Diapers, Dresses, And Domination free porn video

Diapers, Dresses, and Domination Or How in the heck did this happen to me? By Missy Satinpanties It started simply. I was fairly young, and a very successful stock broker. Thanks to some luck, a few shrewd guesses, and the guts to take a real risk, I was now sitting on a rather sizable nest egg, owned a nice house outright, and a beautiful Black Lexus. Nothing really flashy, but new and all mine. And then, thanks to the untimely death of my parents that brought me a small inheritance and a decent insurance settlement, I had more money in the bank than I truly needed. Was I a millionaire? No I wasn't a millionaire, but everything I had was paid for, and with my current income and what I had in the bank, I wasn't worried about the future. Maybe, though, I should have worried a little more. I had married to a beautiful woman, who married me when I was working 12 hours a day, six days a week, and not quite as successful as I would be, so unless she could read the future, she didn't marry me for the dough. I was young, in good health, but I had one flaw that my wife, Fiona, kept harping on me to change. You see, I was a smoker. A short bio of us: I'm slender and rather short, at 5'6" tall, just an inch taller than my wife. Since I've quit working full time, and just do consulting part-time from my home via phone and internet, I decided to let my light brown hair grow out a bit. Fiona is, as I said, just a bit shorter than me, and while not "waifish," she is slender with beautiful blonde hair, long graceful legs, and a set of 34B tits that stand up proud, and look perfect for her body. Well, I guess I have to mention one other flaw that I possess, and it's one that really can't be changed. My cock, at full extension, is only 4.5 inches long, and definitely not fat. Not to worry, Fiona loves me the way I am. Or so I thought. One day, she came home from work to tell me that she had found the perfect solution to my smoking. It seems that several of the other people she worked with at the pharmaceutical company had gone to a psychiatrist who hypnotized them, and cured their smoking addiction in less than six weeks. What the hell, I was game! Fiona, it seems, had already set up the appointment for me, and the very next day I found myself in a very plush office, manned by a buxom and beautiful receptionist, waiting to see the Doctor Foster. When I was led into his office, I had a lot of trouble keeping my eyes off the receptionist's bottom, it was so curvy and luscious! Anyway, the man who greeted me was about 6'2" tall, and looked as though he had played football in college. I really felt like a shrimp compared to him. The first session was really just a "getting to know the patient" sort of session, where we talked about what I wanted, and what my goals were, etc. He told me that wanted to see me twice a week for the first month, and that sounded okay to me. His receptionist, whom I now knew as Gwen, set me up for Thursday afternoon. I've been suspicious of Thursdays ever since. Let me explain. What was funny was that when I got ready to leave Dr. Foster's office on Thursday, I really didn't remember what we had talked about. I just had a feeling of being totally relaxed and happy. As I was standing up, he handed me a small box, and told me that this was the device that I was supposed to use, around the house only, when I craved a cigarette. When I opened the box, I found what looked like an oversized baby pacifier, but the guard and the ring thing on the front were both black. "I'm sorry about the appearance, Dan," he said, "but since a baby has an oral fixation on his mother's breasts, we use a pacifier as a placebo. Since one of the problems with smoking is that you have an oral fixation on the cigarette, this works sort of the same way. I found them in black, so it wouldn't be totally embarrassing. And this is also why I recommend using it only around the house. No need to appear in public with the silly thing, is there?" We both laughed, I stuck it in my pocket and headed home. That afternoon, right after lunch, I really wanted a smoke, so I got the box out of my jacket pocket. Somewhat sheepishly, I popped it into my mouth and was rewarded with an almost immediate cessation of the need to smoke, and a feeling of, well, comfort. After that, anytime I felt like a smoke, out came the pacifier. By Sunday, though, I noticed that I seemed to have it in my mouth almost all day! Now, Fiona never said a word after I explained about it on Thursday evening, so I didn't think anymore about it. Monday came, along with another visit to Dr. Foster. Again, no clear memory of what we talked about, and I began to wonder when he was going to hypnotize me. I mean, don't they dangle something in front of you, and sort of chant about getting sleepy? Anyway this time I left with a bottle of sleeping pills and a relaxation CD. I was told to get a small speaker that went under my pillow, and listen to this to fall asleep at night. There were subliminal messages in the natural sounds that would make me dislike the thought of smoking. That night, I took one of the small pills, put the speaker under my pillow, and fell asleep to the sound of a gentle rain shower, and a small creek bubbling over rocks. It was very peaceful and soothing. I tried at first to hear the messages, but only heard the sounds of nature. I woke up feeling refreshed and happy, and went to the dresser to grab my phone, robe, and pacifier. This morning, there were two pacifiers on the dresser, my black one, and a pink one. I don't know why, but as my hand hovered over the two, it just seemed right to pick the pink one, and put it in my mouth. I think I kept that pacifier in my mouth all day Tuesday and Wednesday. I don't know why, I didn't crave a smoke, but it just felt, I don't know, right somehow. Anyway, Fiona made no comment, and soon it was time for my Thursday appointment. Again, no real memory, just a feeling of well being, and somehow, I knew I didn't need to remember. Dr. Foster did give me a new CD that he wanted me to listen to at night as I fell asleep, though. Friday morning came, and again, I went to the dresser, chose the pink pacifier, made coffee, and took a shower. Fiona was off today, and had already been about the house doing laundry. I went to my drawer, and found no clean underwear, and asked Fiona where they were. "I'm sorry, honey," she said, "I washed everything, and it's all folded in the laundry basket. I just didn't want to wake you putting things away." I went to the basket with my clothes, and there, folded on top was my underwear. There on top were the microfiber briefs I had taken to wearing lately. For some reason, my old cotton boxers had, out of the blue, and just the other day, started to itch and chafe me, and so Fiona found these. There they were, black, dark gray, navy blue, waiting to be worn. But, next to them was a pair of something pink. I picked them up, and found a pair of women's pink satin panties with delicate lace around the leg openings, and a little bow in front of the waistband. Without much thought, I pulled them on, and thought to myself that while they looked a bit odd, they felt so much better than my regular underwear did. I got dressed, and the day progressed. Saturday morning, I again opted for the pink pacifier, and actually looked to see if there were any satin panties in my drawer. To my surprise, there was a pair of baby blue panties, with a bit more lace than the pink, and while there was a small bow on the waistband at the front, there were two larger bows on each hip. Shrugging, I grabbed them, and pulled them on, and then went looking for a T-shirt. Again, a bit surprised, as there was a matching frilly top right there! (I've learned since that it was called a camisole) I pulled on a cotton T- shirt, and all of a sudden, started itching again, just like with my boxers. I pulled