubted I needed it but Pat did get a lot of enjoyment as she did so. Since it was Saturday there were no time restrictions, other than Pat wanting to sketch the basic of the painting while my femininity was so fresh in her mind. Sunday would be an off day then resume the normal schedule for the following week. Pat did comment on my squirming, realizing she would have to do something to stop most of it for the following sessions. I pleaded that everything was so different now, not being aware of how that statement would soon bite me in the butt.

Her solution was to stay dressed as a little girl all day, my pigtails staying in until classes Monday. So reluctantly I was a young girl all weekend, even made to take a nap in the afternoon with my teddie. Both days seemed so long, the hours slowly creeping by. I was even fed some baby food, Pat getting a lot of enjoyment at the faces I made as she hand fed me. By late Sunday I had got used to the dresses and was no longer aware of my hair in pigtails. Note to self, keep my mouth shut in the future.

Monday I overslept, even after all the naps and early bedtimes of the weekend I was so out of it. Pat came to help me get ready for my classes, since I only had a few minutes to get ready and across the campus. She ended up giving me a ride to class, with me so unaware of what I was wearing. As I entered the classroom I did not realize I was still in a juvenile dress and my hair still in pigtails. I had not undressed after Sunday, the dress comfortable as I fell asleep in it.

Since she had dropped me off I was stuck, not having time to get back to her house and change even if I ditched this class. I received many stares and also a lot of compliments on my clothes and hair style from the girls in the class. The predominantly male class members snickered, then pointed in my direction and made some faces at me. I did what any young female might do and stuck out my tongue at them. I got a lot of laughs at that, but soon I was ignored by them as the professor entered the room.

The professor was a very attractive woman, well built and obviously proud of her figure since the clothes she wore accented it to the max. She gave me a look, then smiled, asking me to see her after class. She knew her subject well so there was little time to goof off or anything else while in her class. In her class, I even had trouble keeping up with her, my notes after her class many pages long and quite detailed.

I waited in my seat until all the students had filed out, then approached her desk. She looked me over more closely not missing any part of my dress or hair. “Are you posing for Patrice or is this just your new style of dress? You look so cute, I could just eat you up right here. Anyway to get to the important matters. If you are free on the weekends can you pose for me, I will match what Pat is paying you and will furnish free meals. I will even pick you up at Pats then return you there Sunday night if you agree.”

I managed a yes, then the bell rang and I had to skip to my next class. Why I skipped down the hall instead of running I may never know. It just seemed the thing to do. My pigtails bouncing around my head and the ribbons swaying to and fro just seemed to dictate my juvenile actions. Not as much reaction to my looks in this class, although all of the girls were appraising my new look and smiling.

The next class was watching a movie on developing high speed film, so I ignored the movie and tried to put together what exactly had happened this morning. All I came up with is how much I had humiliated myself, and now had obtained a second job for the weekends, but not sure if that was good or bad. I had no idea what I was to model if it was nude again or a juvenile female.

Since she took a liking to my appearance in class, I imagine I will be in dresses all weekend, frilly little dresses fit for a very young female. I let out a big sigh, the slope I am on is getting slicker by the minute, I wonder if I will even be able to return to being a male eventually. The bigger question was after months of this will I want to return to the male gender.

Once classes were done for the day, back to Patrice’s and then shed my clothes. She had me keep on the training bra, to be only removed when she was sketching that portion of my body. According to her my look and actions when I had it on were perfect for her portrait. After five hours we called it quits and she ordered some pizza to be delivered for us to share. She asked if Laura, the professor had hired me. It turns out they know each other, often sharing models or ideas for future portraits. Patrice smiled and asked if Laura had told me how I would be attired for my session posing for her. I shook my head no, then Patrice giggled, mentioning I might be quite surprised. I did ask if posing for her involved clothes, the giggle again, yes a few small things, I am sure you will like what you get to wear. I tried and failed to get any more information out of her, but she did say she will drop by Saturday to see me posing in person.

I thanked her for the pizza, then slipped on my dress and went to my room downstairs. My mind did recognize that I just referred to the dress as mine, something to contemplate later. I had some homework to finish so set at the small vanity in my room and worked on it. I did wonder several times what Laura would be dressing me as, but nothing came to mind. I knew she liked the juvenile dress I wore to class, so maybe something along those lines.

By Friday Patrice had finished the first portrait, only nine more to go. She did pay me rather than withhold the first week’s pay, I presume she knew I wasn’t going to leave her in the lurch, staying in her room downstairs kind of foolish if I was going to run off. At Friday’s class Laura had asked me to wear the juvenile dress when I came to her place. She gave me the address and how to get there, but suggested it might be better if I allowed her to pick me up at Patrice’s place. We agreed on her picking me up, at nine the next morning. I worried most of the night about Laura and her idea of what I would wear. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, waking late and having to hurry and put my dress on. Laura was waiting downstairs for me, a huge smile on her face.

The trip to her house did not take long, actually it was only a few blocks from Patrice's. I was shown in, then a brief tour of the house. It is pretty impressive, from the look of it Laura is making some substantial money. Again a loft for where she does her art work, with me noticing immediately there are no art supplies, just banks of lights and several cameras on tripods. Then my eyes focused on the huge plush animals laying everywhere and the crib and playpen towards the side of the room. I was led to a changing table, helped up on it and soon my panties were sliding down my legs. It took all that time for me to realize I was soon to be diapered, the baby powder sprinkled over my groin a sure indication of what was to come.

Unfortunately the diaper was not the only thing I was to wear. She slipped a camisole over my shoulders, then a next to nothing juvenile dress that buttoned up the back. The dress she was helping me into much more feminine than the one I had worn over here. A pair of booties were next, like a baby might wear, although sized to fit my feet. A pair of mittens were slipped on my hands, the strap closure fitting snug around my wrist. I was helped to the floor, and told that I was to crawl any where I wanted to go, not ever to try standing. I was to play with the stuffed animals and dolls until it was time to be fed, then after a warm bottle of milk, a nap in my playpen would be needed. She will be taking pictures as they became available, though I was to ignore the camera and just concentrate on being a little girl. Another sigh, then she swatted my butt to get me to move toward my waiting plush animals. I crawled over to a huge teddy bear, then attempted to cuddle it. The mittens made doing the simplest things difficult, so I ended up in the teddy bears lap, his one arm over my back. I looked over toward one of the cameras to see the flash going off repeatedly with a huge smile on Laura’s face. I tried to move forward to a lion that was next to the teddy bear, losing my balance as I crawled over the teddy bears leg, ending up on my stomach and my head wedged in between the lion’s legs.

This continued for quite some time before Laura called a halt to the play period. I was placed in a playpen, having to crawl into it, then one side closed leaving me inside. I never tried to stand up, once up all I had to do was step over the playpen sides and walk away. The thought never entered my mind, I was drowsy and wanting my bottle. I was given a bottle of warm milk, its nipple placed in my mouth and her rubbing my throat causing me to start sucking on the bottle. I have no idea why I drank the warm milk, it was my intention to just drink a little of it then stop. As I finished the bottle I closed my eyes and drifted off, still sucking on the nipple.

