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It is the little things that often count the most
#1
Sad 
Little things count. I love my dummy, such a small thing but filling my mouth and  so enormously comforting, I feel safer and beautifully sweet and vulnerable when I suck on it. It makes me speak funnily all soft and lisping not my normal male voice. But it’s a baby’s dummy! It is in my mouth making me look ridiculous, childish and babyish but I need it so badly; I don’t want to be without it. But it is pink! How utterly emasculating; how can I suck it? I will suck it though, I will suck it all night. It will make my lips and chin damp with dribble; it will still be in my mouth when I wake up. I shan’t want to take it out when I get up because I know I will miss it, I delay brushing my teeth savouring my dummy to the last moment not wanting to take it out not wanting to be without it.
 
Do I feel ashamed? I am an adult, I work with colleagues, but I suck a dummy like a little baby; how utterly ridiculous is that?
 
I own a tube of Johnson’s “Baby Nappy Cream”- really? What is a grown man doing with a tube of nappy cream? If people only knew, but I use it every night.
 
It says “immediate comfort from the first use” yes because it reminds me that I’m really just a little baby; I rub it in around my “botty” to stop me getting nappy rash.
 
On the back it says “we love babies” babies? Are you a baby? Well you behave like one. It also says “skin in the nappy area needs special care to help protect the causes of nappy rash”. Really! You use this? But every night you get your little tube of Johnson’s baby nappy cream and diligently rub it in because you know you can’t stay dry at night. What’s that? You can’t stay dry at night! You don’t want to get nappy rash do you, babies get nappy rash and so will you if you don’t use Johnson’s Baby Nappy Cream. Because “our cream provides immediate comfort” oh you understand that so very well don’t you?
 
Plastic pants or should you really say plathtic pants, how many pairs do you own? Quite a few isn’t it? A grown man owns plastic pants? Actually let’s get this right they are “plastic baby pants” and they’re yours aren’t they. Your plastic pants, no let’s try to get this right they are your “plathtic baby pants” yes your very own! Do you want your friends at work to know that you own plastic baby pants? Especially some of those rather superior women; what they say if they knew you owned plastic baby pants? It doesn’t bear thinking about does it? But why do you own plastic baby pants? Oh dear it’s because you wet your nappy every night! You could stay dry but you don’t; you sometimes say to yourself I won’t wet myself tonight but you do. It is something to do with that wet warmth flooding round; it feels good but it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t at all and you know it shouldn’t feel good, but you suck your dummy to comfort yourself as you feel the wet nappy warm and comforting inside those plastic baby pants making everything so wonderfully safe.
 
Sometimes it is just the little things isn’t it? Your favourite dummy, the tube of baby nappy cream and plastic baby pants but don’t tell anybody!
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#2
For me little things like wearing nail polish or shaving my legs are some of the little things, which, when taken together, add up to an illusion of Femininity.
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#3
(08-09-2018, 12:34 PM)Sophiebaby Wrote: Little things count. I love my dummy, such a small thing but filling my mouth and  so enormously comforting, I feel safer and beautifully sweet and vulnerable when I suck on it. It makes me speak funnily all soft and lisping not my normal male voice. But it’s a baby’s dummy! It is in my mouth making me look ridiculous, childish and babyish but I need it so badly; I don’t want to be without it. But it is pink! How utterly emasculating; how can I suck it? I will suck it though, I will suck it all night. It will make my lips and chin damp with dribble; it will still be in my mouth when I wake up. I shan’t want to take it out when I get up because I know I will miss it, I delay brushing my teeth savouring my dummy to the last moment not wanting to take it out not wanting to be without it.
 
Do I feel ashamed? I am an adult, I work with colleagues, but I suck a dummy like a little baby; how utterly ridiculous is that?
 
I own a tube of Johnson’s “Baby Nappy Cream”- really? What is a grown man doing with a tube of nappy cream? If people only knew, but I use it every night.
 
