Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270
I have a bit of a naught fascination. Some may even call it a kink, but I love to get boys really, really hard and as I’m stroking them, beg them to potty for me before making cummies. It’s so sexy watching them become nervous and turned on.
I always used to hear that boys couldn’t tinkle if they were hard, but that’s so untrue. Mommy wants to watch that unpredictable stream flooding from your tip before the eruption of cum follows the relief.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
They call me Dr. Cory. I prefer just Cory, though. It feels more intimate. My patients, especially the men, seem to appreciate that. They usually walk in here carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, desperate for a listening ear, a compassionate gaze. What they don’t see, what they could never see, is the coiled viper beneath the serene exterior. A promise I made to myself years ago, after a man, a grown man, shattered my innocence. My revenge, you see, isn’t loud or violent. It’s surgical. Psychological. It’s how I remain in complete control.
Donald was my latest project. He shuffled into my office, a walking bundle of anxiety and vague dissatisfactions. His tie was too tight, his shoulders hunched, his voice a low monotone as he listed his woes: feelings of inadequacy, trouble sleeping, a general sense of being “stuck.” Typical. The moment he sat down, I knew his path. Regression therapy. The ultimate emasculation. We’re talking diapers, pacifier, babbling…the whole shebang. He was the perfect candidate.
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
BZ wasn’t loving unpotty training. He really wasn’t a fan of wearing diapers, especially out of the house, but like all good boys, he was trying for Mommy. He waddled over to me and tapped me on the thigh. I was texting Ryan and asked BZ what he needed.
“Um, I have to go potty.” He looked sheepish and embarrassed. My hand reached out to squish the front of his very dry diaper crotch.
“Just go in your diaper like you’re supposed to.
Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403
Welcome to Miss Zoey’s Sissy Faggie Daycare Center! I’ve spoken to your Mommy and she agrees it’s time for you to face the truth. You’re not a little boy, you’re a little sissy girl. I carefully interview all the mommies before they bring me their little ones. There’s a check list we go through to make sure this is the right place for you. But most of the mommies who contact me already have a pretty good idea that you’re not a real boy. They also know you’ll never grow up to be a real man. So, I’m here providing my services to help them transform you into the true sissy you’re meant to become.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
When most folks hear “massage parlor,” they think hot stones and essential oils. And we have those, of course. My hands are good, trained to ease knots you didn’t even know you carried. But it was never quite enough, not for me, and certainly not for some of my more adventurous clients. I noticed a pattern. A look in their eyes, a certain aspect of their tension that a standard massage just couldn’t quite smooth away. They craved a different kind of release, a deeper surrender.
That’s where the “add-on” came in. It started subtly, a suggestion here, a whispered request there. Soon enough, it became my signature service, the one that keeps my regulars coming back, often with that eager, almost wonderous glint in their eyes. After a thorough, tension-melting massage, when their muscles are liquid and their minds are drifting, I offer it. “How about something truly liberating today?” I’d purr, my voice effortlessly reassuring. Many already know what I mean. For those who don’t, I explain: a comfortable, absorbent diaper, snugged just right, a return to a state of complete, unburdened freedom.
Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403
My sweet boy K tries so hard to be a big boy. But every night he falls a little short. Because when he wakes up the same thing has happened each night. K has wet the bed. Then I recently began to find wet pants hidden in the hamper. So, sweet mommy Zoey has made the decision the tame has come for unpotty training baby K.
I broke the news to him at bedtime. He was expecting me to get his pullups out for under his jammies. However, instead I told him to lay down on his back and to spread his legs nice and wide. He was so shocked when instead of a pullup, I pulled out a brand-new package of Pampers. I bought them at the store that afternoon.
Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270
I had Dan’s ankles held up in the web of my hand and his fresh diaper was tucked right under his bare butt when it hit me like a train. I had to go and badly! My knees bumped against each other and rubbed as I started to bounce a little. The tinkle dance was taking over me, but I wasn’t finished changing Dan.
“Ohh, I have to go. I have to go so, so bad.” I whined and shook the powder over Dan’s penis. He was semi-hard, and watching Mommy dance around was making his little dock grow harder. “Fuck,” I crossed my legs, thinking Id never make it all the way downstairs and to the restroom. The open diaper under me was dry as a bone, and Dan wets so fast anyway! I climbed up to straddle his lap and pulled my panties to the side. He looked at me with lustful eyes, watching where my crotch hovered over his. “You don’t mind wearing Mommy’s new toilet for a little while, do you?”
Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403
You’ve worked hard all week long. You deserve a break from the responsibilities and demands of your adult life. I provide you with the perfect escape from the reality of all you have to do and face throughout the week. All you have to do is turn yourself over to me and my ministrations. I know the best way to let go of all those adult worries is to regress you back to when life wasn’t so stressful and demanding. Your transformation starts when I strip off your grown up clothes and slip on your weekend diaper. Now you’re my good little baby who only has to obey Mommy Zoey.
Continue reading “Mommy Zoey Gives You a Break from Your Responsibilities”
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
James was one of my regulars. He was a successful architect, intelligent and articulate in his professional life, but beneath the veneer of competence was a deep-seated need for comfort and discipline. The contrast was often poignant. He stood on the porch, clutching a worn teddy, his eyes wide and a little anxious. “Cory,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Hey, sweetie,” I replied, opening the door wider. “Come on in. It’s chilly out.”
He shuffled inside, immediately drawn to the cozy warmth of my living room. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, the soft lighting casting a comforting glow. A playpen sat discreetly in the corner, surrounded by toys and plush blankets. It was a sanctuary. “Rough day?” I asked, gesturing towards the plush armchair. He nodded, burying his face in the teddy. “Mr. Henderson keeps micromanaging everything.” I knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Sounds stressful, honey. Did you remember to wear your pull-up today?” He nodded again, a small blush creeping up his neck. “Yes, Mama.” “Good boy,” I praised, my voice soft but firm. “Did you have any accidents?”
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
The Met Gala was a whirlwind of glamour and chaos. The red carpet was a sea of flashing cameras and eager photographers. I stood there in my silver mermaid gown, the cool fabric shimmering under the bright lights. My silver flowers in my hair added a touch of whimsy to the futuristic look. You, in your silver suit, looked like a god among men. The photographers loved us, snapping pictures as if we were A-listers.
You leaned in, your breath hot on my ear, and I thought you were going to give me a sexy bite. Instead, you whispered, “I had an accident.” My eyes widened, but I kept my composure. “It’s okay,” I reassured you, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “Let’s get inside.” Once we were in, we ran into an old friend who quickly understood the situation. She led us to the washroom, her eyes sparkling with amusement. The changing table was tiny, barely big enough to sit on, let alone hold a grown man. You looked at me, a mix of embarrassment and relief in your eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you muttered,