When my tummy was rubbed I opened my eyes seeing both Laura and Patrice looking at me with huge smiles on their faces. I was shown some of the pictures Laura had taken, truly amazed at how they turned out. I looked just like a larger than life infant girl playing with her toys and sleeping in her crib. Even the shots with me sucking on a baby bottle were cute. I got hugged by Patrice and kissed on the nose before she went back home. Laura checked my diaper then nestled me in the crib with several of my fuzzy friends. Another bottle and I was soon asleep.

Waking up the next morning was surreal, looking around me at the larger than life animals and then at my clothes it took me a few minutes to figure out where I was. I then came to the realization that I was wearing a diaper and I was soaking wet. Laura to the rescue as I was helped up onto the changing table and she changed my diaper. I was hoping for some other type of clothing for today, but it seemed to not be in the cards.

After getting changed I looked around the studio to see that all of my fuzzy friends had been replaced with dolls dressed like I was and almost the same size as me. Some lipstick on my lips and I was soon sat in the middle of the dolls while she snapped picture after picture of me. I have no idea why I put up with this, what I was wearing and the diapers so weird for a young male to experience. I tried to broach the subject with her, but something always came up to postpone the conversation. Once as I was getting ready to ask her about getting me out of the diapers she placed a larger than life pacifier in my mouth and kissed the end of my nose. Well that short circuited my brain and no coherent thoughts emerged for quite a while.

I finally made it to Sunday night, Laura paying me for my time and then delivering me back to Patrice’s still in my cute dress and diaper. Patrice was there to welcome me back, taking the diaper bag from Laura then leading me into the apartment that Patrice let me use. I noticed a crib where the bed used to be, otherwise everything seemed the same. A large sigh escaped my lips as I was led to the crib, my cute little dress removed and my diaper changed. Patrice had laid a changing pad on the floor and that is where I laid while my diaper was being changed. I tried to complain, but the pacifier or one similar to what I had at Laura’s was inserted. I started sucking on it, somehow sucking on it was comforting and calming.

Another morning and another surprised wakening while I tried to remember how I came to be in the crib and in diapers. As I was laying there contemplating my fate, Patrice came in with a baby bottle, checked it for being warm on her wrist and then slipped into my mouth. I tried to protest her actions, but instead was soon sucking the warm milk into my tummy. Meanwhile she was changing my diaper, putting a plastic panty over the diaper. Then a frilly panty, with row after row of lace evenly spaced on the back side of the panty. I was sat up in the crib, a pacifier inserted in my mouth then another frilly juvenile dress slid over my head. It had buttons up the back and a huge ribbon bow that tied in the back. She removed the pacifier from my mouth, then applied some lipstick. Pacifier back in place and she worked on my pigtails straightening and fluffing up the ribbons that were intertwined with my hair. I was dragged out to her car and placed in an over sized infant seat and buckled in. Then taken to the college and dropped off outside the building where my first class would be held. Unbuckled from the infant seat and then helped out of the car. She straightened my dress put my pacifier on a ribbon around my neck and kissed me on the tip of my nose. She then got back into her car and drove away, while I stood there in shock. About that time I felt my groin get wet, then turned several shades of red. I had just peed in my diaper, without any control what so ever. I just stood there trying to decide what to do, eventually walking towards my first class, the wet diaper very much evident. One of my female classmates saw me, came over and hugged me, then dragged me the rest of the way into the class. She saw the pacifier around my neck and before she returned to her seat she placed it between my lips, smiled and went to sit down. Nothing was said to me, but I received lots of attention from every member of the class. I usually get called on in this class, but the teacher just ignored me not wanting to upset me and make me cry. Another female took my hand and led me to my next class, making sure I had my pacifier before she went to her seat.

After that class I did make it outside by myself to see Patrice waiting for me. As she came to collect me I was sucking on the pacifier energetically, like it was my salvation in this new world. Once in the infant seat and buckled in I was handed a baby bottle, grabbing it with both hands and eagerly consuming its contents. Once at home I was removed from the infant seat and taken to my room, laid on the floor and she changed my diaper. Never once did I say anything to her, assuming all of this like it was an everyday occurrence. I was soon to learn it will be such from now on.

Once changed I was taken up to her loft and placed on the floor. My fuzzy friend, the big teddy bear was brought over and I hugged it like a long lost friend. So there I sat, my arms wrapped around the bear and totally nude except for my diaper and frilly panties. My hair still in pigtails and with a freshly applied coat of lipstick on my lips. I saw her painting and I was in and out of sleep as the afternoon progressed. Another bottle for dinner and then my diaper was changed. I was put to bed, a onesie now covering my little body. Again the pacifier and I was soon dreaming of bears, dolls and my next delicious bottle of milk.

I never did attend any more classes, too busy modeling for Patrice and Laura. Laura was able to retire from teaching, making enough from my pictures to do so easily. Patrice never did finish the rest of the portraits she wanted to do, but instead started painting portraits of Shirley with her numerous dolls and fuzzy friends. I think I heard her say she will never be able to catch up to the demand for her paintings of me and my friends.

Well that was not all I was occupied with, since I had lots of toys to play with each requiring some of my time every day. Then there is the baby bottles of milk that had to be consumed, which in turn made my diapers wet requiring changing often.

I did realize deep down what had happened, I had been encouraged to become an infant girl, diaper dependent and getting all of my nourishment from a baby bottle. Patrice and Laura do take good care of me, with me never wanting for anything. Every once in a while I am shown a bank account statement with the name Shirley on the top of it. The number of zeros in the number is more than my little mind can perceive. Suffice to say I will never be hurting for money, but then I don’t need any as long as I have my two mommies to care for me.

It is a different life, that is for sure, but one I do enjoy, being hugged, bathed and of course having my diaper changed. To think it all started when I answered an ad to pose nude. Maybe not a life for everyone, but for me just perfect. The name now fits, Shirley a baby girl.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Felice: Cutest Sissy Ever

Felice: Cutest Sissy Ever

My wife was all excited as she entered the house. Bouncing up and down while eyeing me up. “Since you have been unemployed for so long this will get you back in the work force some, the job is super easy and you should have no difficulty with it.” She had a colored flier in her hands, pink in color with a picture of a juvenile looking female on the upper right hand corner of it. She handed it to me, watching me closely as I read what was printed on the flier. After getting half way down the sheet I quickly handed it back to her and retreated several feet, wanting nothing to do with this crazy idea of hers. As if backing away from her will save me from being sucked into her plan.

Well, time for her to unleash the big guns, her husband not having a chance to avoid this. I was dragged to the couch and pushed down on it, with her positioning herself right next to me. She now had both of my hands in hers and was leaning in to deliver a sizzling kiss. Not a quickie but a long tantalizing smooch with tongue.
I let out a huge sigh, once again I will probably be coerced into this, her assault on my senses always works. I might protest a little but in the end I am putty in her hands. After I was left a smoldering mess on the couch she smiled. Compliance was now assured, time to proceed to the rest of this scenario. Just like that I had unknowingly agreed to her wishes, even though not a single word had escaped my lips. I did get a heartfelt thanks for agreeing to become a sissy, a softer and more passionate kiss delivered along with several gropes of my little fella to help seal the deal.

