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GiGi
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
GiGi
First I would like to explain that for the longest part of my 48
years, I have been an Adult Baby. I didn't wear woman's cloths for the
first time until about 15 years ago, when my ex-wife dressed me one
night. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so here's the story of how I
came to wear all those wonderful, soft, lacy, beautiful things that
men aren't supposed to want to wear.
I was one of four children. I have an older brother, a younger
sister, and a younger brother. Jean, my sister is 16 months younger
than I am.
My mother decided that she was not going to have two children in
diapers at the same time, so I was potty trained by the time I was 14
months old. I believe that this was the beginning of my life long
desire to be babied.
The earliest recollection I have is not that of wanting to be
diapered, but to wear rubber pants. It was a warm summer day, and my
sister and I, were outside playing with Gerry, the boy next door. At
the time I was five, and Gerry was the same age as my sister, which
was four.
After awhile, Gerry's mother came out with a jar in her hand.
Rather than take Gerry in the house to use the bathroom, she was going
to let him pee in the jar. She had him turn his back to my sister and
I, and when she pulled down his shorts, we noticed that he was wearing
a pair of rubber baby pants. I asked why, and she said it was to
protect his shorts in case he had an accident.
After we had finished playing, we went back in the house, and the
first thing I asked ask my mother was, if I could wear a pair of
rubber pants like Gerry. She just kind of shrugged it off, and when my
mother did that, it was an emphatic NO! There was no sense pushing the
subject, because my mother was one of those who was going to be right
come hell or high water. If I had kept at her, I probably would have
ended up with a slap in the face.
About a year later, my mother was expecting another baby. One day,
Gerry's mother, gave me two pair of rubber pants to give to my
mother. She said "Since Gerry doesn't wear these anymore, maybe your
mother can use them for the new baby."
My mother wasn't home at the time, and I thought that this would
be the perfect opportunity to try them on. I asked Jean if she would
like to try on a pair of rubber pants with me, but she "No".
I took off my trousers, and underpants and pulled those wonderful
pants on over my bare skin. They were much too small, but felt so nice
against my flesh. The fire of passion began running through my body,
giving me a feeling that was both strange and wonderful, and I enjoyed
every second. With my body on fire, I began to wet in the pants. After
a small amount accumulated, it began running down my legs since there
was no diaper to catch it. Jean was becoming frightened, and she
begged me to take them off. I did, reluctantly. The thoughts of that
day kept going through my mind, and more than ever, I wanted to be a
baby in rubber pants again.
The new arrival in the house didn't help matters any, I started
becoming jealous. Not because of the attention he was receiving, but
because he was wearing rubber pants...MY RUBBER PANTS... My mother and
father named this new arrival, Rob, after an uncle.
For the next few years, I kept trying to find ways to be babied.
Wet the bed, that didn't help, you only get a wack on the ass. Put
rubber pants on, and let mother catch you. That didn't work either,
she only made me to go upstairs and take them off.
I was about nine, Rob was four, and out of diapers. Then one
weekend, Rob got a bad case of diarrhea. He had messed in his pants
four of five times and my mother said "I can't take any more of this".
I asked her what she was going to do and she said, "I'm going to put
Rob back in a diaper and rubber pants." She took Rob up to her bedroom
and cleaned him up. Then she went to her dresser and took a diaper and
a pair of rubber pants from one of the dresser drawers.
As she lifted his bottom, and slid the diaper under him, he began
crying. When she put the rubber pants on him, his cries became even
louder. She gave him a wack on the bottom, took him to his bedroom,
and laid him in his crib. I started begging her to please put a diaper
on me. When I say beg, I mean it in the literal sense. I pleaded with
her. I stayed with Rob for a awhile telling him how lucky he was to be
back in diapers.
I again started begging my mother to put diapers on me, and she
told me that she didn't have anymore pins. I asked "If I find some
pins, will you diaper me?" She said "If you can find some pins that
are big enough."
