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First Timer Jane the newlywed dialed her mother-in-law, Kathy. “Hi, Jane. How are you today?” “Good, good. Do you have a moment?” “Sure. Is Timmy okay?” She was anxious; she’d never even sent him away to camp, and now someone else owned him. “He’s fine,” Jane replied, looking through the living room to where Timmy was standing in the corner. “I’m having a little trouble with him and was hoping you could help me out.” “Of course. Whatever I can do.” Her son had been married to Jane for two, now almost three, days. It was a big transition for everyone but especially Tim, like it is for all men, and doubly so because he had only ever had one owner, his mom. When she gave him away, she knew Jane would do things a little differently than she had in rearing him to age twenty-three, but of course that was much easier for Kathy to understand than Timmy. “We’re having a little power struggle,” Jane reported. “Someone didn’t want to eat his vegetables because they’re not the way his mommy makes them, and that led to a tantrum, and now someone is waiting in the corner for a spanking.” “O my.” Kathy knew Jane was pro-spanking when she agreed to give her Timmy to her. Kathy was not pro-spanking. “Well, what can I do?” “Could you maybe have a little talk with him to reiterate things are different now and he needs to follow my directions?” “Um, I can. Won’t that undermine you?” She didn’t want to undermine Jane, and she didn’t want to participate in her son’s spanking in anyway. “No, I don’t want to force him if I don’t have to, and I think he’ll cooperate if he understands me being in charge means kn charge of everything. I know we’ve both had that talk with him several times, but one more time from you would help.” She drove hard a bargain on the dowry because, obviously, the best trained men didn’t need to be told that more than once. “But do you really have to spank him,” Kathy asked. She didn’t want her to. “Well, I definitely do now. I can’t go back on it the very first time I give him a punishment.” “No, I suppose not.” “And I may not in the future. We’ll just see how he responds to it. It doesn’t work on every man.” Though she knew it worked on the vast majority; she expected it would work very well on a man who needed it as much as Timmy did. “But since I told him he’s getting a spanking, I have to follow through.” “No, I agree,” Kathy said reluctantly. She hoped this would teach Jane to think twice before deciding on a spanking. “But I don’t want to scare him or traumatize the poor guy. I could force him, but I was hoping you’d have a little talk with him and maybe convince him to cooperate like a good boy.” Kathy didn’t respond for a moment. She was in a crummy position. She didn’t want her son spanked, but he wasn’t just her son anymore. Her son was married now, and she had to support her daughter-in-law. That would be best for Timmy in the long run. “Okay, I’ll do my best.” “Thank you. I’ll put you on speakerphone.” She did and walked to the living room, coming up behind her obstinate husband and taking him by the ear back to the sofa. “Ow ow ow,” Timmy whined. He was such a drama queen, but his ows only made Kathy more concerned. She swallowed it down. Sitting on the sofa with him, Jane said, “Your mother is on the phone and has something to say to you.” She said it calmly but firmly. Timmy was sure his mom would get him out of this. She’d gotten him out of lots of things. She didn’t even let the daycare teachers spank him, and they spanked everybody. “Timmy?” “Hi, Mom. Jane wants to spank me because I wouldn’t eat her vegetables and I like vegetables but yours are good and hers aren’t yours and I don’t get spanked tell her I don’t get spanked ... please?” Kathy listened to the rush of words and let him finish. “Timmy, remember what we talked about at your bachelor party before the wedding? Things are different at other people’s houses, and your Jane’s husband now. You live at her house now. You need to try different things and do as she tells you.” “But I don’t like her vegetables.” “Did you even try them? I bet she makes yummy vegetables.” “No ... but she says I need a spanking and I don’t and never have and don’t want one because everybody says they hurt and I don’t want one and people aren’t allowed to because you always said.” “Timmy .... Timmy,” Kathy cut in. “You need to listen to Jane. If she says you need a spanking, you need to be a good boy and let her spank you.” That was so hard for Kathy to say, but she thought of it like pulling off a band-aid. Her Timmy would not respond well to spanking, she was sure, and Jane would come around to Kathy’s way of disciplining Timmy. “But I don’t get spanked. I don’t. Other men get spanked. I never get spanked. You never spanked me. I don’t get spanked. That’s for other men...” “Timmy ... Timmy ... Timothy Edward! Things are different in different houses. I never spanked you, but now Jane is your wife. If she decides you need a spanking, you’re getting a spanking.” “But ...” “No. You’re ... you’re getting a spanking, Timmy.” Timmy sniffled. “But I don’t ... but you never spanked me, Mommy.” Jane silently chuckled at how the prospect of a red butt turned Kathy from ‘mom’ into ‘mommy.’ “I know, baby ... but Jane is your wife now and she’s in charge of you. You love Jane, don’t you?” “Yes (sniff).” “And she loves you. She knows what’s best for you now, like we talked about. You need to listen to her.” “(Sniff). Okay.” “Be a brave boy and cooperate. Will you do that for Jane and me?” “Yeah ... but just this once?” Kathy hoped so, but replied, “Whenever she says, Timmy. I’m going to go now.” “Can I call you after?” “You can call her tomorrow,” Jane answered. “Say bye bye.” “Bye bye. Love you, Mommy. (Sniff).” “I love you too, Timmy. You’re such a brave good boy. Night night.” Jane took the phone off speaker and left Timmy sitting on the couch, walking back into the kitchen. “Thank you, Kathy. I know that was very hard for you.” She didn’t respond right away. “I ... that was very hard ... (sniff) ... but learning to respect your authority is important. He’ll be better off for it.” “He will,” Jane agreed, and chose not to add that had Kathy spanked him growing up and let other women do the same when he needed it, he wouldn’t be at all confused over who was in charge. She needed to train the man, but she didn’t want to frighten him or be harsh, hence calling her mother-in-law to have that heart-to-heart talk rather than spanking him into submission. She wasn’t ruling that out but wanted to avoid it if possible. “I promise he will,” Jane added. “Thank you again for talking to him. You made this much easier for both of us ... well, I’ll call again after breakfast.” “Promise me you’ll be gentle with him?” Jane opened the cupboard door, on the back of which hung a paddle just like the one that hung in her mother’s cupboard. Many is the time she’d fetched the paddle and handed it to her mom, who would thank her as she took with her right hand while she held her father or whichever brother was in trouble with her left. Jane ran her finger down the edge, debating whether it was too harsh an introduction to spanking or if a harsh introduction is what Timmy needed to learn she was in charge and to want to avoid future spankings at all costs. “I promise. Thank you again. I’ll give him a kiss for you when it’s over.” “Thank you.” “Have a nice rest of the afternoon.” “You too.” Jane hung up and considered her choices again. Turning back to look into the living room, she saw Timmy quietly crying where she’d left him on the sofa. She turned back and took the paddle down, thinking she’d see how he responded to her hand first but intending to give him at least two with the paddle at the end to drive the point home. “Timothy,” she said as she stood over him. He looked up at her and then at the paddle, his eyes transfixed by it. She sighed and sat down next to him, placing the paddle behind her and rubbing his back. For a moment she thought he was going to collapse onto her shirt front, but he didn’t. “Timothy, look at me please.” He did. “I’m very glad you married me, and I love you very much. Do you believe that?” “Yes ... I love you too.” “Husbands live with their wives, and their wives are in charge like their moms were in charge before. Things are different here, like your mom and I have both said. Does that make sense?” “Yes.” “That means you need to do what I say when I say it, even if it’s different than it was at your mom’s house. Understand?” “Mhmm.” Jane sighed. Her brothers and her father all knew the proper way to respond; she’d worry about driving that lesson home later, but she did add, “Then you say, ‘Yes Ma’am, I understand.” “Yes Ma’am, I understand.” “When you don’t do what I say, that tells me you need a spanking. So because you didn’t do what I said, I’m going to spank your bottom. It’s going to hurt, and the next time I tell you do something, you’re going to remember that spankings hurt, and you’re going to do what I say.” At least, Jane thought, that’s the goal, but men never do fully grasp the lesson no matter how many times it’s taught, at least not in her experience. “Do you understand?” “Yes Ma’am, I understand.” “Stand up, please.” Timmy stood slowly. Jane reached out and took him by his belt, tugging him gently in front of her. As she undid his belt, she decided she’d be dressing him in things with elastic waists for a while, at least until their first anniversary - much easier to take down for a quick on-the-spot correction. “Keep your hands at your sides,” she told him as she pulled his pants down. She noted his pants were wet and sighed. “Step out.” He did, leaving him in his socks, tee shirt, and a pullup that had been dry fifteen minutes ago. Jane thought it was really great how Kathy put so much faith in her husband and two sons, but she was more of a realist. The changing table she told Timmy was just for bedtime and was only stocked with overnights had plenty of room for daytime diapers, which were stacked in the no-no room in the basement. That was next week’s transition. She tore the sides of the pullup away, and Timothy covered himself. Who teaches men to be modest, she thought. She liked Kathy, but just didn’t understand why she’d go to such lengths. She’d be moving Timmy to a new daycare if they couldn’t handle Timmy the way she knew he needed to be handled, a change she negotiated with Kathy without too much difficulty (she’s just too much of a softie, Jane reflected), but when she told the daycare she’d be transitioning him back to diapers and expected them to discipline him like they did the other men, the head teacher practically had a new spark in her eye. With their help, she knew Timmy would be much better behaved by his twenty-fifth birthday. She set the wet things aside. “I said hands at your sides,” she told him firmly. She knew you didn’t need to raise your voice at well trained men. Timmy slowly complied. One more thing