I am very happy with the way I have brought up my son – as a little girl who wets herself.
Some people will object to the way I have brought up my son.
They simply don`t understand how a mother feels.
He is a very unusual little boy I admit.
I say `little boy` but in fact he’s twenty-seven years old now,
and no longer a boy at all.
If you saw him I’m sure you would agree that I’ve done the right thing.
He’s far too pretty and delicate for the wicked world of grown-ups –
he wouldn’t be able to cope with it at all.
It’s absolutely essential for me to keep him safely in his dear little nursery,
dressed in the lovely frllly outfits I make for him
living a dainty, girlie, carefree life among his dollies.
Some people will say I’m being selfish;
that I make him sweet and babyish for my own pleasure.
Well, I admit
I do get enormous pleasure from dressing my darling in gorgeous baby dresses and frilly bonnets
as well as watching him dribble and kick out his legs in his lovely pink satin crib;
but he enjoys it too!
I know he does.
He cries of course,
but don’t all babies cry?
That just proves how babyish he really is!
Besides, what could be more fun for a boy than living with his Mummy,
wearing soft fluffy diapers and plastic panties and wetting himself whenever he feels like it?
And I don’t keep my little angel all to myself.
He does meet other people too.
All my girlfriends come round to see him regularly and we have lovely dressing-up sessions and he has a wonderful time.
Women seem to love making a fuss of him, petting and kissing him till he dribbles helplessly and soaks his diaper for them.
Actually, he even has a special lady friend to take care of his needs.
You see I know a male of his age needs relief in that department!
Samantha comes round once a week.
A very well-developed girl.
I absent myself from the nursery when she is here,
so I have no idea what goes on,
but little Priscilla always looks very contented afterward.
That’s my baby’s name by the way. Isn’t it pretty?
Yesterday was a fairly typical day for little Priscilla.
He sleeps in a lovely white satin and lace crib beside my bed so I can see him as soon as I wake up.
Its always a lovely moment for me,
looking down at my darling with his little thumb in his mouth and tears running down his cheeks and his teddy bear in his arms and his pretty pink nightie spread over the satin sheets.
I can never resist gently easing my hand down the waist elastic of his panties to feel his diaper – always soaking wet of course.
It always gives me a warm maternal feeling.
I know Priscilla can never leave me now.
How can a man who has no control of himself possibly leave his mummy and go out into the big grown-up world?
The idea is ridiculous!
Well, I slipped on my negligee and bent down to kiss his baby smooth cheek.
“Wakey wakey Priscilla darling!”
He began to suck more strongly on his thumb and gave a babyish little sigh.
“Samantha’s coming today darling!”
His eyes opened suddenly and he started to wriggle and kick out his legs.
I’m sure he was having naughty thoughts.
Things a mother would rather not know about.
But I can’t blame the poor dear.
Am I a little jealous of Samantha’s relationship with my darling babykins?
I suppose so.
What mother isn’t a little jealous of her son’s lady friends?
I had my darling all to myself that morning anyway and I wanted to make the most of it
. I took a prettily wrapped cardboard box from the top of the wardrobe and undid the big pink bow.
Most of Priscilla’s baby dresses I make myself but occasionally I like to buy something really special,
usually from Sissywear in Knightsbridge. They sell the frilliest things you ever saw!
“Look babykins, see what mummy has bought for her dear babykins.”
I am very happy with the way I have brought up my son – as a little girl who wets herself.
Some people will object to the way I have brought up my son.
They simply don`t understand how a mother feels.
He is a very unusual little boy I admit.
I say `little boy` but in fact he’s twenty-seven years old now,
and no longer a boy at all.
If you saw him I’m sure you would agree that I’ve done the right thing.
He’s far too pretty and delicate for the wicked world of grown-ups –
he wouldn’t be able to cope with it at all.
It’s absolutely essential for me to keep him safely in his dear little nursery,
dressed in the lovely frllly outfits I make for him
living a dainty, girlie, carefree life among his dollies.
Some people will say I’m being selfish;
that I make him sweet and babyish for my own pleasure.
Well, I admit
I do get enormous pleasure from dressing my darling in gorgeous baby dresses and frilly bonnets
as well as watching him dribble and kick out his legs in his lovely pink satin crib;
but he enjoys it too!
I know he does.
He cries of course,
but don’t all babies cry?
That just proves how babyish he really is!
Besides, what could be more fun for a boy than living with his Mummy,
wearing soft fluffy diapers and plastic panties and wetting himself whenever he feels like it?
And I don’t keep my little angel all to myself.
He does meet other people too.
All my girlfriends come round to see him regularly and we have lovely dressing-up sessions and he has a wonderful time.
Women seem to love making a fuss of him, petting and kissing him till he dribbles helplessly and soaks his diaper for them.
Actually, he even has a special lady friend to take care of his needs.
You see I know a male of his age needs relief in that department!
Samantha comes round once a week.
A very well-developed girl.
I absent myself from the nursery when she is here,
so I have no idea what goes on,
but little Priscilla always looks very contented afterward.
That’s my baby’s name by the way. Isn’t it pretty?
Yesterday was a fairly typical day for little Priscilla.