The first ones I found were too small, so I started looking all
over the house. Not finding any that would do, I started going to
neighbors houses, asking them if they had some safety pins my mother
could borrow. After about an hour, I came come with two nice, large
pins.
I asked my mother to diaper me and she said, "not now". I asked
her if she would diaper me after dinner, and got the reply that every
child hates to hear. "We'll see after dinner."
After we finished eating that night, there were dishes to do,
cloths to be ironed, etc. Each time I requested my diaper, the reply
was always the same "not now, I'm busy." Finally it was time to go to
bed, and I asked her again to please diaper me. She told me that she
would never diaper me no matter how much I begged for it. I replied
with "What if I start wetting the bed at night?" She said "You do that
and you won't be able to sit down for a week". Needless to say, I
never asked her to diaper me again.
That however, didn't stop me from wearing diapers. I remember a
few occasions when I bought baby pants, and would hide them until it
was safe to take them in the house. I would then privately wear them
over a bath towel diaper.
Let me switch gears here for a moment, and tell you that at a very
young age, I distinctly remember my mother saying that there were
some little boys in the world that were being raised as little girls.
I remember her telling me that they had to wear panties, slips,
skirts, and little girl shoes. I don't remember why she used to tell
me this, but I do remember getting a wonderful, strange feeling when
she did. At the time I was just too embarrassed to tell her that I
wanted to wear little girl cloths. I know this seems strange, even as
I think about it today, after all, wasn't embarrassed to tell her that
I wanted to wear baby cloths.
There were a few times that I worn my sister panties, when I knew
it was safe. The same fiery feelings I had when I wore rubber pants
for the first time came back whenever I wore my sister panties. How
wonderfully nice and soft they felt against my body. I never got up
the nerve to try on one of her dresses, but there were more than a
few times that I hoped my mother would catch me, and make me into one
of those little girls she would tell me about. A little baby girl in a
pink frilly party dress, with a diaper and rumba baby pants.
When I went into the Navy, most of those thoughts disappeared
from my mind, and I didn't think about either baby or woman's things
until my wife was pregnant with our first child. That's when the old
feelings started to resurface again. She caught me one day wearing a
diaper, and rubber pants, drinking from a baby bottle. She was not a
very forgiving person, and it wasn't long after that, we divorced.
I remarried, but this time decided to tell my future wife of my
baby desires before we married. It never occurred to me to tell her
that I also like to wear lacy panties. She was very understanding, and
many times she would be my "mommy" for a day or a night.
One evening, she asked if I would diaper her, and when I agreed,
she told me that she wanted one thing more, she wanted me to be her
mommy. I tried to explain to her that I didn't know how to be a mommy,
but she said that she would help me. I had no idea of what was in
store for me that night, but it changed my life forever.
After getting her into a diaper and rubber pants, she told me to
get undressed. She took a pair of pink, lacy, satin panties from her
dresser drawer, and had me step into them. As she pulled them up, the
smooth fabric caressed my penis, and it began to stiffen. I must say
that I was embarrassed, in that, I had forgotten how wonderful such
things could feel, and that wearing women's cloths was a turn-on for
me. "Oh, I see you like wearing women's panties." I told her that
this was the first time I had ever worn a pair of her panties. "Well,
judging by that bulge, I can assure you that it won't be the last."
Next came a pair of panty hose, followed by a bra, slip, blouse,
and finally a skirt. After each article was in place, she would step
back and make some comment concerning how nice I looked, or how pretty
her mommy was going to be when she finished. After the skirt was on I
thought to myself, finished at last, but we were no where near
finished.
I don't want to give you the impression that I didn't enjoy what
was being done to me, I did. It was just that it was all so new to
me. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act. Was I supposed to act
like I was angry that she was doing this to me, or let her know how
much I enjoyed it. I decided to just let things take their own
course, and not make any comment one way or the other.
