Permission to Poo Poo (Custom Caption)

I’ve got him trained. He doesn’t get to just his diaper when he ‘wants’ anymore. No, at first we called them his little ‘accidents’, but now? Things are different.

He has to come ask permission to poo poo in his diapers.

It seems simple enough, but let me tell you, it’s not only adorable, it’s incredibly amusing.

I can always tell just by the way he traipses in. He gets this certain look on his blushy face, staring at the floor.

“What’s the matter?” I’ll sometimes say. Other times I just wait for him to clear his throat and broach the subject himself.

His voice is always so squeaky. So pitchy. So pathetic. You would think he’d be used to it by now, but he still gets so embarrassed.

“Uh-uh Mommy? Sissy neeth to go poo poo’s…” He’ll say, or at least some variation of it. He’s learned to use his lispy baby voice when he asks, otherwise the odds aren’t good that I'll give him permission, or I won’t change him after. He’s never allowed to look anywhere but the floor in my presence, other than when he’s asking for poo poo permission. I like to see his eyes when he does it. The glassy, glossy film they get. The way they’re so desperate, yet so defeated. Like every ounce of manhood is gone behind them.

Once he’s made his pathetic little plea, I usually ask him a series of questions.

“Where do sissy baby girl’s make their poo poo’s?”

“Why should I let you?”

“Remind me why you have to use diapers and can’t use the big girl potty?”

Or some variation. The idea is to get him to verbalize the things he has to do, why he has to do them and—most importantly—where he has to do them. After all this time, he still struggles with saying the word “diaper” out loud.

Once he finally gets my approval, he has to get in position right then and there.

I call it the squatty potty. Not the little stool that every adult has beneath their toilet, he doesn’t get to use either of those things. No no, instead he has to drop down on his haunches in order to make a little pushy.

Sometimes it takes him a while, he has to just squat there awkwardly in silence while I watch him. Sometimes he’s able to drop his diaper dump quickly, and I’ll tease him for being such a fast pamper pooper.

When I first made him start wearing heels, you should have seen how many times he slipped and fell on the tile. More than a few times, he fell right back on his bum bum and squished the mush all over his tush. His revolted face is something I’ll never forget.

Once the deed is done, I make him tell me. Obviously he doesn’t just get to say “I’m done” either. He must explicitly tell me what he just did in his diapers. Sometimes I pretend to not hear and make him repeat it, maybe even shout it. Whatever I have to do to make his face turn that particular shade of crimson I so enjoy.

Nothing gets it quite as dark of a red as when I have my friends over. Oh my GOD I would have them over every day if I could. He’s ten times more skittish and humiliated when they’re around.

He knows that if he does make a poopy diaper without permission, the consequences will be dire. Extended stays in his dirty diapers until he gets a rash, time outs where he has to hold his ripe, rolled up diaper against the wall with his face, public outings, spankings (always), I've even threatened to mush his face directly into it. I probably won’t ever follow through with that one, but he doesn’t know that.

So I promise you, ladies. If your sissy isn’t as entertaining during diaper changes any more, or even as a prissy pamper princess in general, make him start begging for the privilege of pooping his diaper. I promise you, it’s such a small thing, but it can reignite that feeling of power and—in his case—severe humiliation.