She left me on the couch, since she needed to do some shopping for me, things to obtain so that I could qualify for the cutest sissy contest. I sat there for the longest time just staring at the wall, hoping that I will soon awake from this bizarre nightmare. After closing my eyes several times and re-opening them the nightmare was still here. I found the flier and read it over again, this time trying to figure out just what this job was and how a contest had anything to do with the job.

It was a contest for the cutest Sissy, the top ten contestants getting jobs promoting sissy clothes and makeup for a chain of stores supplying those items. That same company also has an internet presence and ships worldwide if required. The job was five days a week, eight hours a day modeling clothes and makeup at malls and at their stand alone stores. The pay is three hundred a week, once selected all beauty services, makeup and clothing furnished by the company. Each model will be accompanied by a company representative to assist in clothing changes and help with makeup and accessories. They will also furnish transportation to the venue and see to the care and feeding of the cute sissy.

It sounded pretty good on paper other than me having to portray a sissy. I no doubt will be able to look like one, my small stature and lack of anything looking like muscle sure to assist in my portrayal. Allowing my hair to grow out probably a big mistake now, but recently there have been precious little funds for a haircut. My figure was pretty much straight up and down, along with no muscles I didn’t have an ounce of fat on me. Arms and legs skinny very similar to my wife’s. I was pretty sure with some lipstick and a little makeup, I could easily be considered a female or in this particular case, a Sissy.

Libby, my wife had a good paying job, plus the flexibility to work pretty much when she wanted. It was a supervisory position with her riding herd on approximately three hundred employees. I meanwhile had been laid off five months ago, and despite doing everything in my power to find another job, was still without one. Not even a second interview with anyone, my skills if any were not desired by any company. A brief look at my resume and I was sent on my way, being told there were no positions available.

A while later Libby, came bouncing in again, her arms loaded with bags of shopping, I wondered if the store had anything left. I noticed the logo on the bag said Turnabout Sissy, where all of the pretty Sissies shop at. Crap all of these clothes are for me. I was hustled into the bathroom, all of the bags of clothing left in our bedroom. I found myself naked faster then I even realized was possible. While I was being undressed the tub was filling, the water smelling like perfume. I was helped into the tub and then told to stay, like you might tell a puppy when training them. The water felt good, so I was a good puppy and stayed.

I heard her in the bedroom, not sure what she was doing and probably not wanting to know. She came back a little later and washed me thoroughly, from my hair on the top of my head to my toes. Yes, even there got washed. She had never bathed me before, a new experience altogether. I tried to do it myself, but she would have nothing to do with that line of thinking. My few attempts met with a slap on my arm and a warning to just sit there. The warning was delivered in a voice she seldom used with me, one that I instantly obeyed. I was dried off, then dragged to the bedroom.

My closet door was open, the emptiness of it shocked me. All of my male clothes now gone somewhere. So my choices now were severally limited, cooperate to be dressed as a sissy or go naked.

She wanted to see how my new things fitted, so one piece after another was tried on me, most put back on the bed a couple of pieces placed back into a bag, probably to be returned. The few chances I got to see me in the article of clothing was depressing, my male image totally gone, a young female all there was to be seen. I use the words young female very loosely, I am not sure what you call a female that has just started school. Maybe in a couple of the dresses graduated from kindergarten might be a more appropriate analogy. Other than my size I looked like one of those young females.

After she went through all of her purchases, I was dressed in one of the frilliest dresses and taken to her car. No underwear, no shoes, just a pair of flip flops, nothing else. A short drive and we pulled up in front of her beauty salon. I had in the past dropped her off here for her appointment but I had never been in the salon itself. Well, there is a first time for everything and no matter how I protested or tried to delay her from getting me in there I found myself in front of their reception desk, blushing twenty different shades of red.

One of the other techs came up front to escort me back to a treatment room, while my wife signed the permission slips for my treatments today. I apparently was considered a young child by the salon, my apparent mother signing for me to have the treatments. Larger than any female child, but definitely not looking very adult like.

My dress was removed, as my whole body turned a bright shade of red, being naked in front of someone other than my wife quite embarrassing. Nothing was said about the male appendage in my groin, it was ignored like it didn’t exist.

First on the agenda was removing all of my body hair, a cream slathered over my body and left on for thirty minutes. Libby had returned to supervise my transformation smiling as my body is covered in the cream. Then I had to stand there as the cream did its job, naked and totally exposed. I willed my little fella to stay soft, the time or two I saw my reflection in the mirror he seemed to have shriveled up to nothing. Finally the cream is wiped off, my sparse body hair with it. The tech seeing my expression on my face told me not to worry, the cream removal is permanent, no need to repeat the treatment later. I stared at Libby, she just smiled and winked at me.

While the tech is preparing my next treatment I asked Libby about the money for the clothes and my treatments, wouldn’t it have been better to have saved that rather than take a chance on me winning the contest. Another larger than normal smile, the store and the salon have donated their services and clothing, since they are sure I will be among the top ten finalists. So none of this is coming out of our finances, you can rest easy there. Face it, you are going to be the cutest sissy ever and soon thereafter popular and famous.

When the tech came back into the room, she was carrying a tray of things, sitting it on the table next to where I was laying and then helping my feet into some stirrups she had pulled out from the end of the table. She used a strap to secure them in the stirrups, then spread them wide so she could work on my groin. I started pleading and begging right away, fearing where this was headed. Libby held up a gag, the implication clear and unavoidable. I shut up, maybe it will not be as bad as I feared.

For the next hour my little fella was handled and manipulated till he was secured to a spot on my groin. I had lost feeling down there, having to lift my head some to even be able to see what was being done. When I didn’t see him sticking out any more, I knew it was too late. Then when the tech glued a silicone vagina over the area, I knew my time as a male is over. What I now saw down there is the same thing Libby has, not even a little patch of hair, just two puffy lips surrounding a slit. I closed my eyes, a few tears emerging and sliding down my cheek. It might still be there somewhere, but anyone looking down there only seeing a female sex in its place.

The tech moved to my hair next washing and conditioning it then cutting it into a feminine style. The style left most of the length, but on my forehead I was now sporting bangs. The remaining hair was formed into two pigtails, one on each side of my head. The pigtails were secured with some ribbon, the ends of the ribbon hanging down with the pigtailed hair. She used a curling iron to add some curls to the bottom of the pigtail. The resulting image in the mirror across the room very juvenile looking. I looked like a larger than life little girl, maybe four or five years old. Not a desired look for a young male.

Some makeup was applied, just mascara for my eyelashes, rouge for my cheeks, and lipstick for my lips. Everything in a pale pink except for the lashes, those in a dark brown. The mascara mainly used to lengthen the lashes for that cute innocent sissy look.

When the tech told Libby it was semi-permanent I was shocked, but Libby explained it would wear off in two to three months. Since it had already been applied it was a mute point anyway. I hope I do get the job, otherwise job hunting is going to be even more difficult, the image in the mirror in front of me quite feminine, well once you get past the little girl look.

I did get a pair of panties to wear home, the snugness of them against my flat groin a little unsettling for me. The dress I wore to the salon was slipped back on me, the total look now very sissy like.

