A Sissy's Progress - Chapter Twenty-Three

"That's so good, baby. You've been doing so well!"

Mommy is back, fresh from the shower and towering over me once more. I roll stiffly onto my back and gaze up at her with widening eyes. Oh, hello! I've never seen this outfit before in my life, but somehow it seems completely fitting...

Pink fabric flows over her full breasts and down past her knees, stopping well short of her elegant beige heels. A white collar circles her neck, and a white, ruffled apron her waist. Her hair is pulled back into a lovely bun, and I spot little sparkles in her ears. It's the sort of ensemble a housewife from 1958 might wear - and oddly enough, I'm here for it.

"Time to get my little sissy baby ready," she coos, and then I'm scrambling onto my knees, my gut twinging again with the effort. "Come on, baby, time for your bath! Hurry now - we don't want to be late..." Maybe we don't want to be there at all, I muse darkly as I trundle along behind her, my sodden diapers swaying heavily between my thighs as I crawl onward. I haven't the slightest idea where she's planning on taking me, but it can't be anywhere good.

And then we're in the bathroom. Off comes my pink onesie, my lacy socks, and the layers of plastic and cotton that have been swaddling my nether regions. Mommy wrinkles her nose as my urine-soaked diapers fall to the floor with a thud. "Such a little super soaker, aren't you?" But she's giggling as she herds me into the warm water and begins briskly sudsing me up. "Aww, you're going to smell so sweet and clean!"

I try not to look at myself while she's bathing me. Quarantine and babyhood haven't done my body many favors, and I'm sure I've gained a couple of dozen pounds by now. Honestly, it's hard to feel good about myself when I glance down and see rolls and pudge where there used to be fit, toned muscle... But I guess babies and sissies shouldn't have muscle, should they?

The biggest surprise of all comes once she's done washing my hair and has slid me downward in the tub so she can clean my rear and privates. "Baby, Mommy's been very pleased with how much good work you've done today," she breathes, and I blush as I look up into her condescending smile. "So, as a reward, I think we're going to take this cage off for tonight. Wouldn't you like that?"

I nod vigorously enough to make waves in the water around me, and she chuckles even as she produces the key hanging from the chain around her neck. "Oh, my - so eager! Such an eager little baby, aren't you? It's okay; somehow I don't think you're going to need a cage anyway right now..." I feel her hands around my balls and limp cock, and then, with a tug and a pull, it's off. The sensation is nothing short of incredible: so light, so soft and naked. I'm free at last!

Now if I could only shake off the suspicious voice in my head, whispering pessimistically that Mommy would never be so nice if she didn't have something even more nasty in store...

But no time to dwell on that. I'm slipping out of the bath then, and Mommy is wrapping me in my fluffy pink towel, drying me as if I'm a two-year-old who doesn't know his right hand from his left.  "Come on, baby, let's get you all dressed," she orders, pushing my towel-swathed form before her - out the door, down the hall, and into my room, there to push me firmly onto my crinkling bed.

"Gotta get you all nice and smelling sweet," she smiles, and then she's rubbing baby lotion into my entire body, from my face to my toes. It smells nice enough, so I don't make a fuss - not that it would make much difference. Besides, I'm pretty used to the scent by now...

And then I hear her giggling. "Aww, guess it's a good thing we have this towel here, hmm?" I crane my neck up and realize with a shock that I seem to have dribbled all over Mommy's hand as she was rubbing lotion into my crotch. My face warms as I realize what sort of infantile deed I've just done, but oddly, she's simply laughing and shaking her head. "Aww, what else can one expect from a sweet little diaper baby, really? Guess it just goes to show that I'm going to need to make sure my little stinker is extra-well protected!"

And on come the well-powdered diapers. Oh, don't expect me to talk about brands and models! I've honestly lost track of what she uses these days. There's some sort of white one with a thick booster inside, and I'm sure it's more than capable of absorbing a lot. But I'm guessing she's poked holes in it already, for on comes a larger one over it - a second layer of massive absorbency. This one is a blush-inducing shade of baby pink, and it too has its own booster. Finally, I see her pull out two large cloth diapers and begin folding them to slip beneath me. "Nothing like some fluffy, thirsty cloth dipies to make sure my baby stays nice and dry," she smiles as she stabs the over-sized pins into the material and pulls them tighter around the bulky bundle that is now my crotch. "Or at least, to keep him from leaving puddles all over the place, hmm?"

