September 10, 2011

One Inch Tall

If you were only one inch tall, you’d ride a worm to school. The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall. If you were only one inch tall, you’d walk beneath the door, And it would take about a month to get down to the store. A bit of fluff would be your bed, You’d swing upon a spider’s thread, And wear a thimble on your head If you were one inch tall. You’d surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum. You couldn’t hug your mama, you’d just have to hug her thumb. You’d run from people’s feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night, (This poem took fourteen years to write– ‘Cause I’m just one inch tall). by Shel Silverstein Silvie Enjoy the shrinking fantasy would so enjoy doing that to you
September 1, 2011

The End of Summer

Sweet smell of phlox drifting across the lawn— an early warning of the end of summer. August is fading fast, and by September the little purple flowers will all be gone. Season, project, and vacation done. One more year in everybody’s life. Add a notch to the old hunting knife Time keeps testing with a horny thumb. Over the summer months hung an unspoken aura of urgency. In late July galactic pulsings filled the midnight sky like silent screaming, so that, strangely woken, we looked at one another in the dark, then at the milky magical debris arcing across, dwarfing our meek mortality. There were two ways to live: get on with work, redeem the time, ignore the imminence of cataclysm; or else take it slow, be as tranquil as the neighbors’ cow we love to tickle through the barbed wire fence (she paces through her days in massive innocence, or, seeing green pastures, we imagine so). In fact, not being cows, we have no choice. Summer or winter, country, city, we are prisoners from the start and automatically, hemmed in, harangued by the one clamorous voice. Not light but language shocks us out of sleep ideas of doom transformed to meteors we translate back to portents of the wars looming above the nervous watch we keep. By Rachel Hadas Mommy Lorraine Mommy Lorraine is always around to play with babies and sissies
August 24, 2011

Nap Time

I always like to have a ritual when it comes to nap time.  A fresh diaper is always first, as I softly talk to you.  Next we gather your favorite stuffed animal, you blankie, and a fresh baba.  Then I gently put you in your crib and pull out Goodnight Moon to read to you.  And if you are a good aby, I will gently pat your thickly padded tushie until you drift off to dreamland.  See, nap time isn’t a bad time after all, is it?   Your AB Mommy Maggie 1-888-430-2010
August 17, 2011

Little Sissy Girl

Last night I sat one of the naughtiest little babies that I have ever come across! He kept shouting out no-no words, grabbing at my breasts, and making huge messes in his little diaper!! I tried spanking, time outs, no television, but nothing worked!!!!   It came to the point where I just couldn’t take it any more, so I turned this bratty baby into a little sissy girl, and laughed hysterically at him!!! This punishment sure worked!!! The little sissy baby was dressed up in her little pink bonnet, princess pacifier, pink footsie pajamas, and of course a little pink disposable diaper, with plastic crinkly pants!   I hate to say it, but I had FUN torturing the little sissy baby for being such a brat earlier!!!!   So if you are a naughty baby…this might happen to you if you act up while I babysit you!!!     Nanny Ella 1-888-430-2010
August 16, 2011

Tinkle Tinkle

Look at the lil man, he cant hold his bladder. I make him drink and drink and drink and his pants gets a wet spot. I cant help but laugh at his wetness and I tease him about putting him back into baby diapers but he thinks that I am just cruel and I would never really do such a think. But hmmm he must not know me very well *giggles* Jenna 1 888 430 2010  
August 11, 2011

Pretty Little Sissy ABie

There is this particular sissy abie (we will call him baby S) – well, he would deny it emphatically, but make no mistakes, he is a sissy abie.  We are in the process of having him accept the fact that deep inside, he truly is a little sissy abie – he isn’t having too many issues with the abie part per say; it’s the sissy part that seems to be the source of his conflict.  He grumbles about wearing a diaper, yet he wears them.  (He looks so cute with his tushie all puffed out from his thick diaper!  And when we cover it with ruffles…ADORABLE!!)  Now he moans and groans when he is put in something pretty and pink and full of ruffles and lace, protesting that he is not a sissy abie, but the fact of the matter is, is that his little peepee says other wise!  It gets all tingly when it is put in something so frilly, and it will swell in approval, giving his true inner self away. So in an effort to help him accept his true self, I have instructed him to say this little line…over and over and over again…. (if you see him in the chatroom, ask him to say it for you, hehehe)   Now repeat after me – …I’m a pretty little sissy abie… …I’m a pretty little sissy abie… …I’m a pretty little sissy abie…     Maggie
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