the T-shirt off, and slipped the camisole over my head. The itching stopped immediately, and without another thought, I grabbed a chambray shirt and my jeans, and got dressed. I spent the day in my panties and camisole, with the pink pacifier in my mouth for most of the time. Sunday morning came, and again, there was a new pair of panties in one drawer, and a new camisole in the other. They were identical to the blue set, except these were ivory satin with pink lace trim and bows. On Monday, I just knew that there would be more of the same, and for some reason, found comfort in that. I assumed that Fiona just knew that the other things were uncomfortable, and that these, while a bit girly, were much more comfortable. Sure enough, they were there, this time in a pale lemon color satin. On Monday, the same thing occurred, with the only difference being the color. This time it was pretty lilac colored satin panties and camisole. My appointment at Dr. Foster's office lasted a lot longer today, and while I don't really remember what we said, I left again with a new CD, and that wonderful feeling of well being and comfort. Fiona was home when I got there, and she told me to come into the bedroom, as she had something for me. She showed me my underwear drawers, and all the cotton and microfiber was gone. In place of my other things, was an array of panties and camisoles, in yellow, pink, baby blue, white, and ivory. All trimmed in lace, some in matching colors, some in contrasting colors. They were all very pretty, and I looked forward to wearing them all, for some strange reason. That night was the disaster. Fiona and I made love, with both of us wearing panties and a camisole, and it felt so very nice to feel satin rubbing on satin. As I drifted off to sleep with my new CD playing, Fiona touched my shoulder and softly said, "Goodnight, Babykins." I felt as though I needed to go the bathroom, but just didn't have the energy to get up. As the urge got stronger, I felt that I had to get up, but just couldn't. Yep, you guessed it, I peed the bed! Fiona got up yelling, and I just cowered there as she yelled at me. "Daniel Eric Johnson, you are a lazy pig!" I was suddenly shocked at what I had done, and could fathom no reason for it. We pulled the sheets off, and threw them into the dryer, and that's when I noticed that there was a waterproof sheet under my side of the bed. Far from being shocked, I was merely relieved that the new mattress wasn't ruined. As we made the bed with clean sheets, Fiona told me that she was pissed at me (pun intended?) and I was going to sleep in the guest room the rest of the night. So, after taking a shower, I headed to the guest room, where Fiona was waiting for me. She told me to take off my robe, and lay down on the bed. From a drawer that I thought was empty, she pulled something out. She told me to lift my butt up, and slid a disposable diaper under me, and began to tape it tightly in place! "Fiona!" I sort of yelped. "Where in the world did that come from, and why do you think I'm going to wear them?" She just said, "Relax, Babykins, it's okay." Suddenly, it was okay, and I let her finish taping the diapers on, and then didn't even think about fighting her when she pulled out a pair of pink plastic panties and slid them up my legs. Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she produced my pink pacifier, popped it into my mouth, pulled the covers up, and kissed me goodnight. As I was dropping off to sleep, I could feel myself peeing the diapers. For some reason, I just didn't care, and slept deeply all night long. I awoke to the sun coming through the windows, after Fiona opened the curtains. As I lay there, she looked at me and said, "Daniel Eric Johnson, why don't you get out of bed, take off those diapers, shower and get dressed." Suddenly aware that I was wearing diapers and plastic panties, I jumped up and darted to the bathroom, where I pulled of the panties, and then removed a very, very wet diaper. I looked around, and to my surprise, there was a yellow plastic pail with a lid, and a note on it that read, "Dirty diapers go in here." Well, if that's where they go, then... But somewhere, deep inside me, there was a voice nagging at me, trying to get my attention. I was sort of hazily aware of certain questions, like, "Where did the diaper and plastic panties come from?" And, "Why was there a plastic sheet under my side of the bed?" And, "Why was I wearing frilly panties and a camisole every day?" But, even as those questions came to my mind, they slipped away, like water off a duck's back. I took a shower, and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. Fiona sort of stopped me at the door and said, "I moved your things to your new room, Honey. I'm sure you'll be more comfortable there." She took my elbow and led me down the hall the guest room I had slept in, and showed me that all my clothing was already there. At this, I finally took offense and rounded on Fiona, almost screaming, "Dammit, you're my wife, and I'm your husband. WE sleep in the master bedroom, OUR clothes are kept there. I do NOT sleep in the guest room!" I was really getting hot under the collar now, and the thought of sleeping in another room, wearing those damn panties again, and all the rest was just boiling away in my mind. Fiona just looked at me and whispered, "Darling Danielle, you know I love you." All the fight, all the indignation, just seemed to melt away in an instant. I allowed her to finish leading me into the spare room. She told me to sit on the bed, and then handed me a pair of panties that were the epitome of femininity, or at least if the female in question was 4 years old! They were powder blue satin, with white lace around both leg openings and the waist, and had two large pink ribbons on each hip that trailed ribbon down below the panties. The back of the panties had three rows of matching lace. The lace itself was very poofy, and I found out it was glass silk. The camisole was the same material, with ruffled shoulder straps, and a matching pink ribbon on the bodice. With a flourish, my wife then went to the closet and brought out a dress that would make any little 6 year old girly-girl want to wear it to a party. Baby blue satin, short puffy cap sleeves, with lacy trim, a ruffled sparkling pinafore, big pink bows at each side of the dress, and a very lacy hem. She laid this on the bed, and I just looked at it with mixed feelings of longing and dread. Next up came a set of crinolines, white and lacy with a satin top so that you pulled it on over your head. A pair of short white nylon socks with lacy tops followed, and then a pair of black, patent leather shoes with little straps across the instep that looked again like they were for a little girl. Now, the astute reader will have realized by now, even though I didn't at the time, that each time I went to Dr. Foster's office, I had indeed been hypnotized. He had also implanted three trigger phrases in my mind. The first was "Darling Danielle," that immediately took away my will and my desire to wear men's clothing, leaving me pliable and docile. The second was "Babykins," which regressed me even further, and the last was my full name, which brought me to a sort of modified reality. These hypnosis sessions, along with the psychotropic drug I was taking at night, and the subliminal messages that I listened to all night, combined to make me into whatever Fiona wanted me to be, at any time. However, this took me a very long time to understand, and by that time, it was far too late. Like an obedient child, I allowed Fiona to stand me up, and slip that mass of crinolines over my head, fluffing them out to their fullest. Next came that dress, and as it floated over my body, I again felt dread, but mostly a need to look pretty for Fiona. In the back of my mind, those voices again nagged at me, asking me why I wanted to be pretty. Of course, they