Act
Your Age - part
2
By nautybaby ©
2002
(As always, comments and suggestions welcome.
nautybaby@hotmail.com)
I woke refreshed. My sleep had been filled
with dreams of soft scents and billowy cushions. I could not
remember a better night’s rest. I stretched and rolled onto my
back, when I was struck by the sensation of dampness around my
bottom. The events of last night began to unfold. The spanking, the
soap, wetting on Lesley’s diaper covered lap, falling asleep as I
nursed at her breast.
I was beginning to worry about how far
Lesley
was planning to carry this. I had behaved badly with
Carol
, sure, but this was more than getting even. There was a change in
Lesley
that I could not explain. These childish punishments were
humiliating. Still, I had never felt so close to her. Something
about this seemed so … right. What was going on?
“Good morning, Sleepyhead,”
Lesley
startled me out of my reverie. “How did my Sweetie sleep.”
I blushed, having wet a little in the
surprise of
Lesley
’s intrusion into my thoughts.
Lesley
sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed my forehead gently.
Another more loving kiss was planted on my lips. I embraced her and
was caught up in the moment, when I felt her fingers slide inside
the waistband of my diaper. I broke the kiss and turned away, hoping
I wouldn’t cry.
“
It
’s okay, Sweetheart. That’s what diapers are for. Let Mommy
help
you get that off.”
She slid the bedclothes down, exposing me.
She unfastened the diaper and smiled. I blushed. There was no
denying my enjoyment of her ministrations.
“I think my baby needs a bath. He
stinks,” she said laughingly. She stood me up and gently pushed me
in the direction of the bathroom.
“My, my. Such a red bottom. Are you getting
a rash, Sweetness?” she giggled.
I frowned at her. She knew darn well why my
bottom was red.
The bath felt great, especially the way she
washed me. I nearly had an accident of a different kind as she made
sure to get my hidden places good and clean. She threw some of my
nephew’s tub toys in the water and told me to play while she got
some things ready. She warned me not to get any water on the floor.
I sat and looked at the toys for a few
minutes wondering what to do. Eventually, I picked up a boat and
started pushing it around. I pushed the submarine under the water,
sneaking up on the boat and ramming it from underneath. I picked up
a cup and started pouring water on top of the boat, trying to sink
it. Pretty soon, I was making tidal waves in the tub.
Lesley
chose that moment to come back. My last tidal wave sloshed over the
side and splashed her shoes. She was not pleased. I looked up at her
and gave her a weak smile.
“I think it’s time for you to get out,”
she said, her anger barely under control.
Lesley
pulled a towel from the linen press and told me to stand up. She
dried me roughly and sent me to the bedroom with a swat on my
behind.
There were clothes laid out on the bed. These
were my regular clothes, and I breathed a small sigh of relief to
know we would be getting back to normal. I moved toward the bed to
get dressed.
Lesley
stopped me abruptly.
“I don’t think so. Those clothes are for
somebody who’s grown up and mature, not for somebody who can’t
be trusted to take a bath without making a mess. We’ll have to
find you something more appropriate, won’t we?”
“
Awww
,
Lesley
. I was just having a little fun.”
“So, it’s fun making a mess of the
bathroom and getting my shoes wet, is it? Let’s see how fun you
think this is.” She grabbed my wrist and headed for her vanity
chair. Her other hand snatched the towel from my waist.
“No, pleeeeeease! Not another spanking.
I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I’ll be good.”
“Oh, you will be good. And you will clean
up your mess,” she growled. “But not before I teach you a lesson
about minding what Mommy says.”
She snatched up her hairbrush and brought it
crashing down on my soft and tender backside. Sitting in the water
all that time made me especially sensitive. It was only a matter of
seconds before I was crying in earnest. When my bottom was blazing
red and my cries were no longer intelligible
Lesley
put down the hairbrush and sent me to the corner.
“Now let’s see what fashions the bad
little boy will be wearing today.” I could hear
Lesley
rummaging around the room. I didn’t dare turn to look. “I think
this will do for now. Come on, little one.”
I turned around and she was holding a diaper
in one hand and a yellow and white striped top that belonged to her
in the other. The top had lap shoulders and looked very sexy on her
voluptuous frame. When she put it on me, it did not even come down
to the top of the diaper, making me look like an over-grown toddler.
