A Holiday Angel By Deewet

Suicide. I’ve read that the most suicides are during the holidays and
although I’ve never considered killing myself, as I sit alone in a new
city during Christmas, I can see how loneliness could drive someone to
that extreme. My small Christmas tree seems pathetic, making me wish I
hadn’t bothered.

My eyes are tired from reading the endless stories on the web. Lately,
I’d moved from transgender stories, which enticed me with fantasies
about using my little girl size to excite men, to sissy stories. Not
that I’m gay, I love women. It’s just that my size doesn’t attract the
opposite sex who are looking for a hunk.

I don’t know why, but the thoughts of being diapered are with me all
the time now. I’ve got a collection of panties and am thinking of
expanding with the baby underwear.

Then, I wonder if I’ll ever meet someone. It would be so nice to meet a
woman and maybe push these other fantasies out of my life.

I turned from the computer and am about to hit the remote to watch some
TV when a soft knock comes to my apartment door.

“It’s me,” says a familiar voice.

It is my neighbor from across the hall, the only person I know in New
York except the few people from work. Diana is a big woman, who I know
is probably also alone this Christmas Eve. She has watched my cat
before when I had to leave for business and we have talked over beers
and watched a movie together, but that’s been it. We would make a weird
looking couple with her over six feet tall and me barely five feet.

“One minute,” I say, scrambling to find my jeans to cover my pink
panties. I smile for a second, wondering how shocked she’d be if I came
to the door in these panties.

“I was wondering if you like to come over for a drink,” she says when I
open the door. “No one should be alone tonight.”

I’m very grateful and say yes quickly. Maybe too quickly, I worry.
Maybe she’ll think I’m a desperate fool.

She doesn’t. She smiles and leads me across the hall. And, I mean lead.
Surprisingly, she grabs my hand tightly and pulls me into her
apartment.

Her place is so warm and friendly compared to my sparse place. Her
Christmas tree is large and with a sinking feeling, I see a pile of
presents. She obviously had a big Christmas planned with her family or
someone and she was just taking a little pity on me.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” I mumble.

“Are you kidding me,” she says. “It just took me a lot of nerve to come
get you and no way are you leaving now.”

She leads me to the couch, but instead of letting me sit there, she
gently pushes me to sit on the floor. “I believe Santa has been here
for you.”

I’m stunned and embarrassed as she leaves me to retrieve the presents
under her tree. In my self-pity about being alone I never thought to
get her a present. I’m even more shocked to see that all the presents
are for me.

“I-I didn’t get you anything,” I stammer.

She plops on the coach behind me, with a leg on each side of me. For a
second I feel like a little kid at Christmas. “Don’t worry about that.
These are for both of us,” she says. This puzzles me. “Open the green
one first,” she prods.

I open the small box and find a pacifier. I try to turn to her but she
will not let me. “Please, don’t say a word until you have opened
everything.”

With my hands shaking slightly I take the red box she hands to me. In
this box are five shower caps. At least I think they are shower caps
until I pull one out of the box and see that it is actually a pair of
plastic pants. There is a pink pair, a light blue pair, a pair with
dancing animals, a pair with blocks and one pair is clear. I start to
say something again, but I’m muffled by the pacifier she sticks in my
mouth.

“Relax, I got into your computer,” she says. “The stories sounded so
great and with our size difference, this makes so much sense.”

I’m not sure what to do. I continue to stare at the oversized plastic
pants until she prods me to open the rest of the presents. When I
finish, there are a stack of diapers, pins, powder and such on one side
of me. On the other are ruffled socks, black baby shoes (adult sized of
course) an adorable purple jumper with bows and ballerinas, a blouse
with a purple lined Peter Pan collar and puffy sleeve. The biggest box
contains a huge petticoat.

I still had the pacifier in my mouth when she stood and left the room
for a second. She came back with a comforter she spread across the
floor. She kneels and pats it for me to come over and lie down.

This is as if I’ve fallen into another world and my wildest fantasies
are being met. She seems so loving and I trust her completely as I
crawl over and lie on my back.