weren't strong enough to overcome my programming. Once the dress was buttoned up in the back, I knew I could not take it off by myself. Fiona showed me how to brush the dress and petticoats back so I could sit down without ruining the dress, and I did. She slipped the socks over my feet, and then buckled the shoes on. Again those voices kept asking me why, and how come these little girl clothes fit an adult male, and why were they in our house? Little did I know about shops on eBay, and various other sites that catered to crossdresser, sissies, and the like. I would, however, soon learn all about them. She stood me in front of the full length mirror, and there I saw a man with longish hair, dressed like a little girl going to a birthday party or something. Fiona seemed to think that something was missing, and opened a bottom drawer, and pulled out a lacy satin something in the same blue. I quickly learned what it was, as she arranged the frothy satin bonnet on my head, and tied the ribbons below my chin. Now, I looked even more surreal, and sucked hard on my pacifier, wondering what the heck was going on. I would learn very soon what was happening, and really wouldn't like it, even though I was powerless to stop it. For the next two weeks, Fiona didn't play around at all. I still got up, put on panties and a camisole that were lacy, beribboned, and so little girly that no real woman would wear them. That Friday morning, I went into Fiona's bedroom (Not so very long ago, OUR bedroom, sigh.) and took a good look at her underwear. Sure, there were a few pair of panties that were sort of frilly, lots with sheer lace on the bum, or down the sides, but for the most part, while they might be made of silk, satin, or some other man-made fiber; they looked like women's panties. Some plain, some sheer and sexy, and some flirty. I then went back to my panties. Every pair had ruffles, or lace, or bows, and a lot had all three! In Fiona's drawer, there were all kinds of colors, like navy blue, black, red, bright pink, some with sort of a leopard print, and some with a pattern of roses. Mine were all pastels, with no hint of black or red. The closest thing I had were a pair of teal panties with a lavish lace panel in the front, and a seam that ran vertically down the back that pulled them snugly into my butt crack. Even the white ones had at least baby blue ribbons or bows. As I stood there, sort of staring at the mass of frills and satin that now occupied my underwear drawer, the realization came on me like a slow wave breaking. I wasn't being dressed like a woman, I was being dressed like a little girl. No woman, and certainly no real man would allow himself to be dressed this way, to suck a pacifier, to wear a diaper, and to move out of his own bedroom. I hadn't slept with my wife for over two weeks, and I hadn't even seen her naked for that period of time! I knew that something was wrong, and I had to do something about it. I could call Fiona, but the phone was no place to discuss this, and in person, I just seemed to melt, and do what she wanted me to do. So, I did the only thing I could think of, I resolved to talk to Dr. Foster about it when I saw him this afternoon! I immediately picked up the phone, and called the doctor's office, and informed Gwen that I was having some real anxiety about everything, and really needed to see the doctor today. She just sort of giggled and in her sexy, breathy voice told me that it would be no problem, as there was a cancellation, and if I could come at two, I could have a double session. Perfect! That morning, I decided to locate my male underwear, no matter how uncomfortable, and wear it. No more lingerie for me! As I was rooting around in the basement, checking any boxes or other hiding places, the phone rang. When I picked it up, I heard the soft voice of Dr. Foster's receptionist. "Mr. Johnson?" she inquired. "Yes, this is he," was my tentative answer. I hoped that there wasn't a problem. "Mr. Johnson, Dr. Foster wanted to make sure that you came prepared for today's session. You see, from the sound of your voice when you called earlier, he seems to think you are at a minor crisis point, and truly wants to help." "Thank you, Gwen," I replied. "I'm so glad Dr. Foster understands. What did he want me to do to prepare, though?" I asked the last rather tentatively, as I had never heard of anyone "preparing" for a visit to a shrink. "Well," she breathed out slowly, "he wants Darling Danielle to bring some things to the session. Darling Danielle is coming for her session, and Dr. Foster wants to see Darling Danielle." The multiple repeats of my trigger put me completely at ease, and I listened as she told me what she wanted me to wear, where in my room I would find said articles, and to bring the box that was sitting on the floor of my wife's closet, the one marked Danielle. In a half-daze, I went to my room, and pulled out the box under the bed that I hadn't noticed before. I opened the box, and on top of some tissue paper, were two bottles of hair remover, a lady's razor and blades, shaving cream that was supposed to retard future hair growth, and some lilac bath oil. There was also a plastic bag and a roll of surgical tape. Huh? A letter explained to me what I was supposed to do. I took the supplies into the bathroom, and as per instructions, I stripped, and placed the bag around my penis and balls, and used the tape to hold it there. The note told me that this was too keep the hair remover off of these sensitive areas. I slathered the smelly cream all over the rest of my body, with the exception of my face and head, and then ran the bath full of hot water. After the required time, I got in the shower, and using a loofah, scrubbed all the hair off of my body. As per instructions, I also washed my hair in the shampoo provided in the shower. Hmm, more flowery scent. Unwrapping my cock and balls, I added the lilac oil to the hot water, and slowly lowered myself into the hot water. There, I used the razor to remove any stray hairs the Nair had missed, shaved my underarms, and then closely shaved my cock and balls, and my butt crack. As I was doing all of this, I kept wondering why I was just going along with some silly note, but a louder voice in my head told me that it was not only what was required of me, but what I wanted to do. I wasn't sure I believed that voice, but... An hour later, I stepped out of the cooling tub, and gingerly patted myself dry, slipped on my sheer peignoir robe, dried my hair and put it into a ponytail, and went back to the box. Under the next layer was a bottle of lilac scented body lotion, and a note telling me to use this to prevent chafing from the shaving. I liberally rubbed it all over, and the feeling of the silky cream on my now smooth skin really felt weird, but very nice. Another layer of tissue, and there was a pair of delicate white stockings on top of something. I pulled it out, and it was a white satin corset, with cute little pink bows. The note told me to pull on the stockings, and to remember just how I had watched Fiona do it. I balled them up, and then rolled them up my legs, savoring the feel of the sheer material against my skin. The note now said to put the corset on backwards, and lace it as tightly as I could, and then gently turn it around. With much grunting and tugging, this was accomplished after about twenty minutes. I then attached the garter straps to the stockings. Next item out of the box was a pair of frilly white satin panties with lace everywhere, a huge pink bow on the leg openings at each hip, and even bigger one in the back on the waistband, and two small ones on the front of the waistband. Okay, in my current state, I did what I was told. I then got dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, pulling socks on over the stockings, and my brown loafers. Next stop was Fiona's bedroom, where I found the box that had my name on it. It