by Larry himself
Businessman Mister Taylor likes his sissy-boi to be completely incontinent.
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Part 1 I don't how I had arrived at this point. All I knew was that I was helpless to resist whatever would happen next. I was standing in the middle of an old-fashioned and ornate sitting room dressed in the most humiliating of fashions. On my feet: white ruffled ankle socks. Above my exposed belly button: a matching white girl's undershirt with lace around the neck and shoulders. But worse of all, a bulky cotton gauze diaper covered with semi-transparent plastic panties. On top of which were pink vinyl panties with five rows of white vinyl ruffles. I had a pink ribbon bow clipped to my hair. Although I was a 23-year-old boy, who looked much younger, I appeared to be a bizarre caricature of a 3-year-old girl. The tears streaming down my red face confirmed this. Seated across from me, three feet away, was the wealthy owner of this mansion, secluded in a forest miles from civilization. I had been told his name was Mr. Taylor, and that was how I was required to address him. Either that, or 'Sir'. Mr. Taylor was neatly dressed in a traditional business suit, and flanked on either side by who I was to call Nanny Nicely and Governess Grim. As the reader might expect, the former had a warm, inviting smile on her face while the latter wore a fierce, intimidating frown. Both were attired perfectly for their roles. I stood there trembling and confused while the host maintained an amused, confident expression. I was too afraid to speak for fear Governess would use the leather strap buckled to her full-length vinyl apron. "You're a sissy!" Mr. Taylor spoke up with a hint of contempt. "I said, 'You are a sissy!'" He frowned with disapproval. "Respond politely when I address you." "Yeth, thir." Oh, no! I suddenly realized the large metal paper clip attached to the front of my tongue gave my words a girlish lisp! "From now on, you will answer to the name Fairy Larry. Do you understand why?" His smile returned. "Be-becawth ah'm a thithy?" Was that the proper thing to say? I frantically wondered. "Yes, Fairy Larry. Now say it again. With more authority. Not as a question." "Ah'm a thithy." Fresh tears appeared in my saucer eyes. "The quicker you learn the mansion rules, the easier it will be for you to live here. Is that understood?" Mr. Taylor casually opened a cigar box and lit one. "Yeth, thir." I knew well enough not to disagree with whatever this gentleman said, or what he may order me to do! "I am pleased you have decided to be so cooperative so soon. From the moment I first saw you, sissy, I nicknamed you 'Diaper-Fairy Larry' because from first impression, that is what you appeared to be. The only things missing were the baby diapers and silly pink plastic panties." When did he first see me? I mused. I couldn't remember. "Do you like your new clothes, Diaper-Fairy Larry?" I knew what answer he expected. "Yeth, thir." "You look so adorable in those diapers. When was the last time you wore them?" Oh, no! Why did he ask me that? Did he know something secret from my past? Too ashamed to openly admit the true answer, yet too afraid to give the incorrect one, I mumbled a weak reply. "Speak up, sissy. I do not want to ask the same question twice." I caught a glimpse of Governess Grim's ever-present scowl, and reluctantly forged ahead. "When I was 13-years-old." "13-years-old?!" Mr. Taylor feinted surprise. I think he knew already that I was a nightly bed-wetter still in diapers and rubber pants at that advanced age. "That is much too old to still be dressed in such a manner. Why?" That's when I lost all control. I felt myself pour a warm stream into the front of my diapers. Tears flowed freely, as did the sticky goop from my flared nose. I could barely speak a sensible word through my gaping wide mouth. Now, I was blubbering like a toddler girl! I silently begged to escape from this unspeakable shame. Yet, I clearly realized Mr. Taylor would never allow that. In fact, this whole scenario was fun sport for him. Perhaps one of his twisted hobbies? "SOB! SOB! Thir, becawth ah wath a bed-wetter. Thir." I managed to speak. "A bed-wetter! I might have known. Well, I adore seeing my sissies in didees and wubba pannies. All sissies, like you, belong in them. Wouldn't you agree?" He casually flicked a bit of cigar ash into the glass ash tray beside him. "SOB! CHOKE! Yeth, thir." I hated wearing them then, and I didn't feel any differently now. "Would you like to be my diapered sissy, Fairy-Larry?" I didn't know what else to say, but, "Yeth, thir." I silently screamed no, no,no, but what did that matter? Could I stop the inevitable? "Then, ask me politely." "Pweath, thir. May I be your favowite diapa-thithy?" Whatever masculine attributes I possessed or felt vanished the moment I uttered those humiliating words. Was I ever man to begin with, I mused. Or had I always been this way? Could Mr. Taylor have seen right through me the moment he saw me? When? When was that?! I just couldn't remember. In fact, I couldn't remember much of anything about my former life. "Yes, you may, sweetheart. Now, ask me again. But this time, curtsey like an obedient potty-pants sissy." I couldn't tell what was real or what was fantasy. My mind couldn't accept this heart-wrenching experience, yet I obeyed like a little girl who craved her Daddy's affection. With one sock-covered foot behind the other, I dipped my padded and plasticized bottom down while holding the sides of my panties with thumbs and forefingers. "Pweath, Mr. Taylor. May I be your diapa thithy fo'eva an' eva? I wanna be your diapa girly-boy, Daddy." "To prove you are sincere, Fairy-Larry. Do a darling Diaper-Dance like the happy ickle dirlie you are. Go on." With all of my remaining strength, I kicked my bare knees up and down and waved my limp wrists. "Ah'm Daddy'th Diapa-Faiwy. Ah'm