to work on. She felt a little sorry for him. She saw men’s lack of modesty as one of the few things about being a man that seemed enjoyable, that sense of bodily abandon (if not freedom). She looked up at him. “It’s time for your spanking. I’m going to lay you over my knee and spank your bare bottom until I think you’ve learned your lesson, and then we’re going to snuggle until you’ve calmed down and talk about what you will do differently in the future, and then we’ll get you in your jammies, and you’ll finish your dinner. Then it’s an early bedtime. Understand?” He nodded. “Do you have any questions?” “Am I allowed to cry,” he said with tears already running down his cheeks. “Yes, sweetie, you’re allowed to cry all you want.” She guided him over her lap, and he meekly let her, just as she hoped the little talk with his mother would lead to. “Ready,” she asked, when she got him situated. “Is it over when I start crying,” he asked. “No, sweetie, it’s not over when you start crying. Try to hold still.” She took a firm hold of his hip with her left hand and raised her right.

It’s really okay (The Dialogues #4) Becky had gone in search of a project, and he was somewhere in the house. Ben was thirty-six and had been married to an unkind woman his mother had finally pried him back from, and Becky was intent on helping him become happy again. Six months into their marriage, he mostly was, an active, talkative, kind man who liked YA fiction and playing in his wading pool in equal measures. He was wonderfully behaved, having needed just one correction since their wedding when Becky found him getting things out from under the sink, which turned out to be a misunderstanding. Still, he remembered his first wife, and when he was afraid he was in trouble the happy man disappeared and the frightened, cowed husband came back out. He would stopped playing, stopped talking, and go hide. By late morning, as Becky was wiping down the kitchen and getting ready to start on lunch, she realized it was too quiet. She went in search of Ben and found him in the corner of his bedroom, nose in the corner. “Ben, you okay, buddy,” she asked, wondering what the wounded man was afraid he’d done wrong now. He didn’t respond or turn around. She approached him and reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and sniffled. She turned him around. “Why’ve you been crying, sweetie?” He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, but she always asked anyway, her effort to help him know it was okay to tell her what he was feeling even when he was afraid. He was holding her hairbrush, a habit she surmised stemmed from being told to go and get it whenever he was in trouble with his first wife. She told him so many times she wasn’t ever going to spank him with the brush, but he would often go and get it anyway. She cursed the woman silently and took it from his hand, putting it in her pocket. She took him by the hand and led him toward his nightstand, where she always made sure was a box of tissues. She plucked one and wiped his tears away, bent her knees a little to look him in the eye, and said to him, “We’ve talked about this, remember? You’re not in trouble, sweetie. You don’t need to bring me the brush or put yourself in timeout. Remember?” He nodded slowly, but avoided looking her in the eye. She grimaced and reached for another tissue, holding it to his nose. “Blow for me,” she said in the nicest voice she had. He responded well to that tone most of the time. He blew his nose. “Can you tell me what happened?” He didn’t answer. She looked around the room. A broken toy, a small mess, a spilled cup - these were the sorts of things he was certain he would be in trouble for, and as much as she would tell him it wasn’t a big deal, that he wasn’t in trouble, and that he should go play while she fixed it or cleaned it up, he stand there silently. Only when whatever it was had been fixed and they’d had some cuddle time would he come back out and go back to being his happy, chatty self. She didn’t see any mess, so she took his hand again, and walked him to the bathroom. He liked to play with his boats in the tub. But there was no mess in there. She looked in the hamper, but there was no mess in there. He’d been playing upstairs since breakfast. “Benny, is there something you want to show me?” He didn’t answer. “Even if I double pinky promise again that you’re not in trouble?” She sighed and straightened up, giving him a kiss on his forehead and a hug. Maybe Beth, her wife, would be able to coax it out of him. She was coming home to have lunch with them and had an especially good rapport with him. Becky would sit with him on the couch until then, putting on a superhero movie and trying to interest him in it. She had an epiphany as she passed his room with him in tow and stopped, stepped around him, and pulled out the back of his diaper. “Nope,” she said, and felt around to his front. “Lets go change those wet pants.” Taking his hand again, she started toward his room. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t follow. “C’mon, silly. Don’t you want dry pants?” He started to silently weep again. She thought he was over his fear of using his diapers. His first wife had insisted on catheters and enemas and treated accidents harshly. Becky, Beth, and his mother had done so much work to get him over his fear of using his diapers. “Benny, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s go get you into something dry.” He followed behind sheepishly. “Upsie Daisy,” she said and helped him onto his changing table. “Lie back.” He only cried harder. Becky looked around his bedroom for a binky, and not seeing one took his wrist and guided his thumb toward his mouth. She didn’t like thumb sucking, but was happy to let him if it would stop the tears and make him feel safe. “It’s okay, Benny, go ahead. It’s okay.” He accepted his thumb, and she went back to her task, getting out a wipe and a clean diaper. She dabbed at his tears again with the wipe, raising the pitch of her voice and and saying in the almost-melody that sent him to sleep each night, “There’s no need for those tears. You’re such a good boy. Such a good boy.” She untaped one side of the diaper, and he turned away, catching her by surprise. “Benny,” she said in the tone she reserved for her one-year-old niece, you silly man. You gotta hold still.” She reached for the other tape and he turned away. “Benny, why you being so silly? Huh? You gotta hold still for me. You gonna hold still and let me change your diapee?” He didn’t say anything but eased his hip back down, sucking hard on his thumb and looking away. “There we go. Dere we go! Hold still ...” She untaped and I opened the diaper. It wasn’t easy to see. If he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, she was sure she wouldn’t have noticed he’d cum in his diaper. She sighed. Different people had different opinions, but it never bothered her or Beth that men like Ben sometimes spontaneously ejaculated in their diapers. She was surprised Ben hadn’t yet; she assumed he had and she just hadn’t noticed, but seeing his reaction as she opened his diaper, his silent sobbing growing deeper, she realized this must’ve been the first time since their marriage and that his first wife had been one of those types. Becky and Beth had agreed when deciding to get him that baby talk would be kept to a minimum, reserved for scrapes knees, bedtime, and when he needed cheering up. They wanted to ween him off such babyish needs, but tears certainly fit within the exception, and Beth moved around to the side of the table so he could see her face smiling down at him. “Is dat all? Is that dat all you was afraid of?” She took his thumb away and gave him a kiss on his mouth, even parting her lips a little. “It’s okay,” she said, “it’s okay. That happens to men your age sometimes. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident, just like the other things you do in your pampers.” Like he had all the other times he thought he was in trouble, once she found what it was he’d done and told him it was okay and that he wasn’t in trouble, he tentatively smiled, as though until she discovered it, he wouldn’t believe her. “Aww. Dere’s a smile! Dere’s a smile! Ooo, such a good boy!” She looked down toward his feet. “I’m fact...” A devilish smile crossed her own face, and she reached for the rash cream under the table, applying it directly to his clitty. “Can you show Becky how you make a sticky cummy?” She wasn’t sure he actually knew how it happened and doubted he’d ever done it on purpose. She started to massage the head of his clitty between her thumb and forefinger, more than enough to manage his little stiffy. “Show Becky. Show Becky. Show me what a good boy you are ... What a cute clitty you have. Yes it is. Come on. Make a sticky cummy for Becky ... Come on ... Dere it is! Ooh, my! Yes, dere it is. Dat’s a good Benny. Such a good Benny.” His little load didn’t even shoot, just oozing out of his clitty and staying in the wet diaper open between his legs. She leaned down again and gave him another thorough kiss, not what she’d give Beth but appropriate for husband and wife. She smiled wide, beaming at him as she asked, “Do you believe me now? It’s okay for you to make cummies in your pampers. That’s what your adorable little clitty is for.” His smiled turned to confusion. “My what?” “Your clitty ... Your peepee ... Your peepee is also your clitty, honey.” She reached down and gave the soft thing between his legs a gently squeeze. “Same thing.” “Oh ... I’m really not in trouble?” “No, sweetie,” she chuckled, “you’re not in trouble. If you make cummies again, you don’t even have to tell us. Like we said, your pampers are our responsibility.” “Can ... can we do that again sometimes?” “Sometimes. I’ll even show you how to do it yourself, but you have to do it inside your pampers, okay?” “Okay.” She gave him another kiss, this time on his forehead, before wiping her hand and going about the diaper change. “You are such a sweet little guy ...Now,” she said as finished wiping him down, “let’s get your little clitty snug in some new pampers.” As she sealed the second tape, she heard the garage door. “Ooh, there’s Beth. She’s gonna be so happy to see you! ... All done!” She held out her hands and helped him sit up. “After lunch will you help me build a fort in the backyard,” she asked him. “Uhuh! Can I tell Beth about my clitty?” Becky laughed. “Tell her all about it!” She leaned forward and gave him a strong and meaningful hug. “She’ll be so proud of you, just like I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you, Becky. I love you.” “I love you, too, sweetie! Ah! There she is! Go tell her!” He hopped off the table and scurried out of the room faster than Becky could swat his little bottom. She chuckled as she cleaned up after the change. He was all man underneath his trauma, and she and Beth were so happy to help him come back out and see him find his happiness again.