wasn't heavy, but seemed to be full. At the last moment, I took my pacifier out of my mouth, and stuck it in my pocket, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out the door to Dr. Foster's office. I jumped into my car, or rather Fiona's new car. Why I was driving her new, fuchsia VW beetle, and she was driving my new black Lexus I just couldn't remember, but I decided that wasn't important. When I got to the Doctor's office, I noticed that there was a small sign that read "Closed, please ring bell if you have an appointment." I rang, and Gwen came to the door to let me in. Except, the Gwen that answered the door was dressed a lot differently than normal! She was wearing a long black satin skirt, and peeking out underneath were a pair of shiny black high heels. Looking upwards, she had on a semi-sheer white satin blouse with ruffles down the front, long sleeves that ended in ruffles at her wrists, and a ruffled collar. I could make out the lacy bra under the blouse, and the nipples on her pert breasts poking through. Her hair was done up in a bun, and she looked like she was ready for a photo shoot as a sexy school teacher! She took the box from me, and told me to follow her. Watching that beautiful bottom sway under that tight black satin made following her easy! I was led into a room that I hadn't been in before, and Gwen turned to me and said, "Now, Darling Danielle, I want you to take off all your boy clothes, and hang them on the hook on the door. Put your socks in your shoes, and place them here beside the door. I'll be back in two minutes to get you." With some trepidation, I did as I was told, and was now standing in a doctor's office, wearing panties, stockings, and a corset, and feeling rather silly. I retrieved the pacifier from my jeans, and after sticking it in my mouth, started to feel a little bit better. When the door opened, Gwen was standing there with a pair of shoes in her hands. Well, a pair of white high heels with little ankle straps to be exact. I was told to sit on the stool, and she knelt down and fastened the shoes on my feet. Telling me to stand, she led me over to a hook eye in the wall, about eighteen inches over my head. Taking a pair of handcuffs from the box I had brought, (Handcuffs? Oh shit!) she cuffed my hands, and using a small clip, attached the chain of the cuffs to the eye. She then began to untie the bow in the corset lacings. This was good, as the corset was rather tight, and was bothering me. My relief was short-lived, however, as she violently pulled the laces tighter, and then putting her knee in my back, tighter still! I started to moan and complain, and she just sighed. Moving beside me, she told me to look at her. She raised the hem of her skirt, displaying a pair of rose patterned black stockings, and then a pair of black silk panties that were lovely. Hooking her thumbs under the waistband of the delicate panties, she slowly pulled them down her legs, letting the skirt drop back into position. She held this treasure up to my face, removed my pacifier, and told me to tell her how pretty they were. As I opened my mouth to speak, she jammed the panties into my mouth, making sure they were firmly in place. She then took a ribbon, passed it through the ring in the pacifier, and jammed it into my mouth, tying the ribbon off behind my head. She now went back to finish her task, making the corset even tighter than I thought it could possibly go. I could only moan, and try to get enough air into my crushed lungs through my nose. Still gagged, I was released from the wall, and with Gwen leading me by the handcuff chains, I was led/dragged into the hall, and down to Dr. Foster's office. Imagine my surprise when I found the doctor wearing a long silk robe and slippers! Well, not quite as surprising as seeing my beautiful wife lounging on the sofa wearing the most beautiful, floor length, black silk nightgown and marabou trimmed, high-heeled mules. I was led to a chair in the center of the room, and told to sit down. The cuff on my left wrist was taken off, and I was told to put my hands behind the chair back, where they were cuffed together again, pulling hard on my shoulders. Gwen the knelt by my feet, and using nylon and Velcro restraints that were already attached to the chair, my feet were pulled back beside each chair leg and bound there. I had no idea what was going on, and while I was somewhat content to do what I was told, as my programming told me I should, warning bells were going off in my head like crazy! Gwen left the room, and there was silence for what felt like hours. Finally, like a sleek cat, Fiona uncoiled herself from the dark red leather couch. She walked over to me, and ran her manicured finger under my chin, pulling my face up to look her in the eye. She had a smile on her face as her other hand caressed my nipples with her nails. "Now, Darling Danielle," she almost purred, "I want you to know that I love you very much. You are a gentle man, overly generous to me with your money, and I know you love me. That's not what this is all about. What's it about? I'm glad you asked! (Here she had to suppress a giggle, knowing that I was quite mute in my panty and pacifier gag.) What it IS about is SEX! Wild, rampant sex with a man, a man who has a huge cock and knows how to use it. You're little thingie is only half as long, and maybe 1/3 as thick as Dr. Foster's cock. Yes, dear, I know how big is cock is because we have been lovers for a few weeks now. That's why August, or Dr. Foster to you, has used his talents as a hypnotist, and combined them with some of the experimental drugs I'm working on in the lab, and made you into our little plaything. I can make you into an emasculated man, a simpering little sissy, or I can turn you into a diaper wearing baby, all with a simple trigger phrase. As long as we keep up the drug and subliminal message regimen, you are ours to play with. And, who knows, after a while, it might be a permanent imprint on your little mind! Dr. Foster now joined my wife, possessively wrapping an arm around her tiny waist. "You see, Danielle, today is the day where we show you the reality of your life. Fiona and I are lovers, and I really don't like competition, even from a tiny cock, like you. To say my mind was racing in circles at a million miles an hour at this point would be a huge understatement! With that pronouncement, Dr. Foster shed his robe. The likeness to a football player was accurate, right down to the 6 pack abs, and a cock the size of a football! He and Fiona began to kiss, his hands running up and down her back, cupping her perfect ass cheeks, while I sat there, bound and gagged, dressed in girly lingerie. It was about this time that Gwen wandered back in, wearing an outfit that almost made me forget that I was a bound sissy cuckold. Sky high black high heels, that beautiful pair of rose patterned stockings, a black satin bustier that really accented her breasts and hips, and a pair of tight black bikini panties with little white ruffles across the backside. Elbow length black satin gloves, a black ruffled choker, all covered over with a sheer black peignoir that left everything on view, but gave the illusion of modesty. As Dr. Foster and my wife continued to kiss and fondle each other, Gwen moved around behind me and began to gently massage my nipples. I noticed that the corset had pushed the loose skin up into a semblance of small breasts. As she gently tweaked and pulled at my nipples, I was astonished at how sensitive they were. I knew that women's breasts were an erogenous zone, but had no idea that it could be the same with men! As Gwen began to kiss my neck, Fiona had moved her hand down, and was slowly stroking Dr. foster's huge cock. She slowly sank to her knees, her gown billowing out around her feet, and then she began to kiss his cock, slowly licking the head, and then licking the whole thing like it was a popsicle that