Forced Sissification: When Mommy Takes Control

Hi there, sweet sissies…

It’s me, your favorite little diapered princess, writing this with my legs kicked up in the air and my frilly dress bunched around my tummy. I still can’t believe how far Mommy has taken me, but every time I look in the mirror I get that warm, tingly rush between my legs and I know I was always meant to be hers.

I wasn’t always like this. I used to be just a regular man… until Mommy caught a glimpse of my pathetic little micropenis one day and laughed that soft, scary laugh that makes my knees weak. “Oh no, baby,” she whispered, tapping the tiny pink nub with one long fingernail, “this tiny thing was never meant to be a boy’s. It’s a sissy clitty, and Mommy’s going to dress it up like the pretty girl it was born to be.”

That was the night I was forced to start becoming a sissy.

She started with the panties. Oh, these aren’t just any panties. Mommy picks the laciest, softest, most humiliating ones she can find, baby pink satin with rows of white ruffles across the bottom and a little heart shaped cutout right in front so my micropenis peeks out like a shy little secret. The fabric is so slippery and delicate it feels like a constant kiss on my clitty, and every time I move, the ruffles flutter and remind me I’m not allowed to be anything but her frilly girl anymore.

Then came the dresses. Mommy loves the ones with the poofiest skirts, layers and layers of frothy tulle and crisp organza that stick out like a bell and swish around my padded bottom when I toddle. My favorite, well, the one Mommy makes me wear the most, is the bubblegum pink party dress with white lace trim, tiny satin bows all over the bodice, and a big floppy bow right on my diapered bum. The hem barely covers the bottom of my ruffled panties, so everyone can see what a silly, diapered sissy I’ve become. When I spin, the skirt flares out like cotton candy clouds and I feel so small, so exposed, so perfectly pathetic.

And the lipstick… Mommy spends forever painting my lips. She uses the brightest, glossiest cherry red she owns, the kind that stays shiny and sticky for hours. She makes me purse my lips and say “Mommy’s pretty sissy” over and over while she coats them until they look like two plump, glossy pillows begging to be kissed. Every time I talk or suck on my paci, I taste the sweet chemical cherry and remember who owns this mouth now.

I’m writing this while sitting in my crib right now, thick diaper crinkling, dress fluffed up around me, glossy red lips shining under the nursery light. My little clitty is locked away in its tiny pink cage, twitching uselessly inside the ruffled panties, and Mommy is humming in the next room, picking out tomorrow’s even frillier outfit.

I used to fight it. I used to beg to be a man again.

Now I just babble and coo and thank Mommy for turning me into the happiest, most helpless sissy baby on the planet.

If you’re a sissy baby who dreams of being forced into pretty dresses, glossy lipstick, and humiliating ruffled panties… come and call 1-888-430-2010. Mommy always has room for one more pink princess.

Smooches and crinkles,

Your Diapered Sissy Princess