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By cute little kokiri girl · Posted
(I wrote this story a long time ago. It was based on a drawing. I believe this may be one of the first stories I ever wrote in this vein.) Michelle’s Mistake. by Alec Leamus. Michelle was a long way from New York and desperately needed money. She had moved to a new town after her divorce from Brad. They had married young and after only two years it began to go sour. Michelle modeled and the attention that Michelle got was too much for their marriage. So, it was a surprise when she bumped into Lorraine. Michelle was happy to finally see a familiar face in a town of strangers. However, Lorraine was no friend. Michelle had mercilessly teased her in high school then college even though she was grade above her. She remembered that Lorraine was a little shorter then and had not yet blossomed physically. In addition, her hair was never styled, and she rarely dated. Then without warning Lorraine’s family had moved away. Lorraine had grown up very nicely and was well toned. During their brief conversation Michelle discovered that Lorraine was the local real estate icon and president of the PTA. Michelle tried to hide her admiration of Lorraine’s long list of local accomplishments. More importantly Lorraine seemed to have a very respected position in the community. Several women passed and greeted Lorraine with the manner of a royal subject addressing their lady. Cautiously Michelle then related her experiences over the past few years keeping an upbeat slant on her stories peppered with an occasional famous name. At the end of her resume Michelle again felt superior. This was even more accentuated when Lorraine commented on how Michelle had retained her fresh and youthful looks. All these thoughts swirled in her head as she pressed the doorbell of Lorraine’s two-story Georgian house. Lorraine had offered her a temporary job or gig as Michelle kept insisting. Michelle was a model after all, even if she was temporarily trapped in this provincial burb. So, Michelle had swallowed her pride and pondered Lorraine’s suspicious kindness and donned her finest suit from Saks. Lorraine greeted her still dressed in her fashionable business suit. Michelle took notice that in her high heels she appeared much taller than when they first met. Quickly Lorraine ushered Michelle upstairs into a bedroom. “Here are the clothes I want you to model. The women from the committee will be here soon.” Lorraine said flatly. A childish frilly dress complete with white socks and saddle socks laughed at her from the bed. “What? I’m not putting that on. I thought I would be modeling. I think what I have on is very stylish.” Michelle said. “Yes, you look wonderful, dear.” Lorraine pushed. “But these are the clothes the committee is considering as a new uniform for the local school.” The word dear struck Michelle. “Can’t you get one of the students to do this?” she asked. “We are trying to keep it a secret before we unveil it to the parents and the board. None of the other mothers possess your petite frame so I thought you could help out.” “ Can’t you take a picture or something or just hold it up?” Michelle was beginning to have serious doubts. “It wouldn’t be the same. Unfortunately, we have a few holdouts in our group so a few of us thought visualization would help. Then we can make suggestions and tweak the uniform before presenting it.” Lorraine continued. “Besides, no one knows you here, but if you don’t want the hundred dollars.” Lorraine trailed off. Michelle sighed and smiled. She needed the money. “Alright, I suppose I can make it fun.” “Be sure and clean off that makeup and put your hair up.” Lorraine added. “We want you to look convincing. I’ll call for you when the ladies are ready. Meanwhile stay up here.” Lorraine shut the door. Michelle paused and looked at the hideous uniform. It did not look like a school uniform and the frills were out of place. The skirt was short, and the puffy sleeves enhanced the childlike quality of the outfit. “What are these women thinking?” Michelle wondered. Michelle took off her jacket, pants and blouse and laid them on the bed then went into the bathroom. Clad in her pantyhose, heels and bra she stood in front of the sink. She quickly found a few items and pulled her hair back with a large clip. She washed her face with a handy facial soap and finished with a light scrub. As she gently blotted her face, she noticed that Lorraine was correct in tapping her for the modeling gig. She did look young, especially without any makeup, maybe too young. Michelle looked for her purse to do a touch up. “Damn, I left it downstairs.” Michelle thought. Indeed she had left her purse and cell phone downstairs on the marble side table in the foyer. “Oh well, I’ll sneak away after and grab it.” Michelle sat on the bed and kicked off her heels then slowly peeled off her nylons. She stood up and stretched and removed her bra. Suddenly the door opened, and Michelle made a mad grab for her jacket. Unfortunately, the jacket only partially covered her nude form. “Sorry, I thought you were dressed. I just wanted to let you know it will be about fifteen minutes so you better hurry.” Lorraine smiled and looked Michelle over. “I