was melting, and she wanted to catch all the drips. I wanted to be outraged, but instead I was panting like a racehorse, and my cock was hard as a rock inside my panties! I got a bit of jolt when I thought about these being my panties. Not something I was told to wear, but mine! At that point, Gwen announced that she thought I was ready. Ready for what, I had no idea, but I was soon to find out, much to my chagrin. Fiona gave that cock one more kiss, and then stood up and came over to me. Between her and Gwen, my restraints were removed, and I was told to stand up. My wrists were once again cuffed behind my back. They led me on shaky legs out of the room, and into another room that I had never been in before. It was a small apartment, with a large bed as the center piece. It looked like an efficiency suite at a mid-priced hotel. Still naked, the doctor informed me that this was his emergency bedroom, and sometimes slept here when he didn't have time, or just didn't want to drive all the way home. He also casually mentioned that my beautiful wife liked the mattress here better than the one at home. That shook me! I was led to the foot of the bed, and told to spread my legs. Like an obedient puppet, I did. Restraints were attached to each ankle, spreading my legs even further. Gwen grabbed the chain between my cuffs, and pulled up, forcing me to bend over. At this, Fiona attached a collar around my neck, and ran a rope from the ring in the collar to some attachment lower down. Gwen now released my wrists, allowing my shoulders to quit feeling as though they were coming out of their sockets. As a final touch, Fiona leaned into me, kissed me on the ear, and whispered, "Darling Danielle, this is for the best. You be a good girl, and I'll give you a very nice reward." With that, the pacifier and now soaked panties were removed from my aching mouth. So, there I was. I was dressed in sissy lingerie, bound hand and foot, with my head lower than my ass. I knew something bad was coming; I just wasn't sure what it was. Well, at least I could breathe better. A super tight corset and gag make for some very lightheaded moments, and not in a good way! Now, if they would just loosen this damn corset! Well something was removed, but not what I wanted... Gwen moved behind me and began to slowly lower my frilly ruffled panties. I assumed a spanking or something worse was coming, but that's not what I got. I heard some noise behind me, and what sounded like a rubber glove, and then a very chilly finger was shoved into my backside. Gwen was smearing something in my butt hole, and all I could think of was lubricant. But, if she was putting lube in my anus, then something else would follow... and follow it did. I felt the pressure of something hard pushing against my sphincter muscle. At first it wasn't too bad, kinda like taking a dump when things are a bit hard. Then the pain went to constipation level, and then jumped off the scale! I thought she was trying to fit a '59 Buick into my ass! I screamed and cried, and begged them to stop this, but I might as well have gone to the beach and begged the tide not to come in! Suddenly, with a huge flash of pain, an almost audible pop, and a very loud scream from me, the torture device seated itself fully into my ass. Fiona got off the bed, after kissing my cheek, and joined Gwen. They started strapping something around me, finally pulling my hard cock through some sort of ring. As the straps were cinched tight around my thighs and waist, the thing in my ass was pushed in even further, causing me more discomfort. Finally, they wiped my bottom with cool wipes, and pulled my panties back up. Fiona then stepped beside me and told me to look at her. "This is what is inside you right now, Darling Danielle," she said, holding up what looked like a traditional butt plug. "This is what is known as an anal dilator. You see the neck? (She was pointing to the section below the bulbous head) You see how it's straight, and rather thick? This will train your little ass to accept what it so richly deserves, a real man's cock." I started to say something, and was warned that one word, and I would be spanked, hard, and the gag put back in. As it was, she merely inserted my pacifier, and tied the ribbon behind my head. "Now, where was I," she mused. "Oh yes! These come in a set of 4, and the one you're looking at right now is the second one. We have the smallest one inside of you right now, and you will wear it for an hour, maybe more if you're naughty. I might as well tell you, that even an hour's wearing for the first time will be very, very uncomfortable, and well, we wouldn't want to make it two, or even three hours, now would we?" The rope that was attached to my collar was now undone, and the collar was turned so the ring was now in the back. The rope was then tightly tied from the ring to a bar between my ankles, forcing me to either strangle myself, or keep my head up. This was very uncomfortable. Not, as it turned out, as uncomfortable as what was to come. Dr. Foster, still naked, stood behind Fiona and began to kiss her neck, and fondle her small, but perfect breasts. At the same time, Gwen did the same to me, both causing me to moan into my pacifier. Running his hands slowly up Fiona's body, he lightly took hold of the thin spaghetti straps of her gown and slid them down her arms. The silk slid down her body, and puddled at her feet in a soft sibilant whisper. She lightly stepped out of the mass of silk, and was now standing face to face with the doctor, wearing nothing but the black mules and a pair of tiny black silk panties with tie sides. A quick tug by the doctor's roaming hands, and this final, fragile and delicate piece of fabric, this last defense of her body, slipped away to float to the floor at her feet. He picked my wife up and with her legs wrapped around him, he stepped to the bed, and lowered her onto her back. Climbing in beside her, he started kissing her again, and then moved to her sensitive nipples, causing her to moan and writhe, and quite frankly, eliciting the same response from me! He slid around until he was between her legs, and without any hesitation, Fiona's legs were wrapped around his neck, and he began to slowly slide that enormous cock into her soaking wet pussy! As he did this Gwen's hand slipped down and began caressing my obviously inferior cock through the soft satin of my panties, while she continued to kiss my neck and cheek. I was so turned on, and frankly confused, that I forgot all about the telephone pole that was jammed into my ass! Dr. Foster began to slowly slip his cock in and out of her pussy, causing Fiona to moan and pant, matching his thrusts with her hips. Faster and faster, like a piston on a steam locomotive, his cock slammed in and out of my wife's pussy, causing a slurping sound only barely audible above his grunting and my wife's moaning. Suddenly, Gwen's hand went under the waistband of my panties, and her softly gloved hand wrapped around my cock, and began jacking me off to the rhythm of the two fucking on the bed. With a strangled cry, I filled her hand and my panties with cum, just moments before Fiona screamed, and Dr. Foster grunted like a bull. He slowly collapsed onto Fiona's sweating body, and they just lay there, panting and occasionally kissing each other, in a post coital bliss that I had never been able to bring about. We all seemed to be exhausted, except for Gwen, who now moved to release my collar, and then my ankle restraints. I was led around to the side of the bed and pushed down to my knees. Now, like most men, when I've cum, all I want to do is just lay there. My entire libido seems to be spent, and the need for sexual contact just evaporates. So, while I didn't know what was going to happen, I really wasn't in the mood for anything. As though anyone in the room other than me gave a damn what I was in the mood for, wanted, needed, or desired. Fiona