The plastic pants, pink and ruffled with three rows of lace across the seat, are no surprise to me.  Nor is the lock and chain that dangle from their waist. What does surprise me is that they actually seem to fit over the massive bulk between my legs. "These look adorable on you, honey," Mommy breathes in my ear, and my skin rises into tingling goose flesh as I feel the chain tightening inexorably around my waist. And then it comes: the soft click of the lock. "There. Now my sweet little baby's all safe and sound. We can't have little sissies trying to pretend they're actually big kids, now, can we?"

I'm blushing, staring down at the bed beneath me as she produces the next components of my outfit. "These are going to look adorable, too!" she coos, and within seconds she's pulling the pair of high white stockings up my smooth-shaven legs. "So cute and feminine!" Then comes the lacy white undershirt: just the sort of thing a real toddler girl might wear under a dress...

Oh, yes - there's a dress waiting for me, all right. I've never seen it before: pale lavender and white with smocking down the high-waisted front and a peter-pan collar, not to mention the rows of lace along the surprisingly short-cut hemline. It's undeniably a thing of beauty - if one's a girl, that is, and moreover one that's seriously into lolita fashion. I want to protest that I am neither. I'm a guy, a man who neither likes nor deserves such frilly, feminine stuff. I should be strong, confident, sexy and muscled and tanned...

But screaming and pouting and whining won't held, I know full well. As Mommy tugs first one, then two petticoats up and over the waddle-inducing bulk of my quadruple boosted diapers and plastic pants, I merely sniffle a bit and stare silently at the floor. Mommy's going to have her way regardless, so why fight it anymore? The only thing I can do is to obey, to avoid getting punished, and to try not to embarrass myself too much...

By soiling my diaper, for instance. Oh, I know it's going to happen sooner or later - and quite possibly sooner, judging by the cramps that are settling ever lower in my belly. But I can't quite bring myself right now to give in, to squat down and fill my so-recently changed diapers. Deep down I know I'm probably just making it worse for myself later on, but I simply can't bring myself to own up to that fact just yet...

For when a sissy baby like me has been stripped of so much, they apparently cling all the tighter to the few remaining shreds of control and dignity they have. Pathetic, maybe, but true.

I squirm quietly as Mommy at last slips the dress over my head and the soft, rustling garment settles into place on my frame. "Oh, it's a perfect fit," I hear her breathe, and I feel the ribbons around my waist tightening softly around me as she fastens them into what I can only suppose must be a frilly bow at my back. "You're going to be the sweetest little sissy baby girl that ever was, honey... My own darling little diaper baby, and no one else's."

Is it odd to say that my heart melts just a bit at those words? Oh, of course I'm still writhing in disgust and humiliation at the very idea that Mommy is dressing me up as her infantile little girl. But she does care about me. I am hers, and hers alone. No one else's. And, well... if I have to be someone's stupid, humiliated little sissy baby, I might as well be her sissy baby... right?

***

Thankfully it's dark by the time Mommy has finished my humiliating treatment and we step out into the garage. The sound of the gleaming new black mary jane shoes on my feet echoes unnaturally in my ears, and the rustle and swish of the petticoats around my legs as I waddle toward our van is a sensation unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's the most feminine I've felt in my entire life, and even though I'm growing ever more anxious about what lies in store for me, I can't deny that it's making me feel things I've never felt before. For much to my chagrin, deep within the layers of cotton and lace I can feel my unruly, recently freed little dick vainly beginning to stiffen...

I catch sight of my face in the rearview mirror as Mommy settles me into the back seat, and at once I'm both repulsed and mesmerized. My hair, long after month upon month of quarantine, has been pulled back into two blonde and be-ribboned pigtails on either side of my head. My face, freshly shaven and free of any incriminating bristles, is smooth with lotion; my mouth, working mutely behind the oversized guard of the flowered pacifier between my lips; my eyes, staring solemnly and shamefully back from the mirror.

I'm a baby girl. Oversized, to be sure, and with an odd masculine cut to my jaw and an unusually large adam's apple. But there's no denying that what I see before me now in that mirror resembles a two-year-old baby girl in her party best far more than it does a loving, mature husband out on the town with his wife...

Speaking of which, I have no idea where the hell we're going. Mommy's in the driver's seat, and all I can do is sit patiently, nursing my pacifier in the darkened silence, gazing mutely out the window as the city lights flash past...

As I sit there in my ruffled, padded, inwardly cramping splendor, I have the oddest feeling that I'm fast approaching something big: a new and decisive phase in my life, perhaps. But what exactly that might be, I haven't the slightest idea.

Only Mommy knows. Only Mommy can say.  And somehow, I don't think she's in the mood to divulge her plans just yet.