“Now you will get in that bathroom, young
man, and you will not just wipe up the mess you made. You will scrub
the entire bathroom from top to bottom. You had better do a good job
of it too, because you aren’t getting any breakfast until I’m
satisfied. Is that clear?”
“Yes,
Lesley
,” I said meekly.
“Yes what?”
“Yes … Mommy.”
“Much better. Now get in there and get to
work.”
I shuffled back to the bathroom, my head hung
in shame. What was I thinking? I wasn’t, obviously. I looked at
the puddles on the floor and sighed at my stupidity.
I took the discarded towel
Lesley
had used to dry me and mopped up the excess water. I filled the sink
with hot water and took the tub and tile cleaner from beneath
it
. For the next hour, I sprayed and scrubbed, sprayed and scrubbed. I
made sure every crevice around the toilet was as clean as could be.
The way things were going lately, I half expected
Lesley
to come back with a white glove. I had emptied and wipe out the sink
and was looking around to be sure everything sparkled when
Lesley
came in. She stood with her arms folded and slowly looked about,
nodding.
“Acceptable,” she said. “I expect you
to keep
it
this way. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Le …” I stopped myself, not
knowing if things had changed that much. “Mommy.”
The fainted trace of a grin formed around
Lesley
’s mouth.
“Good boy,” she said, stepping over to
me. “Now come eat your breakfast before
it
gets cold.”
She took my hand and guided me out of the
bathroom, giving me a few pats on the bottom as I passed in front of
her. I got down to the table to find
it
set with a large bowl of oatmeal and a tall glass of milk.
“But
Lesley
, I don’t like oatmeal.”
“Now, now,
it
’s good for you. Boys your age need to keep regular. Be a good boy
and sit down.”
As I sat down,
Lesley
picked up the dish towel that was lying on the table and proceed to
tie
it
around my neck.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not a
little shocked.
“That’s my shirt you’re wearing. I want
to make sure
it
stays clean”
I couldn’t really argue with her logic.
Well, I could, but
it
didn’t seem a very good idea at the moment. I stared down into the
bowl of gray goo with the pat of butter melting on top.
“But there’s so much,” I said looking
up at her.
“Don’t whine,” she said curtly. Then
taking a more soothing tone, she suggested, “If you promise to eat
it
all gone, I’ll put some brown sugar on
it
, how’s that?”
“Okay,” I sighed, still not thrilled at
the prospect.
Lesley
cleared her throat. “Uh …yes, Mommy,” I stammered hurriedly.
“Mm hmm,” she nodded, going to the
cupboard.
Lesley
returned and sprinkled a little brown sugar in the cereal.
“More please?” I asked, giving her my
best puppy dog eyes.
She thought about
it
for a moment. “Alright,” she conceded and stirred a little more
in. “But that’s all.”
I would have liked more, but I wasn’t going
to push my luck.
Lesley
turned the spoon to me and urged me to eat up. By the time I had
eaten half the bowl, I was getting full.
It
wasn’t too bad with the sugar, but I still didn’t like
it
. I was eating slower and slower. When the bowl was two-thirds empty
I couldn’t make myself take another bite.
Lesley
set her coffee down. “Come, come, come, you promised to eat
it
all gone.”
“I can’t. I’m full. … Is there any
more coffee?”
“Not until you finish your breakfast. Now,
eat,” she said firmly.
I sullenly picked up the spoon again, but I
couldn’t bear the thought of one more mouthful. I dropped the
spoon into the bowl.
“Fine,”
Lesley
huffed. She picked up the spoon in one hand and took my chin in the
other. Before I had a chance to ask what she was doing,
Lesley
shoved the spoon in my mouth. Shocked nearly to the point of panic,
I swallowed and coughed. I opened my mouth to speak, only to have
it
filled with oatmeal again.
Lesley
’s pace was furious. Between her feeding me faster than I could
swallow and my struggling to avoid any more, my face and the
dishtowel were soon dotted oatmeal.
It
was over as quickly as
it
started. I stared down at the now empty bowl, trying to catch my
breath.
“Just look at you,”
Lesley
said with disgust. “
It
’s a good thing I put your bib on you. Now drink your milk … and
use two hands. I don’t want you making an even bigger mess.”
“Can’t I have some coffee now? I …”
Lesley
gave me a chilling look. I turned back to the milk. I may have
pouted as I picked
it
up … with both hands.