untangled herself from the doctor, and then stretched languidly. She slid over on the bed until her legs were on either side of my head. I could smell her pussy, and could see how wet and distended her lips were. She reached down and pulled the pacifier out of my mouth, and let it dangle under my chin, and without any comment, slid forward and pushed my head into her sopping pussy. I knew what she wanted, and while I didn't want to do it, I was afraid of the consequences for disobedience. Slowly I began to lick her pussy, tasting her, and in the process, tasting him. She pushed my head tighter, and squeezed her muscles, and a large dollop of white creamy cum slid into my mouth. I almost gagged, but kept on licking and kissing until Fiona had another orgasm, and pushed my head away. I was helped to stand, had my restraints removed, and was taken to the small, but very nice ensuite bathroom. Gwen first removed my corset, shoes, and hose, and then had me bend over the toilet, where she slid my panties down and removed my harness. To my surprise, the '59 Buick that she had rammed up inside me actually slid out on its own! No, it wasn't anything close to pain free, but I was able to force it out on my own. I was told to pick it up, and wash it well in the sink, and then to clean the spot on the white tile floor. Once that was done, Gwen produced a plastic bag for the dilator, and I was told to take a dump, and clean myself up. I was also to put the panties I was wearing in a separate bag and to come to back to the bed without any panties. Dr. Foster was now dressed in a pair of black slacks, a dress shirt with tiny blue and white checks, and a pair of slippers. Fiona was lounging on the bed, back in her nightgown. I was led to the bed, and told to lie down on the pad. I looked down and saw that there was a pink vinyl pad on the left side of the bed. I did as I was told, flinching at the feel of the cold plastic against my bare bottom. Fiona leaned over and kissed my cheek, whispering one word in my ear, "Babykins." With that one word I went from an obedient sissy to an almost inert lump of flesh, knowing that I was incapable of doing anything for myself. The box that I had brought with me was opened, and I finally found what was in it. First, a very, very thick cloth diaper was pinned around me, after a liberal dusting of baby powder. After the diaper was pinned tightly, A pair of plastic panties were worked over my feet, and then up my legs. After being told to lift my bottom, the plastic panties were pulled into place, and snugged around my diaper. I was helped to sit up, and a soft satin baby doll nightie was pulled over my head, the delicate pink fabric floating down around my body felt deliciously light and airy, especially after that horrid corset. Those mittens that look so cute, but actually are padded satin prisons for my hands were pulled on, as were matching satin baby booties. Since I was already wearing that bonnet, the big baby effect was complete. What I wasn't ready for was what came next. My pacifier was once again tied tightly into my mouth, and those adorable but hellish mittens were clipped together, and fastened to the D ring on my collar. (I'd honestly forgotten about the collar! Nylon and Velcro cuffs were placed on each ankle, and then clipped together. Finally, a wide nylon strap was placed across my stomach, pinning me to the bed. It was then that the lightning bolt struck. "Daniel Eric Johnson!" my wife almost yelled out. "What in the hell are you doing dressed like a baby?" I seemed to suddenly come awake, or something, and found that I was bound to a bed, dressed like a baby, and that I couldn't move! I thrashed around, yelling around the pacifier, trying to find a way to get loose. I was protesting, swearing, yelling, and all the time, Fiona was standing there, alternately laughing at me, and calling me all sorts of vile names, like, "sissy," "fag," and "pantywaist." When I finally ran out of steam, and realized I was not going to be able to break out of these restraints, I just lay there, looking at her, and kept trying to ask her, "Why?" "Why?!" she almost yelled. "Why? I'll tell you why! You're a pathetic lover, thinking you can satisfy me with that tiny cock, satisfy me when you cum in a minute or less, then roll off me and go to sleep! You're so damn weak, you can't even stop smoking by yourself! You spend half your day looking at internet porn, and then get drunk in the evening. I need a man who can satisfy me, who wants to make love to me, who KNOWS how to make love to me!" Fiona looked exhausted after that diatribe, but for some reason, she also looked happy, as though that was something she had wanted to say for a long, long time. I just lay there in stunned silence, not even caring what I was wearing, or why. Fiona got her wind back, and in an almost conversational tone, went on, "You see, I'm now in control. I could use a trigger word to send you right back to being a baby, or a simpering sissy. And make no mistake, I will. But for right now, I want you to realize what you are, and what your future holds for you. I plan on making you my little house servant, or your might say, slave. You will do all the housework, cooking, etc, while I get to relax, and yes, have sex with anyone I choose, anytime I choose. I have already hired a "Nanny" for you, who will look after you when I leave the house. She knows all about your trigger phrases, and we will continue to use conditioning so that, in time, you will not need the extra drugs or conditioning tapes, and will revert naturally, or, if we are really lucky, stay a little sissy, without the use of the triggers. For now, you are going to stay here for a few days, while we do some remodeling at the house, and then I'm going to take you home. You WILL have a choice. You can go home as a man, or we will regress you, dress you up in your baby clothing, strap you into a push chair, and then parade you down the street." With that, she turned on her heels, and left the room, followed by the "good" doctor. She was replaced by an older, but not unattractive woman, who walked up to the bed, and just stared at me. As I lay there, still stunned, she smiled and told me her name was Nanny Susan, and then she uttered one word, "Babykins." I think four or five days passes with me in my "baby state," in the doctor's private suite. I was waited on, hand and foot, by the nanny, and for the most part, I stayed either on the bed, or on a vinyl pad in front of the television, which was tuned to the Sprout network, where I watched hours of cartoons meant for toddlers. The Nanny didn't really talk to me, rather cooed, and used cutesy words while changing my diapers, or bathing me. All the time, she kept calling me Babykins, to reinforce control, or rather my lack of control. In the back of my mind, I knew what was going on, and knew that this was so very wrong, but couldn't hold the thought in my head long enough to even try to talk about it, let alone do anything. Finally, the doctor and Fiona were back. I was on the bed, wearing a stupid pink cotton onesie with fairies on it, and of course, my diaper and plastic pants. Fiona whispered in Nanny's ear, and she sort of chuckled, and in that sickeningly sweet voice, told me that it was time for "Widdle baby Danielle to get a nice widdle bath." I took Nanny's hand, as I was told, and waddled in those thick diapers to the bathroom, where I was undressed and helped into a hot tub with some sort of floral bath oil. Nanny washed me, even sticking her finger up my bum several times, "to make sure I was squeaky clean." After I was helped out, she had me lean over the side of the tub while kneeling on a soft pad, and she washed my hair with shampoo that had that same floral scent. I was dried off, and my hair vigorously toweled as dry as she could get it, and then told to sit on the "big people's potty," while she applied a blow