It says “immediate comfort from the first use” yes because it reminds me that I’m really just a little baby; I rub it in around my “botty” to stop me getting nappy rash.
 
On the back it says “we love babies” babies? Are you a baby? Well you behave like one. It also says “skin in the nappy area needs special care to help protect the causes of nappy rash”. Really! You use this? But every night you get your little tube of Johnson’s baby nappy cream and diligently rub it in because you know you can’t stay dry at night. What’s that? You can’t stay dry at night! You don’t want to get nappy rash do you, babies get nappy rash and so will you if you don’t use Johnson’s Baby Nappy Cream. Because “our cream provides immediate comfort” oh you understand that so very well don’t you?
 
Plastic pants or should you really say plathtic pants, how many pairs do you own? Quite a few isn’t it? A grown man owns plastic pants? Actually let’s get this right they are “plastic baby pants” and they’re yours aren’t they. Your plastic pants, no let’s try to get this right they are your “plathtic baby pants” yes your very own! Do you want your friends at work to know that you own plastic baby pants? Especially some of those rather superior women; what they say if they knew you owned plastic baby pants? It doesn’t bear thinking about does it? But why do you own plastic baby pants? Oh dear it’s because you wet your nappy every night! You could stay dry but you don’t; you sometimes say to yourself I won’t wet myself tonight but you do. It is something to do with that wet warmth flooding round; it feels good but it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t at all and you know it shouldn’t feel good, but you suck your dummy to comfort yourself as you feel the wet nappy warm and comforting inside those plastic baby pants making everything so wonderfully safe.
 
Sometimes it is just the little things isn’t it? Your favourite dummy, the tube of baby nappy cream and plastic baby pants but don’t tell anybody!

yes all true


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#4
(08-09-2018, 12:34 PM)Sophiebaby Wrote: Little things count.

Very much Sophie... especially when my Daddy gets them out of the dresser or lays things out for bedtime... the smell of baby powder is enough to make me feel little and naughty, but the crinkle of plastic pants or the thick thick nappies under my sore bottom as well... or the feeling when my onesie is snapped up and I know that my nappied crinkle botty is stuck until Daddy decides to change me.

The first time I stand/sit up after being bathed and spanked and lotioned and powdered and nappied, dummy in my mouth and teddy in my arm, having to waddle when I walk...
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#5
I often wonder what the people I work with would do if they knew I was a sissy, let alone a sissy baby.

Most of them know I wear women's clothes, and, to be fair, are pretty accepting of it (why wouldn't they be? It's not like I'm trying to 'convert' them).

But I do often imagine what each of them would say if they saw me in my schoolgirl uniform, or my maid's outfit. Or, perish the thought, in my nappies and a baby dress.
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#6
Plastic pants or should you really say plathtic pants, how many pairs do you own? Quite a few isn’t it? A grown man owns plastic pants? Actually let’s get this right they are “plastic baby pants” and they’re yours aren’t they. Your plastic pants, no let’s try to get this right they are your “plathtic baby pants” yes your very own! Do you want your friends at work to know that you own plastic baby pants? Especially some of those rather superior women; what they say if they knew you owned plastic baby pants? It doesn’t bear thinking about does it? But why do you own plastic baby pants? Oh dear it’s because you wet your nappy every night! You could stay dry but you don’t; you sometimes say to yourself I won’t wet myself tonight but you do. It is something to do with that wet warmth flooding round; it feels good but it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t at all and you know it shouldn’t feel good, but you suck your dummy to comfort yourself as you feel the wet nappy warm and comforting inside those plastic baby pants making everything so wonderfully safe.
 

I loved reading this part so much....i have way too many plastic baby panties, and yet never enough.........blush
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#7
Talking of ‘superior women’... I have a female boss. I often fantasise about what she would say if she saw me dressed in some of my more sissyish outfits.
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#8
(11-20-2018, 12:27 AM)Ali Wrote: Talking of ‘superior women’... I have a female boss. I often fantasise about what she would say if she saw me dressed in some of my more sissyish outfits.

