Hello (curtsey). This is my first story, hope you like it eventhough my English isn’t flawless.
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Melons. Basketballs. Bowling balls. Helmets. I don’t care what size they resemble, as long as they are Very Large. I’m talking about breasts, juggs, tits, hooters, gazongas – my guess is that there isn’t a part of the female body that has so many nicknames. And rightly so. To be smothered by all that soft flesh, to suck on big nipples, to gaze at big areolas, it’s heaven to me. That is, ofcourse, when I do the sucking, staring or stroking whilst encased in three or more big fluffy diapers, wearing ultrafemine pink dresses and petticoats with lots and lots of ruffles and lace, topped by a bonnet.

Ever since puberty hit, I was obsessed by enormous bosoms. I don’t want to get all anal about it, but I’m sure it had something to do with my mother and her sisters, who had all DD- and even F-sized cups. I remember when I was a kid, I love sitting on the laps of my aunts, my head resting on those soft pillows. The youngest aunt babysat me for a few years, and sometimes I fell on purpose, just so she could comfort me and I could enjoy the view – she always dressed a little slutty, bra-straps in view, short skirts, tight tops and high heels. She sometimes stayed the night, and then gave me a goodnight kiss wearing a seethrough babydoll and matching slippers. At the time I didn’t know what to do with all the strange emotions and feelings that raced through my underage body.

But I made that up quit nicely in the years to follow. Take Katy for instance, a gorgeous brownhaired beauty with DD-tits, who loved to dress up in black lingerie and who was a very good customer at the local lingeriestore. I became one too, for buying her gifts (mostly sheer panties, or stockings, bras or corsets were above my budget) but also to watch the mature woman who owned the lingeriestore. She was a friend of Katy’s mother, all women shared a big passion for sexy undergarments, but Melanie, as her name was, took it up a notch when she was working. Her heaving breasts were always in full display thanks to her push-up bras, and although she was in her forties, she still had great legs that she loved to put in stockings and garters. I remember getting beetred (and rockhard) when she showed me one time how to straighten seemed stockings. She even let me unhook one of her garters, I had to stand so close to her that the tip of my nose was only millimeters from her E-cup tits. After Katy came a whole string of girlfriends, all with D- or bigger tits. Jacqueline had an E-cup as well, she and I only had a short relationship but that got me into sucking nipples. She had very large ones, surrounded by big dark areolas. She (as all girlfriend I had) knew about my preference, and let me suck her massive tits while jerking me off. That got her off too. Sometimes, when she was a little stressed out, she’d call me over, sat on the couch, opened her big blouse and her feeding bra (that I bought her) and let me suck her nipple. That made her relax. And come. And come some more.

So, when did the babything come into play, you may wonder. This started when I read a letter about adult baby games in Penthouse magazine.This forumletter about a guy who expressed his enthousiasm about diapers to his girlfriend, who ended up diapering him and making hot explosive love a little later, made a deep impact. I was so turned on that I made a diaper using terrycloth bathtowels, with plastic pants over them that I bought at the supermarket – for my ‘kid brother’ ofcourse. To cut a long story short – the feeling of soft diapers and the crackle of plastic pants got me hooked. When I was still living at home at home I hid my improvised baby gear at the back of a closet – until one day they were gone. I suspect my mother found ‘m and threw them away, she might not’ve liked it that I stole a couple of pantyhoses and knickers. She never said a word, but her lingeriecloset was always locked after that.
In my own house, and having my own internetconnection, it took me only a couple of months to find the right websites and webstores. I loved reading about sissy babies, their sissy clothes, the dressing up and the humiliations. II never dared to express my fantasies to the girls I was dating. Once there was Inga, who found a couple of magazines with adult baby clothing. The Finnish exchange student with her spectacular DD-rack asked me lots of questions about the mags (I said they were research material for this article I was writing on fetishes for a local paper), but backed off when I half-jokingly suggested that we should order some stuff to try it out. Shortly after that, Inga left me, leaving a drawer full of white cotton panties (she wore them one size to small, so that they rubbed against her crotch) and a couple of pink lacy bras. I kept them as a souvenir.

When I moved to the captal, I bought myself an apartment in a former convent. I’d spent so much time on sites like abkingdom.com, governessx.com and ofcourse sissykiss.com, that the idea of a pink nursery to live out my babyfantasies got in my head. It took a while, but now I have a big cot, a playpen and two big closets filled with diapers, plastic pants, dresses, bonnets, trainingbras, stockings, garters, shoes, ¡nd a few nuns uniforms.
Those are for Mother Superior. Some would call her a Realdoll, I would never say that to her face. She has vowed to silence, but I can hear her voice in my head. She sits quietly in my nursery, in a big rocking chair. Her F-sized tits make a very nice bulge in her uniform, her lips are bright red, her eyeshadow skyblue. From under her habit peek her slender legs, encased in sheer stockings. When I crawl over to her, as she ordered me, she lets me push away her habit a little with my gloved hand, so that I can see her stocking tops. And the straps of the dildo she wearing.
But my eyes are glued to her chest. After I dressed myself up in three thick diapers, put on four petticoats, my very pink, very girlie, very ruffled dress, my white stockings and garters, my white balletshoes, my white-with-read-hearts-training bra, my exaggerated baby bonnet and smeared my lips with redredred-lipstick (like a very young girl would do), I got online and watched clips of all my favourite big tits queens. I especially love the titqueens of the 80s and 90s, like SaRenna Lee, Wendy Whoppers, Lisa Lipps, Chloe Vervier and Kimberly Kupps – big hair, huge breast. My head is filled with nipples, silicone and flesh when I hear Mother Superior call me.
I crawl over to the nursery. She watches me sternly as I come in. Yes Mother, I filled my head with nipples. Yes Mother, I love to be breastfed. No Mother, I haven’t been a bad girl. Please, cradle me in your arms. Ofcourse Mother, first I will show you my dress and my diapers. I will look to myself in the full length mirror while I expose what’s under all those petticoats. I will bend over, and over, and over, as you like it.
No Mother, please don’t make me suck on the punishment cock first. I’ve been good. What? That stain on that ridiculously big bib I’m wearing? Must be babyfood. Sorry Mother. Yes, I will crawl over to you, put my head between your legs and suck the big black babypunishment cock as long as you like it. I will smear lipstick all over it. Use my tongue. Make it all slippery.
I can feel that cock pushing against my diapers when I am on your lap, Mother. Yes, I will open the front of your habit. Take one of those giant breasts out of your black feeding bra. And I will say grace before I put that enormous nipple in my mouth. When my little baby brain thinks of nothing more than your tits and your nipples, I will get off your lap, rub my crotch against your black leather stilletto while I suck again on the cock, Mother. Then can I have my babythrill? Please Mother?,