“That’s a good boy,” she said, taking
the bowl and spoon away. She rinsed them while I worked on the
overly large glass of milk. I didn’t dare stop drinking. I set the
empty glass down, gasping.
“There we go. All done,”
Lesley
said cheerily. The next thing I knew,
Lesley
was scrubbing my face vigorously with a damp cloth. “There. All
clean and shiny, with a full tummy, ready to face the new day.”
I blushed and considered muttering something.
Lesley
talked to me as if I were more four than forty. I got up feeling
terribly bloated.
“Can I have some coffee now?”
“Grammar, darling,”
Lesley
intoned. “
It
’s ‘
MAY
I have some coffee please, Mommy?’ Now, you try
it
.”
Trying not to clench my jaw in anger, I asked
again, “
MAY
I have some coffee now please … Mommy?”
“Watch your tone with me, young man,” she
said, wagging a finger at me. “And no, you may not have a cup of
coffee. You’ve been drinking far too much lately, and
it
makes you irritable.”
Irritable! I’ll give you irritable! I
thought. I was about to open my mouth when
Lesley
stuck her fingers inside the diaper. All I could do was stare at
her.
“Still dry? Good. Let’s see if we can
find you dome pants to go with your top.”
She turned away, expecting me to follow. I
stood there fuming. She had taken a few steps, not even considering
the possibility that I wouldn’t tag right along. Enough was
enough.
“I am NOT a baby,” I shouted. I blushed a
little, realizing I stamped my foot at the same time, but I
determined to hold my ground.
Lesley
turned, her eyebrow raised. Her gaze traveled up and down my body,
stopping briefly at my waist. She glanced over at the dish towel on
the table, eyeing the oatmeal stains. My eyes followed hers. I was
beginning to weaken.
“Oh, really?” she said, giving me a cold
hard stare. “Who had to be spoon-fed his breakfast this morning?
Who was such a messy eater he needed a bid? Who made a mess playing
with his
toys
in the bathtub?”
Lesley
came closer and closer with each question.
“But … but … but …” I wasn’t
holding so firm.
“And who,” she asked standing fight of
me, “woke up with wet pampers this morning, hmm?”
“But you made me wear them,” I whined.
“I didn’t make you wet them, did I?”
“No. But …”
“And why did I make you wear them?”
My resolve was almost gone now. “Be …
because I … wet myself,” I finally whispered, my head hanging
down.
“That’s right. And now I think you need a
time out to think about this little outburst.” She took my hand
and dragged me to the corner of the living room. “You can just
stand there for the next hour and think about whether that little
tantrum was worth
it
. And don’t you dare take you nose out of that corner.”
Lesley
gave a sharp swat to my padded bottom and left me to my thoughts.
There were certainly enough of them. I was mad that she was treating
me like a child. On the other hand, I had been acting like one. At
least,
it
could look that way. But how could I be expected to
act
grown up when I am running around in a diaper? And the spankings! I
hadn’t been spanked since I was ten. Now I was beginning to lose
count. Yet I couldn’t say that I didn’t deserve them.
These thoughts and more bounced around in my
head, battling
it
out for supremacy. I understood what
it
was to be of two minds. The clock slowly ticked. Another thought
entered my head. Not so much a thought, really, as a feeling. I had
been up for the better part of two hours now, and I had that big
glass of milk. That feeling pressed itself closer and closer to the
front of my thoughts as my bladder was sending signals of needing
relief. I was going to have to do something about
it
soon.
“Uh … Lesl … Mommy?” I said
tentatively. I knew she was in the room, I could hear the rustling
of her newspaper as she turned the pages.
“Aren’t you supposed to be thinking?”
“I … uh … have to go to the
bathroom.”
“Do you now? And you said you aren’t a
baby. Surely a big boy like you can hold
it
for one little hour. I think you should stay there and show me what
a big boy you are.”
“I let my head droop into the corner. There
wasn’t going to be any convincing her soon. I continued to
contemplate what had happened over the last couple of days. How had
things gotten to this point? Was my behavior that much worse than
usual?
It
didn’t seem so to me.
Lesley
had always been a force of nature, but what had turned her from my
beautiful sexy wife into a stern but loving mother? I had to admit
that she was loving … when she wasn’t punishing me.