Daddy'th Diapa-Faiwy!" My soaked diapers and plastics bounced along with my hips. Thankfully, the snug elastic band around my waist held everything in place. Mr. Taylor smiled with approval. He beckoned me to waddle over to him and sit on his ample lap. I don't know how I was able to do it, but I did. Part 2 Time passed. I don't know how, or how much, for I never saw a wall clock in the mansion. I could easily surmise when it was daytime (by the light) or night (by the darkness) but that was all. My only certainty was my loving devotion to Daddy, Mr. Taylor. Nanny Nicely kept me busy throughout the day. I happily wore a plastic apron that read NANNY'S LITTLE HELPER over my play dress that barely concealed my diaper-stuffed pink plastic panties whenever I was engrossed in my domestic chores. I also wore pink canvas girls' shoes because Nanny didn't want me to scuff up my pristine white Mary Janes. Nanny pleasantly taught me how to be a proficient home-maker. Amongst my duties was laundry, which took up half of everyday considering the amount of stinky diapers and baby panties I wore constantly, Daddy's numerous socks, underpants and T-shirts and bed linen for everyone. I assisted Nanny with carefully folding what needed and putting it in the proper place. She praised me often which never failed to inspire me to do better. Thankfully, I never encountered Governess Grim very often. I was deeply afraid of her, or more precisely, what she would do to me if I dared misbehave. Another constant throughout the day was the quart-sized molded-plastic baby bottle I held and nursed. Nanny joked, "Fairy Larry just loves to suck on that nipple all day, huh?" She patted and squeezed my drenched diapers. "The more he drinks, the more he wets." I also had a Music Instructor hired by Daddy to teach me how to properly sing and dance for the grown-ups entertainment. Every afternoon, I joined Miss Jones by the grand piano where she played happy, lilting tunes and I soon memorized the words and motions to I'M A LITTLE TEAPOT. For this, I was changed into my best dress of pink satin with short puffed sleeves and a ruffled hem that flared out from starched white petticoats. With every twist and turn, they bounced and gave anyone who cared to look a fleeting glimpse of the white vinyl ruffles on my plastic panties. Nanny told me I reminded her of her childhood idol, Shirley Temple. Another song that Nanny wrote especially for me to sing was like a potty-training tune, only the opposite. Meaning, the lyrics went, "I use my diapers when I have to pee. I use my diapers when I have to pee. Now, I am learning how." But I sang it in an exaggerated lisp that sounded like, "Ah uth ma diapath when ah hafta pee. Ah uth ma diapath when ah hafta pee. Now, ah am wearning how." Between lines, I would lift my skirts with one hand and pat my sagging bottom with the other. To close the song and dance, I would beam a smile and curtsey deeply. "T'ank 'ou, everyone." I would compliment my pretend audience. Nanny Nicely adored her talented girly-boy! The one and only time I incurred Governess Grim's mighty wraith was when I put up a fuss over having to eat the yucky vegetables Nanny served for dinner. Over-cooked broccoli, cauliflower and carrots that made my throat contract. One afternoon, I was mysteriously escorted into Daddy's study where I saw him sitting in his favorite easy chair with a sad look on his face. Across from him where I once stood was Governess Grim with a red rubber sheet draped across her lap and a wooden hair brush in her hand. I immediately gasped! I looked pleadingly toward Daddy but he only closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to say, there is no way this is not going to happen. "Diaper-Fairy Larry." He spoke curtly. "Nanny has told me about your dinnertime misbehavior. I cannot allow this situation to go on any further. Do you understand?" Tears formed in my eyes. "Yeth, thir. Ah pwomith not to do it again." "Very good, sweetheart. But I need to make certain it won't happen again." He looked in Governess Grim's direction who beckoned me forward with her finger. I panicked. "SOB! SOB! Ah'm thorry, Mithter Taywor! SOB! Ah'm thorry!" I blubbered, all the while stepping closer to my doom. I choked on my tears when I felt Governess reach under my petticoats and yank down my damp diapers and plastics. She methodically guided me onto her rubber-covered lap, like she had done with many other miscreants before this, and positioned my bare, glistening behind just so. She held the flat end of the hairbrush below my grimacing face and instructed me to kiss it lovingly. Then, politely ask it to correct my unwanted behavior. I had to willingly and happily request my own punishment! I braced myself the best I could when I saw the wicked tool leave my line of sight for I knew exactly where it was going after that. If anyone had been in the next room behind the locked door, they would have thought a pre-school girl was being reprimanded. I shrieked and screamed with every blow that impacted my moist behind. The residual wetness only served to make it sting worse. It seemed to last for ages, but in reality, I received only six smacks from the paddle. Governess helped me to my feet, held the hairbrush up to face again and I gratefully kissed it. "SOB! SOB! T'ank 'ou, Mithter Bwuth, for cowwecting me good." I had no time to rub my aching bottom before Governess re-adjusted my baby panties and skirts and told me to join Daddy to tell him how sorry I was and that I would never, ever do it again. Seated on his lap, he smothered my blushing face with wet kisses and called me his sweet, widdle Diaper-Fairy. That night, in my crib, I rubbed my bloated behind. The tight-fitting rubber panties trapped the heat from my bottom-warming. This experience is indelibly stamped in my short memory. That's for sure! ***
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