Penis Reduction Therapy For Sissies

The first rays of the new day’s sunlight were peeking over the tops of the trees in the neighborhood as I pulled into the driveway of my comfortable suburban home. Dawn was just breaking over our sleepy little town, although I had been doing anything but sleeping this night.

After shutting off the engine, I quietly closed the door and entered the house, doing my best to keep the noise to a minimum.

 Softly setting my purse and keys down on the end table, I walked silently down the hallway, being careful that my stiletto heels didn’t make their characteristic ‘click-clack-click’ on the hard wooden parquet floor. Although I was dead tired from the hours of all-night sex I’d just had, instead of going to the master bedroom, I slowly eased open the door to my husband’s nursery, creeping inside the silent room to check up on my sleeping sissy. As usual, the sour, pungent aroma of stale, wet diapers greeted me as a constant reminder of his childish bedwetting habit.

What had started as a temporary arrangement to accommodate his nocturnal issue, had gradually evolved into something completely different as a way of handling my husband’s sissyish tendencies.

 Bright morning sunlight was already filling the room through the window, and I paused for a moment to gaze around at my surroundings. It was quite the picture of effeminate toddler style, and perfect for a pantywaist who can’t be trusted without his diapers and waterproof panties.

In one corner, stood a pink, mesh-sided playpen, containing some plastic building blocks where Mikey now spends his afternoons, amusing himself with his baby toys and watching children’s shows. In the other, was the sissy’s pink dresser, with his dollies and stuffed animals neatly arranged on top. One drawer was opened, revealing his vast assortment of plastic and rubber panties, all in prissy shades of pink, yellow, white and lilac, with nursery prints, polka dots and other babyish designs. Across the room, his mirrored closet doors were also open, and his wardrobe of fancy ruffled dresses, onesies, and sissy tops could be seen in all their pretty pastel colors.

 Hanging on the wall next to the closet were two intimidating Spencer paddles, one, an instrument of unforgiving hard oak, and the other, a Lexan paddle, both of which have routinely brought Mikey to tears on those occasions when he had been fussy or naughty. Any resistance on his part usually evaporates by the third swat on his bare bottom—after that, he bawls like a baby, kicking his Mary Janes wildly as I punish him like the little sissy pantywaist that he is.

A low, vinyl covered changing table stood next to me, along with an extensive collection of diapering supplies; stacks and stacks of bunny soft cloth diapers, safety pins, several containers of baby powder, and tubes of Desitin to combat the ever present issue of his diaper rash. Although the original arrangement had been that he would only wear his diapers to bed for his problem, I soon changed it so that he was forced to wear his humiliating underwear during the daytime as well. This was to constantly reinforce his shame of being a bedwetter.

 Now his diapers are so second nature to him that he often pees himself without even being aware of it, waddling around in his soggy, sagging pampers until I decide to change the sissy.

 Of course, what dominated the room, was his pink and white crib, in which Mikey was currently sleeping peacefully.

 Moving quietly across the room to stand over the railing, I gazed down on his slumbering, curled up form. He looked happily content, with his pink rubber pacifier lodged firmly in his mouth and his favorite teddy bear clutched snugly in his skinny arms. I’m sure that both were a great comfort to him last night as he struggled to deal with the knowledge that his wife was once again, out getting pleased by a real man. He always whines and fusses when he knows I’m going out, and makes absurd promises of what he thinks he can do for me while I’m putting on my makeup and sexy lingerie. He knows my body is off limits to him but it still frustrates him to know another man will be making love to me later that night. I have to remind him that he is no longer a man in my eyes but a bedwetting sissy that needs diapers like a toddler, and that my big boobs are for real men to enjoy—not him. Sometimes I’ll let him zip up my skimpy cocktail dresses or buckle the tiny straps on my high heels but that’s as close as he gets to having any “sexual” interaction with me.

 Although his chastity device is nearly 100% effective, it was times like last night that I felt it was important to take extra precautions. Mikey has always been a chronic masturbator, and if left to his own devices, he is inclined to play with himself, partly out of frustration over his humiliating circumstances, but also because he’s just constantly horny. He only gets one orgasm every two months, so for the other 59 days, he’s beside himself with urgent sexual needs and desires. And while the chastity device is fine for everyday situations, there have been times when he gets so worked up that he’s actually been able to achieve a “ruined” orgasm, of sorts.

 To prevent any chance of that, I like to give him a nice, long, soapy enema before I go out (this being in addition to his usual morning enema). The thick rubber dildo nozzle I use teases and tantalizes his sensitive prostate gland and over the course of twenty minutes, as his anal muscles flex and struggle against the fat shaft buried inside him, it does a fabulous job of milking his sissy cream, leaving him high and dry with no means whatsoever of getting relief afterwards.

And I always make a point of wrapping a condom over the end of his chastity device to collect the fluid during the process. It never ceases to amaze me how much can be extracted in this manner. Of course, it all goes right back into his baby bottle for re-consumption.

Looking down at the empty bottle lying in his crib, a smile crossed my face as I wondered idly if he knew what had been added to his usual serving of warm milk last night.

It made me very happy to know that while he was chaste and asleep, wetting his diapers as he does every night, I, on the other hand, was over at Brad’s house, having the most fabulous sex of my life.

I sighed with satisfaction at the very thought of it. My nether regions were still pleasantly sore from the hours of rough sex and my nipples tingled within my sexy black push-up bra. How many orgasms had I had? Six? Seven? I had lost count.