It
felt good. More than that,
it
felt right somehow. I had never felt closer to
Lesley
than last night when she held me in her arms nursing me to sleep.
This was getting very weird.
The urgency in my bladder continued to grow,
making
it
difficult to come to grips with these strange feelings. I felt very
full, and I had to concentrate on holding
it
back. Clamping down on one particularly bad spasm, I broke wind. I
realized that I was soon going to have another problem.
“Mommy? … I have to go … really bad,”
I said, all but clenching my teeth.
“Not yet, Honey. Five more minutes. You can
make
it
. You’re a big boy. You said so yourself.” Her
voice
was sympathetic but resolute.
“But Mommy …” I pleaded.
“Five more minutes.” That was the end of
that.
Lesley
was bound and determined that the punishment would be carried
through for the whole hour. I knew from her tome that arguing would
only make matters worse.
I concentrated on proving I wasn’t a baby.
Five more minutes. Five more minutes.
It
’s not that long. You can make
it
.
It
’s no time at all. No problem.
But
it
was a problem. The contractions in my bladder were coming closer and
stronger. I was farting so frequently I was starting to
sound
like an engine, and gas wasn’t the only exhaust that would be
coming out the tailpipe soon. Lesley must be using the same clock
they use for
football
games
, because that last five minutes had to have lasted an hour in
themselves. By the end, I wasn’t even pretending not to do the
peepee dance.
“Alright, little man. I hope you thought
hard about the way you were acting. I don’t want anymore tantrums
out of you. You won’t be very happy if I see one again. Now
let’s go upstairs and take your diaper off so you can go potty.”
I would have run for the bathroom, but each
step was agony. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the worst
spasm yet sent me to my knees. Putting all my effort in to
staunching the flow, I forgot about my other problem. Along with the
fart a poop slipped out. Flabbergasted, I quickly shut down the back
door. My bladder took advantage of my momentary distraction to seek
relief. And relief
it
got. There was no stopping
it
now. I could only kneel there in disbelief.
As the flood became a trickle, I became aware
of
Lesley
by my side. Mortified, I looked up at her. She looked down at me
with a look that was part sympathy, part disappointment, and part
I-told-you-so. I was devastated. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I am a baby,” I wailed.
Lesley
knelt down beside me. “I know, Baby.
It
’s okay.
It
’s okay. Mommy will take care of you.”
Lesley
rubbed my back, as I sobbed. She cooed soothing things in my ear,
and I was soon settled down enough to listen to her.
“Okay, Honey. Let’s get you upstairs and
out of that wet diaper. I think you better crawl, I’m afraid of
what might happen if you stand up.”
I didn’t think. I just started crawling up
the stairs. The pendulous weight between my legs reminded me of my
shame. I dripped tears all the way to the bathroom. I was defeated.
I was a baby, a bad baby. I deserved to be treated like this.
Lesley
directed me to get in the tub. I stood up mechanically and stepped
in, feeling even more the weight of the sodden diaper and the load
it
bore. I stood motionless, as
Lesley
released the top tapes. The diaper slid off my hips and came to rest
between my ankles with a sickening plop.
Lesley
gasped. I thought I detected a giggle, as she spied the present I
left in the seat. I was too numb to care. I stood there and wept.
Lesley
hugged me gently and murmured reassurances. “
It
’s alright, Sweetie. All babies wet and make poopies in their
diapers. That’s what they’re there for.
It
’s okay.”
She lifted my feet out of the diaper, one at
a time. She dumped the poop in the toilet and discarded the soggy
garment. She had me hold the shirt out of the way while washed me
gently, all the time assuring me that Mommy would make
it
all better.
When I was clean again,
Lesley
guided me to the bedroom and onto the bed. Still stunned, I lay
still as she placed a fresh diaper beneath me. She rubbed pink
lotion into my
skin
, flowed by sweet-smelling baby powder. She hummed something
familiar by unrecognized, and she soon had the diaper taped securely
around my middle.
Lesley
gently instructed me to get under the covers, and she would be right
back. I meekly complied. I was mentally exhausted.
Lesley
returned and lay down next to me. I curled up into her arms.
“You just take a nap, Sweetheart. You’ve
had a busy morning.”
I was happy to obey. I drifted off, wondering
where she got the baby bottle that slipped between my lips.
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