Dear Auntie Helga,
I wasn't always a sissy baby. I was a highly respected media academic, tall, handsome and confident, my girlfriend an up-and-coming psychology and hypnotherapy researcher. I also used to be quite an important mover and shaker on the fetish scene. As a dom, it was a great way to meet pretty girls on the side. I was very much cock of the walk. I sneered at those with "weak" fetishes. In fact on more than one occasion I'd been heard evincing "You'll never catch me doing that ABDL stuff - that's for losers!" not least to my girlfriend Fiona.
Cut to six months later and a little too much arrogance and flirting with girls when we went clubbing, and there I am chained in a crib, mittens, baby panties, bonnet, bib and bootees obeying my girlfriend's orders to rub the front of my baby panties and beg to be kept in diapers permanently, and for her to let the world know what a pathetic whimpering sissy-baby I really was. The last part, at least, I hoped was just fantasy-talk. I was wrong on this too.
The more I was trapped in the crib drinking from my baby-bottle, the more I became addicted to being mocked by Fiona as she drank wine, blew smoke in my face (I had been an avid anti-smoker and banned smoking in our home) and encouraging me to rub my sissy-clit through my sissypanties and beg to be a sissybaby girl. Night after night, week after week, month after month I was losing my sense of masculinity in this process of increasingly hypnotic sissification. I had even taken to involuntary wetting myself when Fiona teased me, as this was increasingly the only way I had been conditioned to become in any way aroused. It felt like I no longer had a choice, the inner compulsion was so strong.
And then I thought there was a ray of light. Recently my girlfriend announced we would be attending a local fetish club with some friends. I researched on the internet and found it was a Mexican day of the dead theme. I was so excited. It had been some time since my girlfriend had deigned to allow me to accompany her on her nights out. I was so proud of myself. I had a candyskull mask from travels abroad, a skeleton teeshirt and rubber jeans (from when I used to play the dom role in our relationship). I knew I could be impressive again, a big name on the scene, and impress the cute girls there.
On the night in question Shona and Sasha, two of Fiona's girlfriends visited, both in killer latex catsuits. We were having a lovely time before getting ready, just like the old days. I even boasted about how cool my outfit was, waiting in the other room once we'd finished our drinks. I admit I drunk a lot of my favourite Japanese rice wine and boasting of the good time I was going to have. The last thing I remember is Fiona suddenly whispering "bad baby good baby" in my ear.
The next thing I knew I was in a taxi dressed in bonnet, bootees, the whole kiboodle plus gagged with a huge dummy, and locked in baby reins. The three women laughed at me struggling. When I calmed, Fiona removed the gag. I tried to beg them not to let anybody see me dressed as a sissybaby, but Fiona simply said "no words for you" and suddenly all I heard was "goo-goo-goo ga-ga-ga!". The three women roared with laughter. I was dragged into the club, only to see not only the whole fetish scene there, but also my secretary from work, three girlfriends I'd dumped in the past and my whole social scene. As I babbled and gabbled, I found myself not only following, but getting down on my knees and crawling like a baby. In my head, a mantra kept echoing "Sissybabies always respect and obey women. Sissybabies must always agree with and never contradict women, especially their babysitters. Sissybabies crave being humiliated, wetting themselves and obeying their babysitters".
As Fiona, now on the arm of a man I didn't know, explained to everybody that I had been both impotent and incontinent for some time and how much I had begged to be sissified and loved wetting my diapers. My goo-gooed attempts at denial turned into vigorous nods of agreement!. One pretty girl, the very type I had fantasied about impressing in my skull dom outfit, giggled that if I loved wetting myself so much, I should be called Princess PissyPanties. The crowd loved the idea, and Fiona promised to have a large tattoo of "My name is Princess PissyPanties" tramp-stamped on me and have my name changed by deed-poll. Fiona then announced that she was leaving me to have real babies with a real man, but if I behaved and begged, perhaps she would adopt me. As she walked away with her new beau, my three jilted exes took hold of my reins, saying they would babysit me. All I can say is it was a very humiliating night and my personal and professional reputation is now entirely ruined. At work my secretary is now my boss and I have to beg her to change my wet diapers each day and my exes babysit and humiliate me at night.
I'm writing this, as instructed by Fiona, to further ensure people understand how pathetic an impotent little diaper-wetting sissy baby I now am. And that is the story of how this once confident dom is now permanently Princess PissyPanties.
Thank you for your letter Princess. Well, well, aren't you the sweetest little girl all dressed in your pretty baby clothes and now wanting to share with the world how this came to be your life. Of course Auntie would love to print your story, though you are going to have to wait as Auntie is very busy. Thank you to Fiona for allowing you to share your story.