Brad is such a wonderful lover and that monster of a cock he has...

I sighed again with contentment as I remembered him plunging it deep inside me, over and over again, reaching places I didn’t know were possible, as I screamed in ecstasy.

I suppressed a giggle when I thought of Mikey’s little baby penis, so utterly different from Brad’s, even before we had begun the reduction therapy.

When I first met my husband, his penis, when fully erect, barely measured four inches. It only took one time in the sack before I decided that he needed permanent chastity and a secure, steel device was ordered that very day. Mikey, sissy bedwetter that he was, had to say goodbye to all manner of sex and the simple pleasures of an erection that were his last fragile ties to manhood. Yes, he bitterly protested the change, but after a blistering session with my wooden paddle, he got right onboard with the chastity program.

But as his collection of diapers and dresses expanded, I learned about a revolutionary cream called Penis Away that when used consistently over time, gradually reduced the size of a man’s genitals. Needless to say, I was skeptical about whether such a cream could actually work but I bought a six month supply based on the many positive reviews it received. Mikey was understandably reluctant (to put it mildly) about using it, but after cajoling and browbeating him (and several more trips over my lap with the paddle), he gradually knuckled under.

To make it more appealing to him, I would unlock his device and slowly, lovingly rub it into the skin of his sack and shaft, allowing him to gaze lustfully down my skin tight tops and dresses at my deep cleavage. I think a part of him didn’t really believe the stuff would work which was why he went along with it—that, and it felt wonderful as my soft, creamy hands caressed his little member, the only time he could count on such intimate contact. Of course, I was extremely careful to make sure he never got an orgasm out of it (although there were several close calls) before locking him back into his steel chastity device.

He enjoyed these sessions for two months and I was both shocked and delighted to discover that his penis had actually lost a full inch in length. I was careful to disguise my joy, making him believe that the cream really was just a placebo; more gimmick than reality. But by the time four months had progressed, he began growing concerned as he could tell his tiny shaft was definitely getting gradually shorter and thinner all the time. Indeed, he could barely fill his chastity device anymore and I had to search for a smaller one. I had also kept from him, the advertised side effects that came with the product; one, that the reduction in size was permanent and irreversible, and two, that use of the product almost always led to erectile dysfunction.

It was at this time, that things came to a head and he absolutely refused to let me apply any more of the cream. His penis was ridiculously short by that time and he was greatly distressed as to whether it would grow back again or not.

However, it was with great excitement that I learned that the medication was now being offered as a pill, in addition to the cream. I was very pleased to place an immediate order for them and I soon made a habit of crushing them into powdered form and mixing it into his baby bottle before beddie-bye. The poor pantywaist happily drank down his warm milk every night, not realizing he was actually making his tiny sissy stick get smaller and smaller with every serving.

I was delighted to find that in two months’ time, he had lost even more in length, giving him the hard-on of a toddler when fully erect. Now, when he became sexually aroused, his tiny little stub barely even protruded from his groin. I laughed so hard I almost cried and for his birthday, I introduced him to his newest chastity device, a tiny cap-type design, with a flexible urethra insert. It’s the latter aspect that contributes so much to security—it’s quite impossible to extract his tiny penis when he has two inches of tubing locked and buried inside of him.

He sniveled and whined as I installed the device, and he squirmed uncomfortably as the tube was slowly and carefully pushed inside his now minuscule shaft. However, it was soon all the way in, and the cap end that surrounded his head compressed his shaft further as it was mated with the small steel cuff ring.

 After locking it in place, I beamed with satisfaction, hugged him and kissed his forehead as I looked down at my handiwork.

 In keeping with his new, baby-sized penis, I announced that henceforth, I was changing his relief schedule from once every two months to only once a quarter.

 “Diaper-wetting sissies don’t need more than that,” I told him cheerfully.

Now, as I gazed down on his peacefully sleeping form, I am just so pleased with the way everything has turned out. Although life now can sometimes be a frustrating experience for Mikey, I think we both know this was best for him. He was never going to be able to satisfy a woman anyway, and I’ve just helped him to accept that reality.

 Looking down upon him, it seemed that at some time during the night, Mikey had kicked his baby blankets aside and as a result, the morning sun was now reflecting off his exposed, shiny plastic panties. I’ve always liked nursery print, and so this morning his soaking wet diapers were contained in a pink pair with duckies and clowns.

 Carefully reaching inside the ruffled elastic waistband of his baby panties, I felt the soggy warm cotton cloth just inside. Placing my hand gently on his fat, padded bottom, I could feel the heat, and I realized he must have re-wet himself in his sleep, just in the last few minutes.

 Lovingly, I gently pulled his blankets back up to tuck him in, before turning and walking out of the nursery. I’d leave Mikey to continue dreaming about whatever sissies dream of, and frankly, I was exhausted from having spent the whole night having sex. I needed to get some much needed rest and in a few hours, I’d wake up and retrieve my baby to start his day.

 It occurred to me that there are some men, like my boyfriend Brad, who are destined to have lots of sex and enjoy the attentions of beautiful women, and then there are others, like my bedwetting Mikey, who are destined to wear diapers and dresses, their pathetic little dicks permanently locked up in chastity where they belong.

 That’s the way it’s been, and that’s the way it always will be.
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