paddedlittleparadise: There it was, just as she had told me. My new outfit. My badge of shame, of si
paddedlittleparadise: There it was, just as she had told me. My new outfit. My badge of shame, of sissy punishment for forgetting my Mommydomme’s birthday. My uniform of girly, feminized humiliation, designed intentionally to embarrass me and show Mommy what a subby, blushing, obedient sissy I was becoming under her tutelage…Fresh from my shower, wrapped in only my damp bath towel, I shivered as I stood there - as much from the chill as from the trembling, anxious excitement of the punishment before me. True, she wasn’t interested in caging me, flogging me, making me scream in pain. No, she preferred the subtler methods. The psychological methods. The ones that showed me just how illogical and silly these constructed notions of propriety, dignity, and gender actually were.She herself had pointed it out when I had first protested at the frilly petticoats and thick nappy she had forced me to wear. There was nothing inherently humiliating about any of it. She wore skirts all the time and never once blushed, and unpotty-trained toddlers were blissfully free of any sense of shame when trotting around in their bulging nappies. No, any shame I felt was all generated inside my own silly head. And it was that fact which simultaneously made it that much more intoxicating for her, and that much more embarrassing for me. For I had no one but myself to blame for my humiliation - and for my resulting arousal.For aroused I was, much as I hated to admit it. I closed my eyes, picturing those layers and layers of cotton compressing under my weight, enfolding my entire groin and rear in their soft embrace as I - yes, I, being the active agent enforcing and participating in my own punishment - voluntarily wrapped that triple-thick cloth diaper around my rear. I shivered again, already sensing the bulk underneath me as I sat up, imagining it insistently thrusting my thighs apart, giving me that telltale waddle that I craved and dreaded so much… I trembled at the thought of those ruffles slipping over my head, the soft fabric slipping over my shaved arms, my fingers shakily tying the pretty little bow around my neck, fixing me even more firmly in my pretty new dress…And I would waddle over to the mirror, blushing furiously, yet craving the sight of my sissified form, longing yet dreading to see the massive bulk between my legs, ballooning under my skimpy little skirt, proclaiming to anyone who cared to see “Look here! This absurd little thing still needs their diapers!” And I would shiver again, feeling Mommy’s eyes on me, sensing her smile of approval at my abject humiliation… “Guess who’s going to learn not to forget my special day?” she’d intone in that velvety, gut-fluttering voice of hers. And I would accept the massive baby bottle she handed me, knowing even as I slipped it in my mouth that the first would be followed by a second, and a third… and that she wouldn’t let me take off my girly little outfit until my sagging diaper was leaking steadily, streams of my own pee trickling helplessly down my smooth, sissy legs…And oh, I would love it. Image Credit: Twitter user @062dia75Please keep my caption intact if reblogging; as long as you do, may your phone battery never wear out. -- source link