Baby Suzy Loves His Titty-Suckies    by Prim

Francis Henderson sat in front of his opened closet, gazing rapturously at his row of dresses, skirts and blouses... all of them in childish styles and all of them either in silk or satin and dripping with pretty ruffles. "Look at your red taffeta party dress," ordered Brenda Fortescue, sitting beside him. "Tell me how lovely it is dear." He knew from months of practice what he had to say. "Oh, my fabulouth wed dweth, Mother-in-law. It'th one of my favouwit-th. I feel tho feminine and juth like a lickel girl when I am weawing it." "Yes, it's very sweet isn't it. You like its pretty red piping round the white satin collar, don't you, Francis?" "Goth, yeth, Mother-in-law." As always, he was extremely conscious of Brenda's voluptuous breasts filling her striped silk blouse just a foot or two to the side of his blushing face. "It-th tho thweet awound my neck, like a lickel girly thould be." "Get up then, Francis, and kneel on the floor in front of your pretty red dress... and show me how much you love it with your tender kisses. And make sure you're girlish in the way you are kissing!" Her son-in-law was off his seat as if his pink panties were on fire and fell to his knees, threading his hands inside the petticoat and lavishing adoring kisses on the ruffles, the skirt of scarlet taffeta and the lace-edged pockets. His panties strained mercilessly inside the white petticoat he wore beneath his pleated white skirt. What a wretched, shameful husband he was for his wife, Andrea, away on a business trip to Amsterdam. How shaming it was for him to be left with her mother as his minder... almost his baby-sitter... to look after his dressing and undressing, his bathing, and... so awfully humiliating... his feeding and his bottles. Thank goodness she hadn't decided to make him her baby today, as she occasionally did to add a bitter edge to his shamefulness. It was while he was feeling so sorry for himself, and kissing his scarlet dress, that the doorbell rang. Francis Henderson's nerves became achingly stretched as Brenda left him in his blouse and skirt to answer the door. Surely it was just a parcel being delivered, or someone collecting for charity? "Come along," he heard, moments later, "he's in here. I've got him telling me how sensible it is of his wife and myself to bring up a wimpy drip like him as a little girl." His heart almost burst with fright as the voice reached the door and Brenda was back, leading in the worst possible person who could have called: her sister Caroline. "Stand up," bawled Brenda, planting her hands on her hips. "Curtsey to our visitor." Her son-in-law scrambled to his feet and caught the outside edges of his mini-skirt to execute a polite dip. Unfortunately, this displayed his shiny, pink skirt to the full, and the buttons down the front were very obviously pointed upwards over a shameful erection. "For goodness' sake, Brenda," cried the visitor, "what have you had him doing? He's showing us a really rude hard-on! Ohhhh, that's disgusting!" His mother-in-law's face turned as sour as her sister's when she saw the evidence. "The slut!" she screeched, and strode up to him, grabbed his ear in a grip of iron and bent him back for the two women to examine the front of his skirt. "Look at him! Flagrantly ejaculating!" Her free hand plucked up the front of his skirt and petticoat, and sure enough, his adoration of his dress a moment before had produced a wet patch in the front of his panties where the penis head pressed hard against the white silk . A twitch of her arm sent him sprawling on the floor. "Right. It's BABY time for you, you shameless idiot," she fumed. "I'm not going to treat you as a grown girl if you can't control your genitals. They need to be kept done up in diapers and baby pants. Caroline, will you help me look after Sissy Baby Suzie, who needs her titty suck-sucks?" Her sister grinned with pleasure. "Well, you know me, Brenda… I love to get my tits out, so I'm sure I can help this baby wimp." The next minutes were a whirl of misery and dismay for Francis Henderson. He was stripped of his blouse and skirt, his wet little waist slip and his panties, and was marched between both women into the sitting room. There he was faced with Caroline, whose breasts were as pendulous and full as her sisters as she stood over him and lectured him on dribbling penises and weak bladders, and flimsy, hairless little bodies that look like a girl's, until her sister returned with his baby things. He was soon held helplessly, face down across both their skirts, having the back of his powder blue silk baby dress fastened over his rustling silk petticoats. He was turned over to have his face ribboned into a floppy silk baby bonnet and his diaper opened so that Caroline could monitor what his weak genitals were doing while he was being fed. It was at times like this, when Brenda subjected him to her naked breasts for little-girl-suckling, that he fully deserved to be treated as the sissy baby he was. As soon as his mouth closed on the length of her succulent nipple, he was locked into total subjection to his Mother-in-law, and wanted to live at her breast every moment of every day of his helpless baby girl life. ***

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