Then Libby had another surprise for me, a harness like you see on a lot of small kids, a way for a parent to help control her little child. It was fixed on me and the straps buckled up. My arms and hands were caught up in the harness, so I had no way to avoid being led away. She attached a leash to it and we were off. In her car I was secured, the seat belt and the harness making it impossible for me to get loose. Instead of heading back home she drove us to the local mall. I was shaking my head no as she helped me out of the car and then grabbed the leash and led me straight to the mall entrance. Once inside I tried to keep behind her, not wanting to be seen like this. She headed straight to a store on the upper level of the mall. I am sure I was stared at as she led me along, but I tried to ignore any looks or comments. As we entered the store I saw the sign in the front window, Turnabout Sissy. Oh gawd, now what. I was led to the back where they had set up a booth to take pictures and sign up the prospective sissies for the contest.

With her still holding the leash for my harness I couldn’t disappear. She filled out the entry form, then the photographer took a multitude of pictures of me. I was handed a lollipop for a few of the pictures, then a doll to hold for a few more. Libby was all smiles as several of the mothers of the other sissies made the remark that they were sure I would be among the finalists. Since we were in the sissy store, my dress was changed then I was paraded around in front of the store, a preview of my job if I am among the finalists. There were several of us modeling the dresses, although I seemed to draw the most attention from the small crowd watching the show. Back in the dress I wore to the mall and then headed to her car. The damn harness re-fastened around me before we left the store.

I was left in the living room still in the damn harness, my arms entangled in the straps. I heard her in our bedroom wondering what she was doing there. Since my male clothes were gone, I couldn’t think of anything more she could be doing. About thirty minutes later she reappeared and led me back there. I stopped at the door, seeing a crib now on the wall next to our bed. I had seen the crib before, her sister had used it for her last child, even though it was larger than a normal crib. I think the crib had been stored at her parent’s house, now her parent’s probably knowing about the sissy contest. It just seems to get worse with every passing moment.

I immediately started begging to end this scenario, not wanting to even think of being put in the crib for a nap. My guardian angels were on a break, as she led me over to the crib. She let down one side, had me sit on the edge of the crib mattress, then undid my harness. I started to get up, but a sensuous kiss stopped me in my tracks. The mittens from earlier were slipped on my hands, I was leaned back as she diapered me then fastened a strap over my chest to keep me from falling out of the crib. The crib was a little small for my body, so I ended up with my legs to the side of me and crunched up some, like I was being cuddled. A baby bottle of milk appeared from nowhere and she rubbed my throat to get me to start sucking it into my mouth. The last I remember of anything was when the bottle seemed empty and had fallen to the side of my face. She had turned on a mobile above my head and that along with the bottle of milk had put me to sleep.

When I awoke I realized I had wet my diaper, the wetness cold and thoroughly spread through out the diaper. I tried to call out to Libby, not wanting to be stuck in the wet diaper any longer. The first words out of my mouth were far from understandable, sounding like utterances from a baby. The pitch of my voice was higher, also weaker. I tried to swallow to get my normal voice back, but if anything it got higher and more garbled.

Libby did come and change my diaper, but left me pinned to the mattress of the crib. I now smelled like baby powder, and thankfully I was dry for awhile. As she left I received a kiss on the nose, even though I was waving my arms around trying to get her to release me. Apparently it was not to be. She did return a few minutes later with another baby bottle in her hands. I tried to refuse the bottle, but she had other ideas. It was held to my lips, then when I failed to open my mouth she pinched my nose causing me to open my mouth wide. The bottle was inserted, then a few strokes of her hand on my throat caused me to start sucking the milk into my mouth. I feared the contents of the bottle were causing my voice problems, and my failure to be able to control my bladder. Too late now to avoid the milk, much of the bottle now empty. Several minutes later I was sound asleep, dreaming of all things sissyish, wearing one of my new dresses. My teddy bear under my arms clutched tightly to my body.

When I awoke, I was released from the crib, then led to the living room. Right in the center of the room was a play pen. I put on the brakes, fearing that is where I will be put in shortly. Sure enough that is what happened, then the top of the playpen was swung into place. Secured in place I was now trapped. With the mittens on I couldn’t do anything to escape. I did get a teddy bear to play with, boredom eventually making me pick it up and started playing with it. I even talked to it, my voice now high and child like.

The following days were a repeat, crib at night, then a playpen during the day. A different dress everyday, and of course diapers all the time. By now I had lost any control of my bladder not even realizing I had wet the diaper until the liquid had spread through the diaper and was turning cold.

It was two days later when Libby received a phone call asking her to bring me to the sissy store.

Dressed in one of my new dresses, with Mary Jane shoes on my feet, my makeup refreshed and the damn harness secured to my body I was led to her car. In the back seat I noticed a child’s seat, something new. Sure enough, I was helped into it and fastened in. I just stared out the window, all of this just too much for my small mind to deal with. At the mall I was helped out of the seat, then led to the sissy store. There was quite a crowd gathered, but one of their managers saw us coming and we were led through the crowd right into the store. I noticed a bunch of fellow sissies on a stage set up at the back of the store. I joined them, the harness removed, and a badge stating my name and sissy age was hung around my neck. I was to be called Felice, five years old and not potty trained yet. When I read that I turned instantly red, My supposed need for a diaper made known to everyone. Of course, right on cue I felt a release and figured out I had just peed in my diaper. No control whatsoever, the warm moist liquid spreading through the diaper the first I knew of what I had just done.

I was one of the finalists, when it was announced I let out a huge sigh, the life of a sissy going to be with me forever.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Babykins; My Contribution To The Family

Babykins; My Contribution To The Family

We were a typical family among some that were not. Dad started off as a carpenter, working on building new houses. Then he specialized in bathrooms and kitchens as his experience grew. Now that he is up in his forties, he started playing around with furniture. Of course, he was in hog heaven, new specialized tools were needed to build furniture, his shop out behind our home getting a total revamp. Then his oldest daughter got married, and soon they were expecting. He built all of the baby furniture, a crib, changing table, high chair, play pens, you name it the baby had one of them.

Our parents were kind of the only normal ones among their friends, most of the major lifestyle choices more than prevalent among their group of friends. One half of one of these couples requested a crib to be built, after seeing the one that Dad had built for his soon to be grandchild. This one was to be a little different, sized to handle an adult baby. They seemed genuine in their request, after Dad found the size needed, it was no problem for him to crank one out in the new size. Well, after the friend saw the crib, took some pictures and sent them to their friends, Dad suddenly had orders for fifteen of them in varying sizes. The workmanship was outstanding on all of them, just the way Dad did things. Built from solid oak, mitered and jointed for strength, and varnished to preserve the finish of the completed product, they would last almost forever keeping their little charges confined, or is that large charges.

Within a couple of weeks more orders come in, once the customers found out he made other baby furniture too. Soon he had a backlog of orders for adult baby furniture. His prices were fair, but he always made sure he made money on the materials and labor. It wasn’t very long before one of his buddies was employed to help Dad, for ever piece completed there were two to three orders placed for more and varied furniture.