She didn’t let me lie down right away. She pulls me to a sitting
position and begins to pull off my shirt. I can’t place the emotions I
feel as I passively let her take off my clothes. Not since I was a
little boy, did a woman strip me for something besides sex, and then I
have to admit to myself, only two women had done it for sex and both
times ended in embarrassing disappointment.

My skin seems alive with sensitivity. The touch of her soft hands on my
shoulders and then my hairless chest sends shivers through my whole
body. I close my eyes as she pushes me onto my back. When she takes off
my jeans and sees my red panties and shaved legs she’ll be the only
person to know my secret. I want to assure her that I’m not gay, but
the pacifier stops me and I don’t want to remove it from my mouth. For
some reason, I’m afraid to do anything that might break this spell.

She says nothing after I’m down to my panties. Instead, she does
something so very nice. “Those are so perfect on you, I almost hate to
take them off,” she says in a soothing, motherly voice. “But, we have
to get my little girl into her soft, safe diapers and plastic pants.
I’ve been waiting to make you my baby since you first moved across the
hall.”

Her voice makes things sound right.

In the background, Christmas music plays while she turns me into
something new and wonderful. My panties are gone and I’m as naked as a
baby. A familiar smell fills the room as she sprinkles powder on me.
When her soft hands rub the baby powder on me I don’t get aroused. In
my state of mind, that would be wrong as I regress into a place in my
past. A place we all have been before when the world was new for us and
we weren’t alone.

My submission to her is locked with the diaper pins she uses to put me
firmly in the diaper. She is my mommy and I have complete trust in her.
I lift my legs as she pulls the plastic pants on me. These also bring
long lost memories of being young and not able to control my body
functions.

The transformation continues in the light from the Christmas tree.
First comes the blouse. She coos as she buttons the purple buttons on
the blouse. She puts the pretty dress on me, zipping it up in the back
and then pulls up the petticoat under my skirt. I’ve always thought I
have nice shapely legs and they look wonderful in the black Mary Jane
shoes and ruffled sissy socks. She doesn’t let me look in the mirror
until she puts a blond wig on me and little dashes of make-up on my
face. The last step is lavender polish on my nails to match my dress

When she takes me to the mirror, my knees almost buckle. I can’t
believe the change. My old self has vanished, replaced by this vision
of lace, ruffles and cuteness. I focus first on my eyes and face,
framed in the silky blond hair of my wig. The blue eye shadow makes my
blue eyes look dazzling. I suck harder on the pacifier as my eyes
travel down to my dress. The petticoat pushes out the dancing
ballerinas on my dress. The waist is high, not at my real waist, but at
my thin chest, making the whole thing so babyish.

I turn to Diana and smile, tears forming in my eyes. There is a bond
that forms between us and I’m no longer alone. She opens her arms and I
hug her tight. In her strong arms, I glance over to the mirror and I
see only a little girl, hugging her mommy, her plastic pants picking
out from under the ruffles of the petticoat.

“Come on,” she says to me. “You have more presents to open.”

I waddle over to the tree – I can only waddle in these thick diapers -
and see more presents. They are all for me and as I sit on the floor
opening the gifts, while she video tapes me, I realize that she plans
for this to be more than a one night of fantasy playing. There are more
dresses, tights, shoes, rompers, pajamas with feet, baby bottles, and
disposable and cloth diapers. My head spins and I’m swallowed in this
new world.

Soon, I’m finished. She smiles and puts me on the couch. For a few
minutes, she leaves me alone as she gets a bottle ready for me. I look
down at my legs sticking out of my petticoat and wish this night would
never end. It feels so right, sitting on my padded bottom and feeling
the plastic of my pants on the inside of my thighs, my legs apart
because of the thick diaper. As I wait for her, I begin to wet my
diaper. The spreading warmth feels so right and wonderful. The wetness
safely protected by my plastic pants.

She returns with my bottle and with my head in her lap, I suck down the
warm milk. The stereo is playing, “I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

Happy Holidays to everyone and I hope you’ll be Home for the Holidays.
Deewet

Re: A Holiday Angel By Deewet

I found this story on FictionMania & with all the Christmas themed stories & questions about doing one, I thought bringing this here would be appropriate!! I hope it is & if not, it can be deleted!!