She produced a frosted wig, placed it on my head, and made sure
that it was on properly. Next came lipstick, followed by eye shadow,
and fake eyelashes. When she was finally finished, she had me close my
eyes, and step in front of a full length mirror. When I opened my
eyes, I couldn't believe it. There was a very pretty woman facing me
in the mirror. At that moment, I knew with out a doubt that this was
how I wanted to be dressed from now on.
Judy looked at me for the longest time and finally asked if I was
angry for what she had done to me. I told her no, but since she had
done all this to me, I was going to make her more of a baby, which I
did. The rest of the evening went great.
When it came time for bed, I started getting undressed. Judy asked
me if I would like wear a shortie nightie to bed. I agreed, and she
insisted that I keep my bra and panties on, along with the wig. We
removed the rest of my wonderful feminine cloths, and once in bed made
love. It was one of the strongest orgasms I've ever had.
After making love, Judy and I talked for awhile about how I felt
wearing women's cloths. I didn't know whether I should be honest with
her, or tell her what I thought she wanted to hear. I said to her,
"First, let me ask you a question. How did you feel seeing me dressed
like that?" She commented that she thought I was very pretty and
could have probably passed in public as a female if I tried to. "Yes,
but how did you feel inside?" We talked for hours about our true
feelings, and what had happened that evening to each of us. She told
me that she wouldn't mind if I wore female cloths more often.
Judy and I played house often after that night, and I came to like
wearing her cloths much more than my own. The question has crossed my
mind so many times that "Why can a woman wear men's cloths and nothing
is said, but as soon as a man wears something feminine, he is a queer,
or something strange that is not to be tolerated."
I work in the Broadcast industry, and from time to time get moved
from one television station to another. A position came open at CBS
in New York, and I was asked if I wanted the position. I jumped on it
with both feet. When I got home, I told Judy to pack up and get ready
to move. She refused to move away from her parents, so our marriage of
five years ended. We are very good friends, and talk quite often on
the telephone. She always asks me if I am dressing in my mommy cloths,
but the answer is always the same, "Not like I did when I was with
you".
I waited six years before I married again, and I moved from New
York, to the Tidewater, Virginia area . Although my present wife
knows about my desire to want to dress, I can't decide whether she is
really for it or against it. I have some feminine cloths, and
recently showed her a dress I had purchased at a local store. She
told me that it was pretty, but never asked to see what it looked like
on.
There have been a few times that I've worn panties to work, and
when I get undressed when I get home, she see them, but again, no
comment is ever made.
Then there are times when we will be laying in bed, and she will
describe how she would like to dress me, or I'll be looking through
one of her mail order catalogs, and she will say something like
"You and I will have to pick out something pretty for you, and I'll
buy it for you."
I have this one night time outfit that I love to wear, it's a
pair of peach colored panties, and shortie top, with spaghetti straps.
We have both worn it to bed on different occasions, but she just
refuses to tell me whether or not she likes me in women's cloths. When
I ask her to tell me her feelings on the subject, I always get the
same comment, "I love you, and I want you to do what ever makes you
happy." That answer doesn't tell me anything, but I've decided not to
push it anymore. I guess I have it better than most other men who
like to crossdress.
I am not into bondage, or slave treatment, I just like to a
pretty, lovable, woman. There are times when I look at GIF pictures
like the Robin series, or read a story like the one "Special Panties
for that Special Lady, describing how nice Vagina Panties work, that
I wonder how it would feel to have a lover.
I'm not a Sissy, in that I would like to suck a man off, the
thought of that really turns me off. But the other, a man thrusting
himself inside of me, seems more of a feminine thing to me than a
homosexual act.
I know that I have rambled on, and after I upload this I will
think of many more things I would like to tell you, but I've been
working on this too long already.
Any comments would be appreciated, and if one of my new found
sisters could help me with two things, I would be grateful. Where can
one buy Falsies, and from where are Vagina Pants available.
HUGGS,
GiGi
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