Another month passed, and then our parents called for a family meeting, my two sisters, myself and our parents were in attendance. They wanted to capitalize on this unexpected type of business. Dad, of course, to continue making the furniture. Jennifer the older sister was going to look into buying related items that could be sold to some of the same customers we had for the furniture. Betty the younger of my sisters was going to publish a catalog both online and a printed version for those that desired it. Mom was already sewing some baby things, the first few items she made sold out quickly. It seemed there was a large demand for anything adult baby related, especially as we treated them just like a regular customer, no matter that the items they bought were not main stream in any way.

Once everything was laid out, it was now time for Mom to fill me in on what my part would be. I noticed everybody got up and left the room except Mom. I swallowed hard, maybe I am in trouble here. She asked me to come and sit on the couch next to her. As I did so I saw the letters from my high school laid out carefully on the coffee table. She turned to face me, waiting for me to say the first words. The lump that was wedged in my throat was not moving at all so nothing came out of my mouth. She waited, patience has always been one of her strong points. She leaned back against the sofa, smiled a little then pointed to the letters again.

“If you remember we have had a discussion about your studies almost every week. I asked how you are doing, wanting to know if there was anything I could do to help. Since I received the first letter there has been fifteen discussions up to now. Your answer always the same, I am doing fine in all my classes with no difficulty. I have let it proceed along, waiting to see if you were going to ride it out, or eventually beg for some help. Then I started getting letters about absences from school, supposedly authorized by me. Your skill at forging my signature is quite legendary, but unfortunately for you a career as one is not going to be a viable option.”

“Then came the final letter, telling us that you flunked your final exams and will not be graduating this year. Now your father and I have had hopes for you, but you seem to be of another mind. Since you are not eighteen yet, we have decided to make some changes in your life. We have given up hope of your graduating and maybe college. That was a dream apparently only shared by your Father and I. Since you live under our roof, it will be necessary for you to do something to help the family in our new found business. With you poor grades and lack of a diploma it will have to be something we feel that you are capable of, nothing too complicated or difficult.”

“Of course, unless you want to fend for yourself, you will be subject to our rules and desires. For lying to us many times and willfully forging my signature you are grounded for life. Before you protest, you are damn lucky I settled for something that easy. Dad had in mind paddling your ass until you could never sit down again, and that was only for a starter. If you misbehave I can always let Dad have a turn at your discipline.”

“I suggest that you go to your room, and think of all the chances you have had to make things better and willfully chose to ignore every one of them. You will not be getting dinner tonight, so plan accordingly. You and I have an appointment in the morning, as we get you ready for your job to help the family. I suggest you convince yourself to accept our choices, I guarantee you will not like the results if you protest or complain. Just think two disappointed parents, now having to deal with a child that has no education and no desire to succeed at anything.”

“I do not want you out of your room for anything and I do not want to hear a word from that mouth of yours. Be ready at eight in the morning, hair combed and teeth brushed. Now go.”

I quickly made it to my room, shaking a little as I made my way there. Mom has always been the disciplinarian in the family, her no-nonsense approach and her fairness made her feared if you ever crossed her. I think I have crossed over the fence too many times. As she was telling me of my new life her voice never raised once, her cold calculating manner making itself known. I think all of her kids were scared of her, I know my sisters always yielded to her wishes with never a word spoken in protest. Once or twice my sisters had offered me some advice, it was always do what Mom says. I was aware of how Mom is, but decided to try and slip one past her. I absolutely hated school, the teachers were boring and I could see no benefit to graduate just to work some job in retail. I doubted my life would be anything else but some menial job at minimum wage.

It was a boring night, I had my stereo on but turned way down not wanting to make things worse. I did think about the things I did, maybe not the smartest things that I had ever attempted. Then forging her signature on the letters excusing my absence seemed so easy. I just never thought that I might get caught at it. Then there were my studies, it just seemed such a waste of time. I will never use this shit in real life, when is the last time Dad used calculus in his work. Mom never writes a composition, too busy taking care of her family. About one AM I drifted off to sleep, only to be rudely awakened by my alarm clock just before seven in the morning. I laid there for a few minutes then remembered what Mom and I will be doing today and instantly got out of bed. I was ready fifteen minutes later, sitting on the bed waiting for Mom to either call me or come to get me.

Mom came sweeping into the room, some things under her arm. She blindfolded me with a scarf, laid me back on the bed and told me to stay perfectly still. Her tone was definitely do not mess with me this morning, when I reached up with my arm it was slapped hard and laid by my side. My pants were lowered after the belt buckle was undone, they were now residing around my knees. My shirt was unbuttoned and I was encouraged to sit up. The shirt instantly removed from my body as soon as she could get it up my arms. I have never seen her like this, my arms got slapped three more times impressing on me to stay still. My boxers were slid down with my pants, then my shoes removed and my pants and boxers were soon to follow.

Now naked she had me raise my butt and something was slid under it. She gathered the material and pinned it at my sides. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out what she was doing, suddenly my mind figured it out. She just put me in a diaper. Something was slid over my hands and buckled at my wrists. As I tried to move my fingers they were now trapped in the item she had put on my hands. I heard the door open and my sister come in the room. Her only words were how cute. My blindfold was slipped off, I took one look at my body and groaned.

I am sure I was beet red, in a diaper and naked just like a baby. I was led out of the house and then to Mom’s car. The back door was open and I saw the car seat waiting for me, most likely. Something new that Dad put together, larger than most car seats, but designed the same way. I tried to apply the brakes but one push and I was right next to it. Sis helped me up and slipped me into the seat. She made sure I was secure, every strap tightened leaving me helpless. Now that I was secured, I looked at my hands and saw mittens. My hands were now useless, maybe I could pick something up with both hands, but nothing else was possible. A pacifier was slipped into my mouth and the strap fastened behind my head. I tried real hard to ignore it but before she backed out of the drive I was sucking on it. I was terrified of what is happening, but even more of what was going to happen to me. The pacifier was something to take my mind off of what is going to happen.

I tried to figure out where they could be taking me, but nothing made sense. When they pulled up in front of the beauty salon Mom uses, I knew this was going to be bad. I hadn’t got around to what they would do to me, I was more concerned about being seen in a diaper with a pacifier in my mouth. Sis helped me out of the car seat, set me on the ground and then took my hand as she led me inside the salon. No shoes just some thick socks over my feet. The receptionist made a big fuss over me, every comment she made brought more embarrassment to me. I so wanted to run away, but where and how. Finally I was taken back to a room at the back of the salon, where Mom informed the technician what was to be done to me. I just stared at Mom, she can’t do this to me, I am her son, it isn’t right.

My thoughts were apparently wrong, the technician presented some forms and Mom signed them after showing the tech a legal document giving her full legal authority over me. I glanced at it, it was signed by a judge and notarized, leaving me not much say anymore. I lived at home was not eighteen and subject to what my parents decided for me. Now they had somehow got even more control over me, through a court, I guess my actions have now come back to haunt me. I tried stomping my feet, just like a child trying to get attention and his way. I found myself being jerked by my arm over a chair and my diaper lowered. To my utter humiliation I was spanked hard until the tears came streaming down my face. Jerked back up to my feet, Mom’s face right in front of me. “Now be quiet, or we can continue that line of therapy until we wear your butt out.”