dryer and brush. Still naked, I was led back to the bedroom, and had another very thick cloth diaper pinned tightly around me, followed by a pair of translucent pink plastic pants. This time, though, Nanny also pulled a pair of white tights up my legs, snugging them over the diapers and plastic pants. I had a vague memory of Fiona telling me I could go home like a man, so I wasn't worried, yet. My pacifier was once again tied into my mouth with a pink ribbon that went behind my head, but sort of under my longish hair. She went to the door, and motioned, and Fiona came into the room, radiant in a short tartan skirt, stockings, high heels, and a pink blouse. I could see her nipples poking through the thin material of her bra and blouse, and for some reason, all I wanted to do was suck them! She had dry cleaner's bag and a handled shopping bag with her, and in a very short time, I was wearing another over-the-top sissy dress of white satin, dripping with pink bows and ribbons. The dress was very short, and showed of my diapered state very well. A pair of matching panties were pulled up my legs, and settled over the already thick layers of cotton, plastic, and nylon, and my feet were buckled into a pair of Mary Jane shoes. A frothy white satin bonnet with a pink ribbon trim was next, and the final piece was a pair of matching fingerless satin mittens, that once again left my hands useless. Now, the whole time I was in "baby mode," everything I ate or drank came from Nanny. I was spoon fed bland and nasty baby food, and either drank apple juice or warm milk from a bottle. I learned later that each bite, each sip was laced with the psychotropic drugs and a large dose of female hormones. Combined with Nanny's constant use of the trigger phrase, I was a moldable lump of clay who would have jumped off a bridge if someone had told me to. So, when Fiona wheeled in a child's push chair, scaled up in size for an adult, I didn't even think to question it in my conscious mind, although, that little voice was trying to tell me something. I was led, waddling, to the chair, and helped in. A pink belt was buckled around my waist, and the little D rings attached to my mittens were clipped to the arms. My ankles were secured to the chair by wide pink ribbons, and I was starting to get nervous. As well I should have been! Suddenly, Fiona called out my name, "Daniel Eric Johnson!" And I was instantly aware of my condition and situation! But, before I could utter a word, Fiona leaned down and looked me in the eyes, telling me that if I said one word, I would stay a baby for life. I kept my voice to myself. "Now Daniel," she went on, "I gave you the choice of going home a man or a baby, and I think I have a nice compromise. In your mind, you are now an adult male, although one who thinks his place is waiting on his wife, and wearing lingerie. But, you are dressed as a sweet little baby! You see, I want you to fully experience the humiliation of being a big swishy sissy! Nanny will push you the three blocks home, going through the park. If you put up a fuss, it will merely draw more attention to you. If you put up too much of a fuss, Nanny will regress you, and put you over her knee, and give you a bare bottom spanking in public. Hopefully in the park, where all the phone cameras will be turned in your direction! So, if you sit quietly, and do as Nanny says, there will be much less fuss for you to worry about! In fact, if you say one adult word, I think I will have Nanny wait until she is in the park and give you a spanking, and maybe even a diaper change in public. So, one word, just one little word, from now until you get home, and we will increase your public humiliation a hundred fold. If you understand, merely nod your head." I nodded, tears coming into my eyes. My wife, whom I loved and worshipped, was treating me like some pathetic toy. The worst part was that anything I did to assert myself would result in more pain and humiliation than anyone could bear. So, I nodded. I hoped that by keeping my head down the whole way, I could avoid being recognized, and not have to see the people whom I knew would be laughing at me. The slow walk home was as horrible as I had imagined. At least a dozen women stopped Nanny to look at the "baby," laughing hysterically when Nanny explained that I was an adult who preferred to wear satin, lace, and diapers. One woman in particular scared the Hell out of me when she told Nanny that she kept her husband in panties, and made him sleep in a nightgown every night. She suggested that maybe she should bring her sissy over, and we might have some "fun" together, as she kept her husband in chastity most of the time, and he would welcome some real sex, even with another sissy! I was really scared when Nanny wrote down the woman's name and phone number, and promised to have my wife call her! I was never so glad to hear the front door close behind me, a solid wooden shield against the world. I was less glad when I was wheeled down the hall of my lovely farmhouse style house, and into the guest suite. This was a small living room, two bedrooms, and a full bath built at the end of the house for the two teenage boys of the previous owner. The living room had been redecorated, with a large flat screen TV, a very nice leather chair and ottoman, and a rocking chair, along with the small sofa that was already there. I noticed that on the far side of the room was a rather large something, covered in a sheet. I was about to ask about all of this when I was wheeled into the right bedroom. I lost it! I yelled, screamed, cursed, and after a few minutes, Fiona had enough. She produced a hypodermic needle, and professionally injected something into my arm. At first, nothing happened, but like a wave rolling up my body, I felt my feet, then legs, then torso, then arms becoming limp and unwilling to follow my directions. Finally, my voice began to slur, and then all I could do was gurgle and drool. I figured I had been hit with one of those so-called date rape drugs, because I could still see and hear, and knew what was going on around me. I was in some sort of warped fantasy of a little girl's room with pale pink walls with a ballerina themed border around the top. All the previously dark wood trim was now painted gloss white. And all the furniture had been removed, and replaced with a large white and pink crib, an oversized baby changing table, and a rocking chair. In one corner was a rocking horse, with what looked like a huge dildo coming up from the saddle! I was lugged by Fiona and Nanny over to the changing table, where my dress, panties, stockings and shoes were removed. A white satin nightgown was pulled over my head, and I saw that it was long enough to go past my feet. In fact, there was a drawstring in the hem, and it was pulled tight, leaving me in a frilly, white satin bag! I was again, half-carried, half-drug across the room, and heaved into the crib, where the side was pulled up, and a barred top was swung into place and locked. They now reached in, and secured each hand to a side of the crib, and bidding me "nightie-night," they turned off the lights and left me to my dark thoughts. I finally fell asleep, and during the night, I not only got the feeling back in my body, but I also pissed my diaper. Now, I knew that when I was regressed, I did that a lot, but for a grown man to knowingly be wearing diapers, and dressed like a simpering fool, and to piss those diapers is another thing altogether. To say was humiliated would be a huge understatement! As the sun came in through the lacy curtains in my girly prison, the door opened to Nanny and Fiona. Nanny was wearing a long skirt and a frilly white blouse, and Fiona was wearing a long turquoise nightgown. I started to complain, and to make my case that this wasn't right, when Nanny shushed me, and told me that if I said anything else, I would either be regressed again, or given