'Ali, I think we need to go over that project again - your work just wasn’t good enough. Be at my house at 8 tonight in your best clothes and we'll see what I can do to help you do better. Run along now, that’s a good little sissy'.
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#9
I’m going all red just thinking about that.

I’m in work now, and I can see her in her office. I’d absolutely die if she came over and told me to turn up to her house in my maid’s uniform. Or that she felt I needed some additional training, and to come to her house in my schoolgirl uniform.

Or if she came over to my desk and said, right out loud, so everyone heard “I’ve been speaking to your mother, Ali. She tells me you used to wear nappies and baby knickers right up to when you were a teenager. Do you still wear nappies, Ali?”
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#10
(12-17-2018, 02:42 PM)Ali Wrote: I’m going all red just thinking about that.

I’m in work now, and I can see her in her office. I’d absolutely die if she came over and told me to turn up to her house in my maid’s uniform. Or that she felt I needed some additional training, and to come to her house in my schoolgirl uniform.

Or if she came over to my desk and said, right out loud, so everyone heard “I’ve been speaking to your mother, Ali. She tells me you used to wear nappies and baby knickers right up to when you were a teenager. Do you still wear nappies, Ali?”

Imagine if Ms. Jones (to give her a name) were to thrust an armload of files at you, in a manner that you couldn't help but clumsily drop them on the floor, making a mess of them and spilling paper everywhere.  As she glared at you contemptuously, pointing silently at the mess on the floor, you'd bend down to gather them up and sort them out.  

Imagine your shock, surprise and embarrassment as you suddenly felt Ms. Jones' fingernail tracing out the hem of your panties across your derriere while you were bent over.  As you started to stand back up, she stops you, "I didn't tell you to get up, Ali, and your files are still a mess, aren't they?  Get back down on your knees and get them sorted out properly, and then show me, before you stand back up." 

And when Ms. Jones finally gave you permission to get back on your feet, she pointed silently to a spot right next to her desk.  You instinctively knew she wished you to stand there, and so you did, quite promptly, standing silently at attention while she continued to glare at you.  After what seemed like an eternity, she orders you to put your hands on your head, and look up at the ceiling overhead.  "See those holes in the ceiling tile, Ali?  I want you to count them for me." 

As you comply, you feel her swiftly unbuckle your belt, and then unbutton/unzip your trousers.  As you start to look down, she barks, "Ceiling!" and you obediently stare again at the ceiling tiles, while your trousers fall to your ankles, your cute panties on full display.  You feel her lift the hem of your shirt with a ruler, as she orders you to turn around, your eyes still riveted to the ceiling, trying not to lose count.  

"Very nice, Ali!  I've often wondered if you were a secret panty sissy.  And now you will be MY little panty sissy, won't you, Ali?  Haven't you been wanting desperately for this opportunity to show off your cute panties to me?"  

You can only gulp and meekly reply, "Yes, Ma'am!"  

"Very good, Ali.  I'm glad to afford you the opportunity.  There are going to be some changes made.  Starting tomorrow, you will be reporting to work in a skirt.  You do own a skirt or two, don't you, Ali?  A skirt that's acceptable for office wear?"  

You gulp again, and again agree, ever so meekly, as you blush beet red, "Yes, Ms. Jones, Ma'am!"  

"Very well, Ali!  Right now, you seem to have plenty of work on your hands, with all these files.  Probably much too much to even worry about your trousers right now, don't you agree, Ali?  So why don't you just step out of them, pick up those files, and go back to your desk.  Maybe once they've all been properly processed and filed, we can worry about getting you your trousers back.  Now get busy!  Dismissed!"  

As you slink back to your desk with your armload of files, your panties clearly visible under your shirttail, you hear whispers and giggling from the rest of the office staff.  Your only refuge is to bury your head in your work, too embarrassed to even look up, dreading the inevitable trip to the file room at the conclusion of your task.     
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