That did it for me, mouth closed tight and standing there as quietly as possible. My butt hurt real bad, it seemed like it was on fire. I did move my legs once or twice trying to find a spot a little more comfortable. It turned out that was not possible. A sniff or two escaped, I was trying so hard to keep quiet. I received another stare from Mom, but that was it. Her and the salon technician talked for quite a while and after things were settled, I was laid on the table, the diaper around my ankles was removed and a couple of straps applied to my body to keep me from going anywhere.

I was embarrassed, naked and being seen by Mom, Sis and the lady tech. I was pathetically flat, not even a twitch coming from my male organ. I was at the age that it worked, I have used it exclusively for several months, once I found out what was possible. Let’s just say that my hand and my male apparatus were on a first name basis. Let’s face it, now we are both scared shitless at what is happening.

Warm wax is spread over my body, a small area at a time. A cloth is pushed into the wax and then jerked off, the wax and my body hair coming with it. There was no areas missed, I was now baby smooth all over. I was always small for my age, small enough to fit in a slightly altered child seat in the car. Now with what little body hair I had gone, my closer resemblance to a baby is a real concern.

My hair is washed and conditioned, then cut into a girly style. When curlers are added, the presumption that I will be a female baby is confirmed. Mom is sure making her point, everything done to me stating loud and clear how much I have screwed things up for myself. Then makeup is added to my face, blush on my cheeks and a pink lipstick on my lips. Then we have to discuss what they did to my eyes. Long lash extensions were glued to my existing lashes, then coated with mascara. The tech doing it telling me I didn’t need to worry about reapplying it myself, all the makeup they used is semi-permanent, good for at least six months. I closed my eyes, a tear or two escaping from my orbs.

At that point I knew my fate, no matter what I did I would become an adult female baby, for the foreseeable future, apparently the only task they feel I am qualified for. Now all those classes in high school didn’t seem so worthless. Way too late to change things now, maybe I can get some time off for good behavior if I am a good baby.

My mittens were taken off, my hands secured to a table in front of me. One tech for each hand, my nails are extended and polished the same shade pink as my lipstick. Soon my toenails are done to match, a look at all of this and I again close my eyes, hoping that when I reopen them all of this will be just a dream. Of course, there is no such luck a cute adult female baby, although a quite a bit larger than a normal baby is the only image in my reflection. Okay a lot larger than a regular baby, but cute though so I am told. Mom shows back up, packages in each of her arms, I am sure more humiliation for her new baby daughter.

A new diaper is put on me, by now I really needed to pee, but I had already figured out that I would have to use my diaper. A pair of plastic panties is slid over them, then a girly dress is added to finish the look. She checked over what they had done, then asked if they could handle one more treatment. She conferred with the tech doing most of the work, a smile coming to the techs face. She left the room and came back with two forms that she applied to my lower legs. The straps holding them on, fit securely holding my feet en pointe. I wondered what this had to do about being a baby, but couldn’t figure out any connection. Two shots one in each leg and I was ready to go. The forms would stay on, to be taken off later after the shot had done its job.

Sis wheeled in a stroller, another product of dad’s imagination and skill. I was helped into it and we were off. I was wheeled out to the car, then Sis again helped me into the car seat. Our apparent destination is home, I was glad all of the crap was over for at least another day. Back into the stroller and wheeled into the house. My bedroom was upstairs and I wondered how that was going to work now with the braces on my legs. While I was at the salon, everybody else was quite busy, now I am pushed to the guest bedroom, my apparent new home. As we entered I was shocked, the whole bedroom had been converted to a nursery, for the new baby, me. My head swiveled around trying to see what all had been done to the room. The whole room was full of baby furniture, a crib, a changing table, a play pen the most notable pieces.

There were mobiles hanging from the ceiling, bookcases filled with toys and dolls, and an open front dresser loaded with diapers and plastic panties. Sis helped me up from the stroller and into the crib, then attached a strap to secure me in the laid down position. I tried to whisper to her that I needed to use the rest room, but a smile and her pushing on my belly only caused me to pee in the diaper. Some help there Sis.

Mom asked me if I enjoyed my day, I was sure it was a rhetorical question, she wasn’t expecting an answer. She had something in her hand, and then asked me to open my mouth. I reluctantly did so and she grabbed my tongue with a pair of tongs and snapped something around it. It expanded behind my teeth as she twisted it, locking my tongue securely in its grip and I was no longer able to remove it from my mouth. I tried to say something but no intelligent words were possible. Only guttural sounds escaped my lips. Mom smiled and told me that all my nourishment was to be delivered by a bottle, eating solid foods is now impossible only liquids from now on. Your bed time is seven each evening, tomorrow we start filming our baby enjoying her new home and furniture. By tomorrow night you will be a star on the internet and helping the family to financial independence.

“Maybe your recent actions were not the wisest choice, but it will work out in the end. Let’s face it, being a baby is the only job you can perform any more. You are well qualified, wearing diapers from now on, cute as can be, and dressed appropriately for your new job. Maybe school was not the right choice for you, now you can cry and babble all you want, being a baby is so easy, your destiny now assured.”

I so wanted to talk to her to express my sorrow for my stupid actions and plead for mercy, but the only sounds out of my mouth were a baby babbling about nothing. Then when I least expected it a baby bottle was shoved into my mouth, my source of nourishment for the future. Just like the pacifier I started sucking, the warm milk trickling down my throat filling my stomach.

When the bottle was emptied, I was helped onto Mom’s lap and she held me tenderly, patting my back until I burped. I could get used to the holding and hugging real quick. The warm milk made me sleepy, so I was helped back into the crib and strapped in. A mobile above the crib was turned on, the cute little teddy bears dancing above my head, keeping my eyes busy until I closed them and drifted off into slumber land. I do remember sucking on the pacifier after finishing the bottle, something about the action making me content and relaxed.

Waking up to a wet cold diaper is far from enjoyable, but seems to be my future. I tried to get somebody’s attention, but the few noises escaping my mouth were far from attention getting. I laid there watching the mobile spin above me, lost in thought. I now deeply regretted my past actions, way too late to change anything, my parents now convinced this is all I am capable of. Maybe they are right, even now my mind only focused on my teddy bears spinning above me and when my next bottle might appear. Oh and my cold wet diaper, that has to come first.

When I pooped in my diaper and the smell wafted towards my nose, I began to get frantic. Someone needs to help me, I might drown in my own urine and poop. I heard some footsteps, the door opening and Sis wrinkling her nose at my smell. I was helped over to the changing table a strap over my stomach to keep me from falling off. I was cleaned, the wet cold baby wipes actually feeling good. There is nothing worse than warm poop to deal with, believe me. A new diaper, then some plastic panties to keep me from leaking. I was moved to the playpen, laid in the middle of it and several dolls were added to keep me occupied. I had no intention of playing with them, a bit of rebellion coming to the forefront. That was quickly dispelled as Sis placed one in my hands and made to hug it. It felt good, so I held it tight looking it right in the eyes. As if the doll could respond I tried to talk to it, the gibberish coming out of my mouth probably only understood by my dolly friend.