He sleeps in a lovely white satin and lace crib beside my bed so I can see him as soon as I wake up.
Its always a lovely moment for me,
looking down at my darling with his little thumb in his mouth and tears running down his cheeks and his teddy bear in his arms and his pretty pink nightie spread over the satin sheets.
It always gives me a warm maternal feeling.
I know Priscilla can never leave me now.
How can a man who has no control of himself possibly leave his mummy and go out into the big grown-up world?
The idea is ridiculous!
Well, I slipped on my negligee and bent down to kiss his baby smooth cheek.
“Wakey wakey Priscilla darling!”
He began to suck more strongly on his thumb and gave a babyish little sigh.
“Samantha’s coming today darling!”
His eyes opened suddenly and he started to wriggle and kick out his legs.
I’m sure he was having naughty thoughts.
Things a mother would rather not know about.
But I can’t blame the poor dear.
Am I a little jealous of Samantha’s relationship with my darling babykins?
I suppose so.
What mother isn’t a little jealous of her son’s lady friends?
I had my darling all to myself that morning anyway and I wanted to make the most of it
. I took a prettily wrapped cardboard box from the top of the wardrobe and undid the big pink bow.
Most of Priscilla’s baby dresses I make myself but occasionally I like to buy something really special,
usually from Sissywear in Knightsbridge. They sell the frilliest things you ever saw!
“Look babykins, see what mummy has bought for her dear babykins.”
I separated the soft tissue papers and lifted out the frothy bundle of silk and chiffon.
You should see the expression on baby’s face when he gets a new baby dress! H
is little eyes light up and he starts to gurgle and dribble,
his arms jerk up and down and he wriggles his bottom with pleasure.
You might think with three wardrobes crammed full of gorgeous baby outfits
Priscilla might be a little blasé about yet another one!
Not a bit of it!
He gets just as excited now as he did when I first put him into one.
I let him bury his face in the soft silky folds of the beautiful skirt
I let him feel the dear little pink bows around the hem and the trimming of pink lace around the Peter Pan collar and the little puff sleeves,
I then hang it up over the bath so he could drool over it while I washed his smooth skin with a pair of my panties.
I was very careful over his bits but it was no use.
What with the lovely new dress, and the feel of my panties and no doubt thoughts of Samantha coming later,
well he was just too excited poor darling.
He can’t help getting joy from his baby feelings after all can he?
As always I loved the whole process of drying him with a huge fluffy towel,
patting him all over with a big fluffy powder puff and rubbing baby cream into his little nooks and crannies.
Then the pinning on of his thick fleecy diaper,
still warm from the airing cupboard,
and the tugging up his legs of some very pretty plastic baby pants with little pink hearts all over them.
By now he was already making little sighs of baby contentment and looking at me with an adoring helpless expression which made me shiver with pleasure.
I like to finish dressing him in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in his nursery,
so he can see himself becoming prettier and prettier.
First came one of his frothy white lacy petticoats in billowing clouds of girlie softness, which always make him gasp with pleasure.
He loves to feel the silk and nylon layers floating down to smother him in cascades of baby frilly ness that swish excitingly round his panties.
He started to wriggle and stare at himself in the mirror
I had to wipe his little chin because he was dribbling so much.
Then came his baby dress and,
Oh my!
Did I have an excited baby on my hands!
He was wriggling so much
I had to hold him still to push his arms through the puff sleeves and gather the sides of the dress at the back to do up the little buttons.
He was bouncing up and down frantically now
This is before I have even smoothed out the folds of the skirt over his petticoats and made the hem hang nicely around his panties,
he started to shudder and gave a little cry, and I held him in my arms and kissed his hot cheeks while his little baby thrill continued.
“There their darling, mummy understands,” I say softly .
Then my darling little girl sighed and I held him close.
He will always need me.
No other woman could make him so happy!
This time I put a pink satin ribbon in his soft blonde curly hair and made a big bow on top.
Then I slipped a pair of white woolly booties on his feet and we went downstairs for breakfast.
He clambered into his highchair all by himself
I tied his wrists into the restraining cuffs so he depends on mummy completely for feeding.
I slipped an all-over plastic bib over his lovely new dress because he gets into rather a mess at the table I’m afraid.
“Open wide babykins…here comes da woverly din-dins”
I say making the spoon fly through the air like an airplane.
“Ooooh! here comes da woverly din-dins….in it goes!…..yummy!
…..ooh da clever ickel diddums!”
he gurgles as I stuffed more and more of the gooey mess into his toothless mouth,
scraping the excess from his chin to push it inside too.
“One more spoonful diddums…ooh yes….yummy-yum-yum…”
Then came a bottle of warm sweetened milk with a few drops of the liquid Madame Travesta sends me.
He took the soft rubbery teat eagerly and began to suck sweetly with his head lifted upwards and cradled in my arms.
He shows a strain in his face
he gives a little sigh
I knew he was pouring a stream of baby wetties into his diaper.
“Naughty darling,” I said softly smoothing my hand over his panties and feeling the gushing of warm liquid going on and on and on.
I had put Priscilla in his display crib among silk cushions and pink satin ribbons,
with his lovely baby dress spread out nicely and a big fluffy bunny in his arms.