guess it was good casting on my part. You look smaller without your clothes.” “Thanks.” Michelle snarled back. “A little privacy please?” “Right. Good luck.” Lorraine finished and tucked her head back through the partially open door and shut it. “Stupid bitch.” Michelle softly said. Michelle now felt as though all the interest and novelty had been drained from the experience. She moved to the uniform and stared. She slipped on the dress and then the ruffled panties. She bent down and pulled on the ankle socks and tied the saddles shoes into place. She continued to dress, as the noise from downstairs grew louder from the women that filtered from the foyer into the large living room. Michelle turned to the mirror and pulled her hair into two pigtails and tied them with the matching ribbon from the bed. Suddenly, all went quiet downstairs. Michelle stopped and felt her heart drop. “Alright Michelle!” Lorraine called up the stairs. The weight of her situation pushed upon her. She looked in the mirror and almost did not recognize herself. Her hair now in pigtails and her face freshly scrubbed devoid of makeup really did give her a very youthful appearance. She pushed down on the ruffles under the skirt. It would not stay down. Even her breasts seemed flat under the heavy folds of the dress. “There’s no way they’re going to approve this.” Michelle thought. “Michelle! Now!” Lorraine called again. “Did she sound angry?” Michelle pondered. The scene below was tight with anticipation and its pressure squeezed Michelle’s insides. Halfway down the stairs the murmurs had turned to silence and she had thought of turning back up the stairs. Then she remembered all the events she had worked in only a thong bikini. Michelle wondered why she felt so underdressed. The domestic atmosphere and the thought of being attired so childishly for Lorraine’s peers probably was the answer. Michelle tiptoed into the living room filled with twenty smartly dressed ladies. Very softly a few of the ladies made audible sounds of approval. Most of them wore blank or even scowling expressions. “This is Michelle.” Lorraine began. “She is here to help us with our demonstration.” The ladies nodded. Michelle felt exceedingly small and noticed that Lorraine was now towering over her. Michelle reflected that she should have worn her own heels instead of the saddle shoes. Lorraine probably would have been upset but she would not be so short next to her. Michelle waited for her instructions. “Michelle, come here.” Lorraine commanded as she grabbed her wrist. It felt odd to Michelle, but this was Lorraine’s show and she was the producer. Michelle smiled at the ladies and politely followed. Lorraine moved to the center of the living room and sat in a chair. A few of the ladies shifted in their chairs and a few of them began to stand. Michelle stood patiently next to Lorraine. “Now Michelle, let us begin.” Lorraine said coldly. And with that one statement an enormous movement enveloped Michelle as she felt herself being pulled over Lorraine’s lap and into a familiar position. Strength poured down Lorraine’s arm and into her left hand clamping Michelle over her knees. Lorraine’s right hand was equally busy as she swiped aside Michelle’s skirt. Michelle immediately spat out obscenity after obscenity. Unaffected, Lorraine continued her oration as Michelle struggled on her lap. “Michelle is fourteen. She is my niece. She is unruly, disrespectful and as you can plainly hear full of obscenities.” Lorraine said loudly. “I’m am not your niece you stupid bitch! Let me up! I’m gonna sue you! You f#@*ing cow! I’m an adult I’m not a kid! F*#@ You! Michelle continued her verbal assault as she struggled to free herself. Lorraine continued speaking even louder. “Her parents have sent her to visit with me as a last resort in hopes that she can be corrected before shipping her off to a costly reform school. I have dressed her as a child not only for punishment purposes but also for demoralization. That is why I have invited you all here tonight. We are all too aware of our mounting discipline problems at school and at home so it is with this demonstration that I hope we can unite in a common goal and take back our community!” As her last words echoed to the last lady they were replaced by a new slapping sound as Lorraine began to spank her childhood tormenter. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Spank after spank impacted onto Michelle’s taut behind. Then without warning Michelle screamed as Lorraine pulled down her ruffled panties. She bucked and gyrated which only caused Lorraine to increase her frequency and strength of impact. Michelle attempted to cease her struggling as she imagined the women standing behind her were seeing more than her reddening bottom. However, the heat that began to generate across her backside prevented her from stillness. The spanking continued for almost ten minutes as Lorraine’s hair began to fall and tears welled up in Michelle’s eyes. The pain and humiliation were overwhelming as Michelle began to cry a little. Lorraine began to feel her arm tire. So, fearing the moment was going to end she began to lecture Michelle slowing her rhythm to a few swats for emphasis. “Are you going to be a good little