I came to the realization a few moments later that I was being videotaped. I looked across the room to see Sis with her camera taking in my conversation with Dolly. I blushed red, what they had told me was going to happen is already underway. I wonder what my friends will say when they see the video on the internet. Maybe if I am confined to my nursery I will never have to hear the remarks. I went back to playing with my doll, something to keep me from thinking about my situation. A couple of minutes later I realized I was having fun, a simple endeavor that made me feel good.

A new bottle was brought to me and I eagerly consumed its contents. Then after being strapped into my crib I was off to dreamland again. I don’t remember the specific dreams, but had a warm cared for feeling when I woke up. Also another wet cold diaper. I started crying, the only way I had to communicate my distress. Mom came this time, cleaning me up and changing my diaper. She used an extra thick diaper this time, telling me that would keep me dryer, so I would not have to be changed as much. She also took off the forms on my lower legs and helped me to stand on the mattress. I soon found out what the forms did. I could no longer stand on my feet, the pain in my calves putting me on my butt quickly. A few new tears appeared, I was so stupid in my actions, now I am paying for it in spades.

Mom did hold me again on her lap, patting my back until I burped. On the way to my playpen she stopped at a mirror, to show me what I looked like now. I blinked my eyes not believing the image I saw. With the makeup and hair style there was no doubt of my gender. As I was placed down in the playpen, she kissed my cheek, you are so good Babykins. Apparently that is my new name. Robert is no longer, replaced by a cute female baby, that baby is now me, Babykins.

The mobile was turned on and as I watched the teddy bears spinning overhead I slipped off into dreamland again. I had heard mother in the past tell her oldest daughter that is all babies do, drink their bottle, wet and poop their diapers and sleep. I seemed to be doing good at all three, just like a baby.

The next few weeks were very intense as I was constantly in the lens of the camera, everything I did recorded for internet posting. The furniture was there, but now also the clothes Mom was making and the things that Sis was buying for resale. I had pacifiers, hair barrettes, mittens, baby booties, and just about anything else that was related to an infant on me at one time or another. It wouldn’t have been as bad if this was limited to the daytime hours, but the ones I modeled were mine to be used in my care and dressing. So as I was made ready for bed, a couple of barrettes were placed in my hair, a pair of baby booties on my feet and a pacifier in my mouth was the standard for my sleep time.

It was several weeks later when Mom came into the nursery to have a talk with me. She wanted to know if I was enjoying the life of a baby, or if I missed all the things I used to do. I listened to her and took a few minutes to think of my answer. In the mean time she had removed my mouthpiece, which she did once a week, to let me answer her without any hindrance. I guess I did miss my male life some, although looking back, it seemed fake and restricting. As a baby I had no worries, other than somebody to get my bottle and change my diaper. Usually a few wails and someone would be at my side to tend to me. I didn’t really miss solid food, my formula was quite tasty and kept me feeling full and content. Also was responsible for making all my poop runny and smelly.

My first words were garbled, since I seldom used my voice other than crying to get the needed attention. I looked up at Mom then put my hands up to get her to pick me up. She did smiling as she set me on her hip. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, then she returned the kiss on the end of my nose. I giggled a little, then laid my head on her shoulder.

“I am really sorry for what I have done in the past, if I am helping the family being your baby I am fine with the life. I liked to be handled, cuddled and loved. A good feeling spreading through me when I am. It is nice to not worry about things, knowing someone will take care of me. I am not sure about later in life, it is not fair for you to have to take care of me, but I do love you and want to be your cute baby forever.” I reached for the mouthpiece with my mittened hands wanting it put back in, then cuddled in her arms with my head on her shoulder.

I apparently fell asleep, the next thing I remember is waking in my crib, my teddy bears swirling above me. My diaper was wet again, I don’t remember going to the bathroom this much before my introduction to babyhood. I heard the door open and looked to see who was going to change my diaper this time.

If the mouthpiece would have allowed it I am sure my mouth would be wide open, Jennifer my former girlfriend was standing there trying hard to contain her giggles. She walked over to get a closer look, then reached down into the crib and straightened one of my pigtails. I got tickled, causing me to babble that much more. She reached her finger inside the edge of my diaper checking to see how wet I was.

“Oh, I can see baby is wet, don’t worry I will get you changed and then we can play together.” I gave her a funny look wondering about what she was talking about. Play together, this does not sound like the Jennifer I know.

I should say ex-girlfriend. I dated her a few times then we decided to make it boyfriend and girlfriend. That worked for a couple of weeks until I was caught dating another female. Nothing was said at the time she caught me, but it was only a few days later when she informed me it was over. What was worse when she caught me I was kissing my date with a lot of tongue, anybody could see it was not just a casual date. Actually it was my second date with the girl, and we had progressed farther than kissing. No outright sex, but a thorough exploration of each other’s bodies had already been carried out on the first date.

Jennifer took a lot of pleasure in changing my diaper, made a lot of comments about how cute I was and found the frilliest dress to slip onto me after she had the diaper and plastic panties in place. She got me up on her lap, then stuck the nipple of a baby bottle in my mouth. It wasn’t my regular formula but some type of juice. She waited patiently while I finished the bottle, then burped me. Then I was sat down on the floor and handed one of my dolls to play with. I felt a brush going through my hair, then her taking it and braiding it into two distinct braids pigtail style. Of course, ribbons on the ends of the braids, then followed by some lipstick on my lips. Another pacifier was put in my mouth and she cuddled me to her chest. I was held tenderly for quite some time, her leaning over every once in a while to kiss my cheek or forehead. Finally I was placed back in my crib strapped in and she left the room. I could hear her talking to Mom, but not what was said. As usual I drifted off, visions of teddy bears dancing above me.

A kiss on the nose awoke me, Jennifer’s face just inches from it. I had wet my diaper as usual, so she changed me, taking extra time to clean me and powder me. Another bottle, then the pacifier was inserted. I was getting sleepy, there must be something in the milk, one bottle and I am out like a light. I thought I heard her tell me that I was going to school with her, so that I could be part of their home economics classes in taking care of a baby. Surely Mom would not do that to me, exposed to all of my old friends as a baby.

It was a week later when Jennifer appeared early, changing my diaper and slipping one of my frilliest dresses on me. Mittens on my hands, booties on my feet and I was placed in one of Dad’s strollers. Oh gawd she is going to take me to school. I tried to get out of the stroller, but she already had me strapped in. With the mittens on my hands there was no way for me to undo the strap, so I reverted to baby talk. I cried, babbled and sobbed trying to get her attention. This can’t be happening to me. I repeated that over and over till we entered the gates of the school. I was a mess, wet from all the crying and of course wet from using my diaper. I no longer had to think about peeing in my diaper, it just happened, not a good sign for the future if I ever get to return to my male existence. Of course a baby, even a larger than normal one drew a lot of attention. The girls in particular were leaning over the stroller making faces at me and touching my nose. I even got a few kisses on the cheek.

One guy who was with his girlfriend looked at me and made a nasty remark. His girlfriend slapped him so hard, I think I thought I felt the impact. Then apparently kicked him in the shins in an equally vicious manner. I heard her say if he opened his mouth one more time she will tell the whole school his secret. I never saw him again that day.