another shot. Fearing the worst, I shut up once again. Then, Fiona laid out her plans. "Now Darling," she began in a soft voice, "here's the game plan. You are now a cuckold. If you don't already know, that is a man whose wife sleeps with other men, whether he knows it or not. You can never make me happy in bed, and so, I have to find other men who can make me happy. I can't have you running around, spraying testosterone, while I entertain other men in my bed, so from now on, you will be my maid. You will dress the part, learn and act the part, and will not fight me. IF you do, you will spend the rest of your days in that crib, having your diapers changed. That is, until I find a judge who will declare you mentally incompetent, and then you will still spend your days in diapers and dresses, but I will have complete control of all the money, and your future. Wait, I have that now! Silly me!" She began to giggle at the thought. "Now, starting today, you will learn how to walk and talk like a female, how to sit, stand, and do everything like a female. You will also learn how to curtsey, and to wait on me hand and foot. Of course, each night, Nanny will put you to bed in your cute widdle crib, unless I need you to "entertain" my guests. If you understand what I have told you, nod once. NOT if you agree with it, that isn't your choice. Simply nod once for understanding." I lay there for a long time, and finally slowly nodded that I understood. I saw no way out of this mess, but hoped that I would find an exit soon. Then, it would be me that would be looking for a judge! Fiona was not going to have the last laugh this time! Boy was I wrong! For the next two weeks, I barely left that nursery/house-of-horror. Each morning I was strapped into a corset that was so damn tight I had trouble breathing, and then I was forced to spend an hour or more practicing my curtsey, each day in higher heels, until I had to do it in 7 inch ballet heels. Those last shoes were totally evil, and hurt my feet just putting them on. After an hour of curtsey practice, my feet, calves, thighs, and even my back were screaming in pain. As an added "bonus," I had to wear one of those damn anal dilators each day while practicing. By the end of the two weeks, I not only had perfected the sissiest curtsey in the world, but learned to do it in impossible heels with a huge dilator plug in my ass! Why did I put up with it? Well, the few times I tried to protest, Nanny would use that trigger word, "Babykins," and I would find myself diapered in a trice. Then my "loving" nanny would wheel my push chair into the room, and announce that I would be strapped in, and taken to the park, where I would spend the entire day dressed in one of my baby dresses, bonnet, mittens, and the rest, but in my adult mode. This little trip would include public diaper changes and a public spanking. You see, I really had no choice. After my curtsey practice, it was on to walking. Again with the graduated high heels, I had to learn how to take little mincing steps, aided by a short ribbon tied between each ankle. At least I only had to wear a butt plug for my walking exercises. Nanny claimed it would help me learn to sway my ass and develop a delicate swishy gait. "Normal" walking involved this short mincing step, and holding my arms by my side, wrists cocked out, so my hands were parallel to the floor. If I was given the command to "Mince," I had to hold my arms bent, hands at my shoulders, again with the wrists cocked out, hands parallel to the floor. Trust me, after walking in circles in high heels like this, I not only hurt, but felt as stupid as a human being could feel. Maybe the CIA could use this shit instead of water boarding! Now, some time back we had hired a lady who came in twice a week to clean, and I found that she was still going to come in. My job would be less maid, and more like lady-in-waiting to my wife. How did I find out we still had a maid? There I was in frothy, frilly, lemon colored satin knickers, a matching garter belt and camisole, white thigh high stockings, and 5 inch white strappy heels, with a white ribbon between my ankles. I was wearing a sheer negligee and little ruffled cuffs with jingle bells on them. Nanny was seated in the rocking chair, and I was doing curtsey after curtsey. I barely glanced up as the door opened, but actually froze when I saw it was Mrs. Good, our housecleaner! I quick slash to my ass with a cane brought me back to reality, and to my practice. For the next 20 minutes, Mrs. Good sat down next to Nanny, and they discussed how silly I looked, and what a sissy I was. I don't think a beet red face goes well with lemon yellow lingerie... Each night I was regressed, diapered, and secured into my locking crib. Many nights, Nanny would un-regress me, so I could savor the humiliation all night. Those nights were the worst. Why were they so bad? Well, I forgot to mention that on the first day of my "training," while I was regressed to baby status, Fiona and Nanny secured my undersized cock in a stainless steel chastity cage that prevented me from getting hard, and certainly prevented me from masturbating. On those nights as an adult in satin and diapers, Nanny would put on a porn tape, usually lesbian porn, and strip down to very sexy underwear and masturbate in front of me. A few nights, Fiona joined her, and I was forced to watch these two ladies play with themselves in their scanties, watch the porn, and thanks to the mittens, the restraints, and the chastity device, could do nothing about it! Oh yes, Fiona promised me that the cage would come off soon, but after two weeks, I wondered what her definition of soon was. The whole time I was in "training," any time I was alone or sleeping, one of the "relaxation" CDs was always playing, especially when I did my "curtsey training". Then, I had to wear Bluetooth headphones, and the CD was all that I could hear. Sometimes it was soft music, other times it was the sounds of nature, but all the time, buried in the sound, was the ever present subliminal messages. Every now and then, when I really concentrated, I could hear snatches of a soft voice saying things like, "I love wearing panties," and, "I need to wear soft, frilly lingerie." I know there were other messages, but what they were, and how they affected me, I was left to guess. I learned later, when it was too late, what some of these suggestions really were. Finally, my "training" was done. I now knew how to apply my own make- up. I also knew how paint finger and toe nails (mine or someone else's), set a table, serve at the table, do laundry (paying particular attention to my wife's delicates), iron clothes, as well as sit, stand, get in and out of a car, walk, and of course, curtsey. I was required to do the latter anytime I entered a room when someone was there, when I left that room, and when given a command. The only exception would be if my hands were full, and then all I had to do is dip and bow my head a bit. Whew! That night, Nanny told me that tonight would be special for me. "Darling Danielle," she began, "tonight your wife wants you to join her in her bed. We're going to remove your chastity device, and allow you to wear something more adult." To say I was excited would be an understatement! I spent the rest of the day on cloud nine. No training today, and Nanny even asked me if I wanted to lounge around and watch TV in diapers or just a nightie! She didn't tell me, she asked me! For some reason, though, I chose to wear a diaper, plastic panties, and a short satin nightgown. All in lacy pink, of course! (Was this a result of subliminal training?) The only chore I had today was to paint my finger and toenails in a pretty pink polish, and to use topcoat. I didn't know what was happening to me, I mean, I even thought of the nail polish I was told to apply as "pretty!" At about six that evening, after a real dinner (no baby food, no bottle), a gla