girl?” SWAT! “When I tell you to do something, are you going to do it and talk back?” SWAT! SWAT! “Are you going to bully and make fun of others anymore?” SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! To each of these Michelle answered with an emphatic “No!” She was mortified and began to scour the sea of discerning faces for rescue. Unfortunately, she was only met with a patronizing smile or a stern frown. SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! “I’m not her niece! I’m a friend of hers. She made me dress this way. Look, my purse is in the hallway!” Michelle pleaded into the crowd. No one moved but there was no purse in the hallway and Michelle felt her adulthood slip away as the pain increased. Her bottom was fire and a few times she even felt herself kick her legs. Then gratefully Lorraine stopped and effortlessly stood her on her legs of jelly. Michelle instinctively rubbed her bottom then reached for her panties but had her hand swatted away. Michelle understood why when she was led not upstairs but waddled through the smiling faces of women to a nearby corner. She was going to make her stand here with her panties down around her ankles with her red bottom on display while these women went back to their coffee and cake. “No. Please Lorraine. Not that.” Michelle sniffled. This plea was met with a quick spin and a rapid fire of spanks to her already heated bottom. “Mind me! And call me Aunt Lorraine.” She commanded. As she felt Lorraine push her nose into the corner, she heard a small round of applause and the conversations rise and begin again. For a moment Lorraine’s voice remained above the rest. “Yes, she going to be staying with me all summer.” Lorraine laughed. THE END -
Questions “There’s my little sleepy head! Daddy thought he would have to wake you up.” Daddy stood at the bottom of the steps with his arms open wide, and patiently waited as if this was just another day. Normally, it would be. He trusted you enough to sleep in a big girl bed. There were high bars so you wouldn’t tumble out but low enough that you could get out on your own. But only when it was awake time. Daddy made you pinky swear to behave and stay in bed all night like a good girl. If you disobeyed, that meant bye- bye big girl privileges. It’s why you tried your hardest to be the best girl you could be, but this morning it was tricky. Your stomach twisted in knots from where you stood at the top of the stairs. Bunching your nightgown in your fist, soft suckles sounded as you anxiously gnawed on your paci. All this was because at the bottom of the stairs was a very scary man you didn’t want to see. But you knew this was coming up. Daddy told you many times but you didn’t think it would be at the crack of dawn. “Come on, baby,” Daddy huffed in an edged tone. “It’s not polite to keep our guests waiting.” Sleepy eyes met a critical silver hue. Eyeing you up and down, his lips twitched in a barely suppressed amusement. You didn’t like him. He wanted to separate you and Daddy. But still, you clutched onto the bannister in a clammy grip, and took one step at a time. A crinkling came from the bulk of padding that drooped between your thighs. Always slightly off balance, you had to carefully maneuver your way down the steps. That is why, hesitant and fearful, you took your sweet time. Daddy and the man waited with a baited breath as the final floorboard creaked and you scooted to his side. Half hidden behind his body, the rubber nipple bounced with increased urgency. It was enough to distract you from your squishy nighttime diaper and poo bottom stained. It was enough to distract you from the fact that your nightie was so short, there was no hiding the rounded bulk that expanded nearly to your knees. But Daddy demanded a mushy and wet diaper every morning. It was the requirement if you didn’t want to meet Mr. Bubbles and the thought of an enema sent shivers down your spine. While usually he changed you right away, this morning you had a very important visitor. “Say hello, pumpkin,” Daddy cooed. Patting your squishy bottom, he pulled you to the front. “Mr. Darcy is a nice man. He’s just here to ensure that you’ve been a good girl and ask a few questions.” A good girl. That could mean many things. Loyalty to the Patriarchy. Acceptance of your diapered life. When it was decided that the female species had reached a new level of immaturity, the government was overthrown. Rebels became rulers and women were enslaved to a world of diapers and baby powder. The Patriarchy had to maintain the status quo which was why a few times a year, they went around and questioned all women in an attempt to sniff out any rebellion. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, knowing the power this man held and whimpered demurly, “Hewo Mr. Dawcy.” Daddy liked you to use your words. Mutters and mumbles weren’t an appropriate greeting. The men laugh around you, low and condescending and utterly humiliating. It made you feel small. It made you feel less than. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you ducked your head in shame. “This should take less than half an hour,” the man spoke to Daddy, straightening the tie of his fine pressed suit. The color matched his eyes, and you watched as they flickered over the clipboard in his hands and then to you. “Shall we go to the living room?” When Mr. Darcy said we, you assumed it meant you and Daddy, but there you sat alone on the couch in front of the man. Your hands twisted in your lap. Daddy wouldn’t like it if you leaked on the couch. Right now, you were near bursting. But you couldn’t help the nervous tinkles. Across from you, the man smiled knowingly, making a note on the paper that you couldn’t see. “There is no reason to be nervous,” he reassured, “that is if you have nothing to hide.” You didn’t. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. After all, Mr. Darcy was the high inquisitor and if there was something to be found out, he was the man to do so. But ever since your Daddy adopted you, access to the outside was minimal. It wasn't your world anymore. Diapers and snuggles and playtime with Daddy were all you cared about now. No responsibility, life was easier that way. It was better. “I’m going to ask a list of questions. All you need to do is answer truthfully. Do you know what that means?” he asked, gently pulling you back from your thoughts. Truthfully? Your brows squished together. Removing your pacifier from your lips where it was clipped to your shirt, you frowned. That’s a big girl word. But you thought you knew. Maybe… “T-twuth-f-f-ly means not pwetend.” You stumbled over the word but that didn’t matter. Truthfully meant real stuff like your princess tea parties with your stuffed animals. “Very good!” He beamed. “Let’s get started then.” You nodded nervously, lapping at the dripping drool from your chin as your thumb entered your mouth. Daddy didn’t like that. He said it was yucky, but he wasn’t here right now, so you could do whatever you wanted. But that was besides the point. Mr. Darcy began, “what is your name?” Oh! That’s easy! “Y/n,” you giggled. Daddy called you lots of silly names like Pumpkin, Muffintop, Peach, Poopybutt, Buttercup - “How old are you?” You blink. How old? Pouting dejectedly, you try to remember what you learned at daycare. You used to be bigger before Daddy decided you needed to be small again and numbers didn’t matter anymore. But then you remembered your birthday party from a few months ago when you turned - “Fwee!” That’s it. Three years old. It’s what you celebrated this year and last year, and you didn’t know how to count so it all made sense. Scribbling noisily, he said, “are you potty trained?” You made a face. “Daddy twies but I’m not very good.” That was a sore topic that always ended in tears. You couldn’t even last a day. Although little girls did not need the potty when they already had one around their waist. “Do you love your Daddy?” Of course! You gasped. Sometimes your mind tried to trick you that Daddy was evil and took away your freedom. Yet he was always there to chase away the bad thoughts at the end of the day. He asked others things like how you liked your diapers and how many times you went potty a day, but you didn’t know because that was Daddy’s job. You introduced him to your best friend Fluffy the Hippo, and told him all about the times you watched Soggy Froggy, and how it made you feel all foggy after; and you didn’t forget Daisy next door. Daddy forced you to have play dates with her and all she did was brag about how she could sing the entire ABCs and you couldn’t. Seemingly pleased, he paused for a moment and stared at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Lips pursed, he said, “I need you to think carefully about this next question… have you had any contact with the Women's Radical Movement?” You could sense the immediate change in tone as a heaviness settled over the room. “No.” Your response was firm. No wavering or hesitation. Everyone knew of the rebellion. At one point, you’d even thought of joining like every other woman. But that was before Daddy. Now you knew better. They were terrorists. Monsters. They wanted to take you away from Daddy. Maybe they were still active. Maybe they weren’t. It didn’t matter to you anymore. “Are you a member of the Women’s Radical Movement?” No. “Do you know anyone else that is a part of the Women’s Radical Movement?” Once again, no. He continued on asking the same question in a bunch of different ways until you couldn’t take it anymore, and began to whine. You thought this would be easy. “This is the last question,” he sighed when it started to become too much. “Do you pledge your allegiance to the Patriarchy?” “Yes.” You breathed. That was a stupid question. Everyone knew that it was suicide to say no, not that anyone would ever be that stupid. But you were women after all. There was a reason you were in diapers and not the men. All hail the Patriarchy. -
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By widdlemikey · Posted
Yeah, I'm in Michigan, north of Traverse City and can smell it too.... like a camp fire. -
So while alcohol itself is a diuretic, I suspect the additional reason people are more likely to wet the bed is alcohol's withdrawal, which is effectively a rebound stimulant. Similarly if you are on ADHD meds you're probably less likely to wet the bed at night (stimulant withdrawal would reduce sympathetic bladder contractions).
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