I was taken to the home economics class, where I was introduced to all the girls in the first period. The rest of the day was a blur. I was changed, bathed, fed, burped, and played with all day long, each new class of girls getting to do all of the above. I missed my naps, so by late afternoon I was grouchy and whiney. Did I mention that Dad had brought a complete set of baby furniture to the school for the girls to use? At lunch though I panicked, I was put into my stroller, then paraded around the school, all of my former classmates being able to see what I had become.

There was some laughing, but I think a lot of the males came to the realization if they goofed off like I did, this also could be their fate. A very sobering fact for most of them. I was laughed at but no comments were made to me directly. The home economics teacher, Ms. Pepperdine thanked me for coming today, and informed me I would be here every other Wednesday to help the girls learn to take care of babies. Since I could not say anything, I just babbled some more, not exactly what I wanted to hear, but nothing I could do to change things. I so wish I could start over, the things I did getting me in this position, with absolutely no future except more of the same. Then I realized I was actually starting life over, this time as a baby.

I was never so glad to see our house when Jennifer pushed me up to the front porch. If I can just talk to Mom about being used as a baby at the school, surely she will have a little sympathy for me. So who comes out our front door to greet me, dear old Mom. She smiled asking me if I enjoyed my day at school. “Just think seeing all your old friends and them getting to play with you, surely you couldn’t want anything better than that.”

Nope Mom is not going to save me from future embarrassment. I imagine if I ever get out of the baby phase I will have learned my lesson, Mom was going to make sure of that.

Now though I had been wondering if the baby thing would ever end. It has been four months, and I am more committed to the lifestyle than before. For one thing I have no control of my peeing and pooping that was lost a couple of months ago. I can’t walk, if allowed out of my crib or play pen, my only mode of moving is too crawl. I seldom use my voice now, the contraption in my mouth allowing only babbling, the few times it is removed when I am checked on, forming a word to speak is almost impossible. I am content, most of my needs are handled and I do love my dollies and teddy bears often spending time talking to them in my baby language. I still hate baby food from a jar, but every few days my dislikes are ignored and I am forced to eat at least three jars of the crap.

On a Monday I noticed all of my family hustling around the house, getting dressed and preparing for something special. Then Mom and Jennifer descended on me and I was bathed, diapered, and dressed in a very colorful baby dress. Booties were placed on my feet and my mittens were slipped on my hands. Some lipstick and I was carried out to the car and put in my car seat, Dad doing the honors. He drove us to an area behind the mall and I was beginning to get worried, this I think is the area where the salon that I had been taken too initially was located. We did drive past the salon, I had been biting down on my pacifier until we went past the place.

He pulled into a parking lot, came around and removed me from the car seat and put me in the stroller which they had brought along. Pushed into a building, the sign behind the counter said it was Becky’s daycare. I almost bit through the pacifier, they are going to leave me in a daycare as they do whatever there have to do. This just can’t be happening. Mom talked to the lady at the counter giving her my bag of diapers, formula and a change of clothes. Another lady was already taking hold of the stroller and preparing to take me to the back. I hand my arms up wiggling them back and forth wanting to be picked up desperately by Mom and not left here. Mom leaned down, kissed me on the nose and told me to be a good baby. Then turned and left. I immediately started to cry, they left me with strangers, and have abandoned me. I wailed and wailed, finally one of the ladies found one of my bottles in my bag and shoved it in my mouth. I was still not happy, but a bottle to comfort me a little was better than nothing.

I was removed from my stroller and placed in a crib, the waist strap tightened to make sure I wouldn’t be going anywhere and a mobile turned on above my head. It wasn’t my teddy bears but I was soon asleep none the less.

A little while later a couple of teenagers came to check on me, found a soaked diaper and proceeded to change me. They talked about me, wondering how I ended up as a baby, changed my dress, brushed my hair, and then fed me another bottle. I got kissed and one of them leaned over, picked up my dress and blew on my stomach causing me to screech and babble away. I got kissed on the cheek and they left, the bottle of warm milk doing its usual and I was soon fast asleep.

I was so happy to see Dad come and get me to take me home. He carried me in his arms while I hung on to him with all of my strength. I was so happy when the car door closed and I could look out the window and see the daycare facility fade away. Even happier when he pulled into our drive. I never found out why I was left at the daycare facility, but every trip in the car caused tremors of fear until something other than the daycare came into focus.

I spent all of my time as a babbling baby, always diapers, baby bottles and confined to a crib or play pen. Jennifer turned out to be a regular fixture around the house, changing my diapers, feeding me my bottle and playing with me. I could never figure out her fascination with me, but I did appreciate her company. Life as a baby can be lonely, the teddy bears and dolls I played with were alright but lacked something personality wise.

I was already an internet sensation, having a presence in all of the social media sites. Of course other than my pictures and videos I had no part in the conversations or comments left for me. Sis handling all of that for her baby sister.

One day a few weeks later there was general turmoil in the house, things were moved and new things added here and there. Jennifer took me for a stroll around the neighborhood in my stroller, then to the park for a while. It was several hours later when we returned, my main concern was my flooded diaper. Behind Dad’s shop was a separate apartment, probably a servants quarters when the house was first built. That is where Jennifer headed when we entered the yard. It looked quite a bit different than the last time I remembered seeing it. As a child I played in the apartment, somewhere to play on a rainy day. Mom was standing there as she opened the front door so Jennifer could push the stroller inside. I was taken out of the stroller and carried into my new nursery, even Jennifer could carry me now since I had lost so much weight. It was still hard for her, but if she got me positioned right on her hip she could manage.

I looked around, my eyes wide with amazement. Just like my old nursery but even more feminine in appearance. No door to open and close just a mesh netting that could be closed trapping me in the room. With mittens on and unable to stand on my feet I would be limited to this room until taken out. New baby furniture all with a pinkish finish to the wood, fitting in with the new décor. There was a rocker over in the corner that Jennifer eased her body into, then called me over. I crawled over and was then helped up onto her lap.

She fussed with her top, then laid a portion of it down unveiling her breast. I looked up at her, swallowed then leaned over and put my lips around her nipple. Her nipples were swollen, a few sucks from my mouth and I was rewarded with warm milk. I eagerly attached myself to that nipple, determined to get every drop of milk from her. A little while later I was switched to the other nipple, more milk for my eager mouth. I fell asleep on her lap, a nipple still in my mouth. I felt myself being picked up, but not wanting to let go of my warm wet nipple. Jennifer eased a finger into my mouth and broke the connection and I was helped off and placed in a crib. I was so full I was instantly back asleep content for a while.

I never did end up talking again, Jennifer is my Mother now, seeing to my care and loving. I have baby sitters if needed, and of course all the latest baby furniture and clothing. I sometimes get to lay in bed with Jennifer, where she plays with me late into the night. One day I was told I might have a baby sister or brother someday, not really understanding what she was telling me. It would be nice if I had someone to play with other than Mommy.

I am happy, being a baby is probably the only thing I could do, and I am told I do it so well. I do make a contribution to the family, Jennifer has mentioned often that my share of the family profits will keep me in diapers forever. Just as long as I have the love of my Mommy, a baby’s life is what I want.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca