I am not a little girl! (Really!) (Scene #214 posted 12/6/23)

[diaperboymi]

Awe...so sad for Dafy... but at least she now has Nana ?

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #91

 

         “You’ve been using again,” Mary accused me.

         “I have not. I just … ugh,” I said because I was dizzy.

         “You have. Where did you get it?”

         “I didn’t. I just don’t feel well.”

         “I can see that. I know what it looks like. We beat this, Daffy. Remember? We beat this habit. Now, tell me the truth: are you using again?”

         “I … yes. But only a little, Mary. Just a little. And it feels so good!”

         “It doesn’t matter. It’s too much. Look at you – you’re all flushed and dizzy.” She sighed. “I think we have to take you to the clinic.”

         “I don’t wanna go.”

         “I don’t want you to go, either, but I’m not sure they’ll call in a prescription without seeing you.”

         “Let’s call Dr. Murray.” My immunologist. She’d call in a prescription. She wouldn’t want me risking covid at urgent care for just an ear infection.

         “I’ll call. You go get the Q-tips you’re not supposed to buy and bring them down here.”

         Okay, so I have – had! – this bad habit of using Q-tips, which ironically make your ears itch more but feel so good! And if you’re prone to ear infections, sometimes using them gives you an ear infection, so Mary made me stop using them. It was a struggle (they feel so good!). It says right on the box not to put them in your ears. Must be the object most used for the thing you’re specifically not supposed to use them for. I get all jonesing for it for days after I stop using them, but it goes away and stops itching.

         I went and got them, was sorely tempted to stash a few for emergencies, but resisted and went back downstairs to find Mary on hold to talk to a nurse. She held out her hand and took the box. I sat down next to her.

         “Hi,” Mary said into her phone. “I’m hoping to get some antibiotics called in for my wife. She has an ear infection … No, she hasn’t been seen, but she gets them often enough to know, and I don’t want to take her to urgent care and be around people who might have covid … Her ear hurts, she’s dizzy …” Mary reached out and put the back of her hand to my forehead. “She’s running a temperature. Doesn’t feel too high … Thank you. We appreciate it … She’s fine otherwise. I’m keeping her close to home. We’ve been very careful … Thank you. You, too.”

         Mary hung up and pivoted her chair. “She’ll call back in an hour. In the meantime …” I saw where that was going and stood up and started pushing my pajama bottoms down to go over Mary’s lap. She stopped me.

         “Mmm-mmm,” she said. “I think you’re learning your lesson already. Besides, I don’t spank little girls when they’re sick.” Well, that’s just not true because times, but I didn’t feel like reliving the past right then.

         “I’m sorry.”

         “You look sorry. Come on.” She took my hand.

         “Where are we going?”

         “To put you back to bed.” We went upstairs, into our bedroom, and into the bathroom. “But a cool bath first will make you feel better. Arms up.”

         I put my arms up because Mary is a robber who’s always telling me to put my arms up and then steals my shirt. But at least she asks. She rarely asks when she steals my pants. She ran the tub while I stood there being naked, which is an activity even if most people don’t think it is. Mary put her hand in to test the temperature, and I stepped in. It was tepid at best. I wanted a hot bath (I always want a hot bath), but that would make me feel worse.

         “Lean forward,” Mary said, and I did and drew my knees up under me, put my arms around them, and rested my chin against them as Mary washed my back. “Of all the self-destructive habits you could have, this must be the most adorable in a silly way. Addicted to Q-tips ...”

         “I don’t always get ear infections.”

         “Nope, but often enough. You do know most adults almost never get an ear infection at all, right?”

         “Yeah.”

         “And you know what that makes you, right?”

         “I’m not a little girl,” I said weakly. “Ahh!” Ear infections are sneaky. It’s a dull ache, and then all of a sudden there’s a sharp pain for a couple seconds.

         “Such a silly girl. Does the water feel good?”

         “Mhmm, but it’s cold.”

         “Almost done. Arms up.”

         Ooo, soap and hands and soapy hands went all over the place. Too bad I didn’t feel good enough to really enjoy it. Mary was true to her word and started keeping a small pitcher under the sink for washing my hair. She filled it with fresh water. “I’ll be very careful,” she promised and poured just a little in my hair at a time, just enough to get it wet without getting my ear wet.

         She reached over to pull the plug, and I started to stand before she told me, “Sit.”

         “I’m not that dizzy.”

         “Are you not not dizzy? Then you can keep your bottom on the bottom of the tub.” She pulled a towel off the bar and waited until the water was gone. “So many goose bumps. Up we go.” She helped me stand, wrapped the towel around me, and steered me in front of the mirror. I stood still while she combed my hair. When she was done, she wrapped an arm around my belly, put her chin on my shoulder, gave me a kiss on the neck, and said, “I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” and gave me another kiss. “If you ever put one of those in your ear again …” She didn’t finish the sentence. Or she did, but with a couple of firm pats of the hairbrush to my betowelled butt, which she then un-betowelled and hung the towel back up.

         Back to the bedroom we went, where Mary pointed to the bed. I sat and watched her get a cloth diaper out of the closet and some of those plastic panties. “Lay back, Daffy. We have a brand new rule to discuss.”

         “Do I get to discuss it,” I asked. Because not all of our discussions about rules involve discussing.

         “Not really. Lift.” I lifted, and she situated. “If you’re sick, you’re in diapers.”

         “O.” She sprinkled powder on my parts. Whenever she does that, she always gets a little on my tummy. I think she does that on purpose. She likes to rub it in. I like it when she rubs it in, but then I just like tummy rubs. And I swear I’m not a golden retriever. Really.

         “You want jammies,” she asked.

         “No.”

         “You won’t be too cold?”

         “Mmm-mmm.” I swear I’m not pathetic when I’m sick. I’m just monosyllabic sometimes when I’m sick.

         “Under the covers with you then.” She lifted the covers, and I slid in, then she slid in behind me.

         “Don’t you have to work,” I asked her.

         “Yeah.”

         “You should probably go do that then.”

         “Such a bossy pants for someone wearing diapers.”

         “I can be bossy in anything … when you let me.” I sure wish she’d let me be bossy more.

         “You can be the boss of pants piddling whenever you’re in a diaper.”

         “Marrry! Be nice to me. I’m ahhh! (sniff).”

         “Getting worse?”

         “Mhmm.”

         “Aren’t natural consequences the worst?”

         “Yes. Mary?”

         “Mhmm?”

         “This sucks.” Me and my stupid addictions.. Sugar, Q-tips, peanut butter. The only good addiction is Mary.

         “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

         “Thanks for taking care of me.”

         “You’re very welcome. I like taking care of you.”

[Sarah Penguin]

[kerry]

I don't know if I've ever said this or anything like it before, but...

I am not into spanking (though it does turn me on in a completely theoretical way) but I'd gladly endure it to be Daphne. I just love both her and Mary.

?

[diaperboymi]

Poor Daffy ?

[Guilend]

I get ear infections a lot. But after so many sometimes I don't notice I have one and when I finally do it's just annoying for the most part. Besides those sharp pain moments I don't even notice it. 

[Bel George]

Nice to hear from Nana again. Too bad scene # 90 just ended when she arrived.
I remember that Nana often innocently manages to make Daffy feel like a little one.  Like when she makes a piece of clothing, as she used to do for her own grandchildren when they were "also" still small.
Wouldn't Nana be a good nanny if Mary had to go away while Daffy is sick?

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #92

        

I’ll admit Mary was onto something when she looked at me hopping out of bed in the morning and called me a happy Daffy. And why? Because Springtime! I used to say fall was my favorite season, and last year during quarantine I realized it was spring. Might’ve had something to do with being outside during the day for the first time since I started working, but spring, I realized, is awesome.

It’s even better this year because the end of the pandemic is in sight and I have my garden to play in. It really is kinda awesome that you can plant a bulb in the fall and get a flower in the spring. Tulips! And of course, daffodils. Shoot, I’m so giddy I kinda wanna get a little sunburned, just a smidge, to kick off the season.

Now, there’s also some sadness as Brenna isn’t having her annual pool party, but last year that event seriously did not go in my favor. Things were done to me. But I have a surprise for Mary, whose office is on the first floor, which makes it o so fun to knock on her window. “Can you come out and play,” I asked.

She swiveled in her chair and gave me one of those aww-isn’t-she-cute looks she’s always giving me. She opened the window, and said, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I got a surprise for you.”

“I got a call in four minutes, but …”

“It’s a pool!” So I might not be good at holding in surprises. “I bought a pool.”

“You … better not have.” She looked confused.

“It’s inflatable, silly. They sold out last year, so I ordered one at Christmas time. It just got here.”

“Where’s it gonna go?”

“It’ll fit on the patio. Just a place to cool off when it gets hot … and maybe a place to get bizzay when things get hot?”

“Did you really just say ‘get bizzay’?” If anyone can bring back that phrase, it’s me, so she can shhh!

“I … may have. Also, you need to spank me later.”

“Why?”

“The spending limit rule. I broke it like, seven … no, nine times.”

“On a kiddie pool!”

“No; on landscaping, but I told you proactively, so I get in less trouble.”

“Daphne Ann!”

“You’re late for your call.”

“You’re in for it after work. Just you … wait til I get home, I suppose.”

Ha! Mary’s flustered! Let her be the flustered one for once. Not that I’m ever flustered because I’m not, and also, it’s springtime! Perhaps I’ve been a little cooped up. Which is not the same as being a little who has been cooped up so don’t even with your wordplay that you’re not even as good at as me.

Said landscaping had, mostly, not arrived, but according to the internet, the beds must be prepared for planting, so I got to work on doing that. I tore out dead stuff, cleaned out leaves, turned over dirt, found what may have been a snake hole and put a rock on top of it, and got all the potted plants from out of the garage and arrayed them on our porch in the sunshine. Either they’re potted plants that dormant, or they’re just pots full of dirt and remains of dead plants.

I don’t know what Mary was doing. Earning money for me to spend, I suppose. I know a thing or two about shareholder capitalism, and I think getting the money without doing the work makes me the boss, but I don’t think I should say so.

And dirt! It feels good to get on your knees in the dirt and work it with your hands. So much better than the sanitized reality I’ve been living in all winter. I’m going to make broccoli come right out of the ground. How is that not so much cooler than anything else? But for the time being, I just made piles of yard waste I needed to dispose of the next day. I was content with my day’s work and laid down on the grass, still a little wet, as the sun went down and just enjoyed the coolness. Sigh … springtime, renewal, all that poetic crap.

“You’re filthy,” was what my darling spouse had to say to me from above.

“I’m showing the evidence of my labor,” I countered.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She held out both her hands and helped me to my feet, and once I was on my feet, she assaulted me!

Okay, overly dramatic, but ,“Ow! What was that for?” She goes smacking my butt without stating the reason like she doesn’t know I’m the boss or something. “Ow!”

“I’m just brushing the dirt off you.”

“Ow! Marrry! I’m not a rug.”

“You’re right, we should get a carpet beater.”

“Har har.” And giving me little kisses on my cheek like I’m not the boss. Who does she even think she is? Besides my Mary, I mean.

“You really are dirty,” she laughed. “Your whole back is wet. Are you my little piggy playing in the mud?”

“You take that back or we aren’t friends anymore.” I am not a little piggy. Not. I will submit to being compared to a silly goose, whatever that a silly goose even looks like or however they act. All the gooses I’ve ever met have been super serious with the honking and the hissing if you get too close.

“Aww,” Mary said without apologizing for implying I’m a little piggy. “C’mon. Inside, into the tub, and then it’s dinner time.” She steered me toward the back door and stopped on the patio. “Shoes.” I got my dirty shoes off. “Socks.” I got my dirty socks off. “Shorts, undies, and shirt.”

“Har har again, Mary.”

“No joking. You’re dirty.”

“I think I can make it to the laundry room without making a mess.” (Fuck yeah main floor laundry! Woohoo!)

“But why risk it?” Smiling like she’s having fun at my expense. Nyahh!

“Because we’re outside.” Like, duh. I’m being manic, not an exhibitionist.

“It’s dark.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Need me to undress you,” she asked when I gave her the stink eye.

“Ugh, fine.” She held out her hand as I turned over the remainder of my apparel like it was contraband. Did I mention it had gotten chilly?

“In you go,” Mary said as she held the door open for me. I got past her when she exclaimed, “Hi, Mae!”

“Eep!” Warp speed out of sight I went.

“Hahahaha! Look at you go when you’re motivated.”

“Not funny!”

“Said princess pouty face.”

“Why are you in such a goofy mood all of a sudden?”

“Because my workday is over and I have a pretty little girl to wash.”

Well, good reasons, but, “I’m not a little girl!”

“It’s even cuter when you say that with the little dirt smudge on your face. Like you played all day with the other littles.”

“You … (foot stomp) … urghrrrr! I am not a little!”

“Tots adorbs, Daffy. Bathroom.” Nobody even says ‘tots adorbs’ anymore. “Ah ah ah,” she said. “Dirty little girls can use the downstairs bath.” I made a sharo left into the downstairs bath with Mary hot on my heels. She’s always being hot on my something. You think she has the hots for me or something?

She turned on the tap and stopped the drain, then turned and gave me a look I haven’t classified yet. She’s always coming out with new looks like (and the seasons are changing, and she could totally be a model for, like, an Eddie Bauer catalogue). “Um, what,” I asked. Probably be worth pausing just to note that I was standing there naked and dirty, and she was standing there clothes and clean, and I was about to get a bath she would be participating in, and none of that was registering that as out of the ordinary. Interesting path we’ve trod here to get to this point, but here we are.

“Exactly how much did you spend,” she asked.

“Um, well, tax adds nine percent.”

“Nine percent of what?”

“Six hundred dollars, give or take,” I said as though I had nothing to fear, because I don’t. I’m the boss. I can dip into petty cash as needed. I certainly didn’t say it sheepishly.

“Six hun…” Ooo, look, flaring nostrils … that’s never good. “You … such a naughty girl.”

“I’ll work it off.”

“O yeah, how?”

“Yard work. Ouch.” Such quick hands for someone who works at a computer all day. A little carpal tunnel would be good for my butt.

“I think you just bought yourself a whole lot of doing the dishes.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Excuse me! Privileged much?”

“Not privileged! I mean, yes, privileged, but also hungry and something smells good.”

“I made lasagna. Can we focus, please?”

“Aww, you made lasagna because it takes a while to cook and now you can take your time with the bath.”

“Focus.” I am too good at focusing! Just … springtime … and nudity … and a hot bath … and I was hungry.

“Sorry. Dishes, got it.”

“How much sugar did you have today?”

“Just what was in the gatorade … six of them. Ya know, I’m outta shape, now that you mention it.” She leaned over and shut the water off.

“Lots of dishes, and you’re getting your bottom spanked.” She sat down on the lid of the toilet, yoinked me over her knee, and rested her hand on my butt, drumming her fingers. “Played in the yard all day, all dirty, over my knee in the bathroom about to get her bare bottom spanked, and then is gonna get a bath. Tell me again you’re not a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl! And I’m only over your knee and getting a bath because …” Dammit.

“Why? Use your words.”

“Because you said.”

“Mhmm. Because I’m in charge. Know who’s not in charge? Little girls.”

“But ...I’m a shareholder!” Hmm. Awkward pause.

“… Daphne, serious question: did you put something in the gatorade?”

“No … it makes sense if you listen to the things I don’t say.” And she so doesn’t listen because I’ve told her that before. I lead a rich inner life with a fast-paced, 30-Rock kinda inner monologue. I’m not random. Other people are just too linear.

“I honestly don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

“You have a knack for figuring it out.”

“If you’re enjoying this, I can take my belt off.” Yeah, not so much a fan of the belt. Like, at all.

“No! I mean … I know I did wrong and I’m ready for my consequence.” Been a while since I said that. We got less formal about these things over the years. I mean, when we switched from scenes to lifestyle and, “Ow! OW!! Mary! You’re gonna sprain a finger! Warmup! Warmup!”

“It’s a punishment, Daphne Ann. You don’t get a warmup.”

“Eeep!”

“You’d better eep! Six hundred … did you lose your gosh dang mind this morning or something?” for the record, I’m the one from Wisconsin with the whole Midwest nice stereotype and not once in my entire life has I uttered the phrase gosh dang.

“I ordered it on Sunday. OWW!!! Mary, that hurts!”

“It’s supposed to hurt, little girl. It’s a spanking.”

O yeah. I forget sometimes.

“Are you gonna behave?” SPANK!

“Yes!”

“Good! (SMACK!) Up you get.”

I was back on my feet and rubbing my butt before she could change her mind. I felt like I’d gotten away with something. Six hundred bucks (okay, more like seven) when the limit is one hundred? “Um, is that all?”

“Do you need more?”

“No,” I meeped.

“Then that’s all. In you go.” Mary and her directions; up I went and in I got.

“Aich,” I exclaimed when my reddened butt made contact with the hot bath water. That’s a fun feeling, as is the non-slip texture at the bottom of bathtubs on a freshly spanked butt. Unless she really lets me have it, in which case it would not be fun at all except in the ways it’s still kinda fun.

I reached for the soap expecting and receiving, “I got that,” from my Mary.

“I can do it myself,” I reminded her.

“Of course you can,” Mary said-smirked at me as she took my soap after she sat down on the …

“Where did that come from?”

“What?”

“The stool you’re sitting on.” Um, duh?

“Amazon.”

“I mean why’d you buy it.”

“Because it hurts my knees giving you a bath kneeling on the floor. Lean forward.”

“I’m sorry about the money.”

“You can consider four hundred of it a gift.”

“Why? Was there something else you were gonna get me? … Asking for my friend.”

“Tell your friend no, and remind her how lucky she is she didn’t get six hundred dollars’ worth of spanking.”

“Mary, sometimes I don’t you think you listen. See, I got a spanking. My friend didn’t.” Out of the tub, that would for sure earn me a pop in the butt. In the tub? Heeheeheehee.

“Tell me the truth: so you like getting baths from me?”

“Mhmm.” Who wouldn’t? Hot water? Check. Mary’s soapy hands? Check. Those hands rubbing all over me? Ooo. You better believe that’s a check.

“I like giving my little girl baths.”

“I’m not a little girl! I’m a noble sovereign being bathed by her handmaid. You are still a maiden, right?”

“Such a little girl. A literary one.”

“We can check your maidenhead later.” Because I’m nobility I get to decree things like that.

“Do I need to remind you who the domme is, or are you done sassing me?” Because I’m nobility I get to the decree things like that when Mary lets me.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just remember some words are not nice for little girls to say.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“Then I guess you don’t get your present. Lean back. Time to get your front.” Know what’s better than slippery, soapy hands on your back? Slippery, soapy hands on your front. Do not doubt. I know things. That’s what I do: I spend Mary’s money, and I know things (and if that doesn’t sound like a shareholder, you ain’t hearing from enough shareholders).

Also, “So you did get me something. You fibbed … by omission.”

“I got you something when I saw you playing in the yard.” She filled a cup I hadn’t noticed with water. “If you’re gonna be in a pool, you’er gonna have to wear water wings and swim diapers.” Close your eyes.”

         “Marry! That’s pbbbbttt (sputter; cough). Urgh!”

         “You’re supposed to close your mouth when you close your eyes, sweetie.” Sitting on her stool looking so friggin’ delighted with herself. “You’re gonna look so cute.”

         “You didn’t!”

         “I so did.”

         “Marrrry!”

         “It’s just until I take the pictures.”

         “Pictures!?!”

         “No splashing.”

         “I’m not splashing! I’m pouting!”

         “It’s not an every time thing. Just when …”

         “Just when you wanna mistreat me. Hmmmph!”

         “If you’re gonna be like, I’ll just hafta send back your other present.”

         “Go right ahead … whuddya get me?” Okay, so I like presents. Most of the time.

         “A swing,” Mary said with that happy-fun tone she uses with our nephew.

         “Um,” I said all clever like, “you mean like a sex swing?”

         Mary’s hand stopped what it was doing (washing my hair; sigh …) and she leaned over to look me right in the eye. “You are the dirtiest little girl I think I’ve ever met.”

         “Maybe that’s because I’m. Not. A. Little. Girl!” I’m just a thirty-one-year-old with an overwhelming urge to physically express my love for my wife.

         “I got a swing-swing, for the tree. Two, actually. One porch swing to sit in together, and one swing to push you in so you can make cute little squees as you go higher.”

         “Aww. Thank you. … Um, can we return one?”

         “But I wanna sit with you under our tree. Eyes closed.” Someone of a more paranoid streak than me might suspect her timing of the rinse was strategically placed to shut me up. Luckily swinging, I’ve since googled, is good exercise. “Aww, someone looks like a wet puppy. Up you get.” Her and her directions. Up I got and out I went.

         She dried me off in a towel that’s only stayed so fluffy because it’s in the downstairs bath and no one showers in it. I couldn’t help but notice she was seeming a little amorous, what with the putting her left arm around my belly and right hand grabbing a butt cheek (clarification: mine) and her lips nibbling at my neck as she steered me in front of the mirror.

         “Admit it,” I said as my knees wobbled. “You’re in love with me.”

         “Every day, Daffy. I think I loved you before I even met you.” Oof. Feels. Like the feeling of her lips kissing my all up and down my bare neck. “Will you hold still for me while I comb your pretty red hair?”

         I would so do anything for her. Holding still is easy. She reached around me to open the medicine cabinet. “Where’d all this come from?” It’s a downstairs bathroom, and we live upstairs. We bathe en suite, like fancy people. We don’t keep toiletries in the downstairs bath.

         “I thought we agreed we’d use this tub more.”

         “O yeah. I just forgot you could it’s for baths, too.” Because I suggested we use it for … drinking wine and playing Battleship. Um, yeah, that’s a waterproof game with a nautical theme. And we do have that torpedo in the toychest …

         “Mmm, my silly goose, all sparkly clean. Mwuh!” Heehee! She was being all kissy and lovey dovey.

         “Mary?”

         “Yeah, baby?”

         “Thanks for taking care of me today.”

         “I love taking care of you, Daffy.” She sighed at me. Sigh … She gave me a pop on the butt. Such a fun sensation through a wet towel, which she unwrapped.

         “Someone looks cold all of a sudden. I got your jammies in the living room. Go get your diaper basket out and wait for me. She gave me another butt smack before I could get out of butt smacking range. I could feel the adrenaline (and maybe also sugar) of springtime happiness fading now that I was cleaned and ready for a hot and heavy dinner (also, we were having lasagna).

         I almost forgot to say, “I hate the diapers, Mary,” on my way to the living room.

         “I know, sweetie, but you’ll wear them until you learn,” my darling spouse called after me.

         “Marrry!” Learn what? That Mary is in charge and I’ll wear what she says or else? Because learned it. Top of the class. May not seem that way with my tendency to try to get out of it, but was I not practically skipping down the hall with springtime mirth to do as I was told? After all, I’m a good rule follower.

         “Good girl,” Mary said to me when she found me on the floor next to the basket and sitting on the blanket she’d presumably put down just for me. “Lay back for me.” I did and felt even more tired. Not ready-for-bed tired, but definitely ready-to-be-snuggled tired. And did you hear what my wife called me? Heehee! Not that I’m bragging, but my wife thinks I’m a good girl. Sigh …

         We went through the motions, and Mary pronounced me pretty as a picture. I doubt especially like footie pajamas, but I gotta admit, after a day outside and after a bath and when the temperature drops and the window is open, shudder with the fuzzy-warm feelings. I let out another sigh (sigh …).

         “You gonna make it through dinner before you pass out on me?” O, so she, too, was anticipating me passing out on her? Maybe she meant it another way, but in her lap was my intent.

         “Uh-huh,” I yawned.

         “You were bouncing off the walls a half-hour ago. Such a silly goose.”

         “Mhmm.”

         “Daffy …” She sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into her. “How you feeling today with everything? Still okay?”

         “Mhmm.”

         “Anything you wanna talk about? You really doing okay?”

         “Yeah. I promise.”

         “Okay.” She kissed my temple. “You just tell me if you need to talk. Anytime.” The timer on the oven beeped, and we went to the kitchen where Mary pulled this beautiful lasagna out of the oven. Lasagna is a lot of work, with the prep and layers. Even if it is just for two people. And it looked so yummy!

         “Let’s let it cool for ten minutes. What salad dressing do you want? … Daffy?” She was only saying that cause I didn’t answer her. And because my lip started quivering again. And I don’t even know why! Or I did, sorta.

         “You made me dinner (sniffle; choke) And you were working all day and you still made dinner (sob; choke; sob).” I’m … not pathetic. It’s not pathetic. It’s just the little things. The little things, and grief, and being tired. And maybe – just maybe – a sugar crash. Maybe. And grief. For lots of reasons. Grandma was … just the latest reason.

I held out my arms, knowing I could fall forward and Mary would catch me in the tightest, warmest hug. Which she did, cause she loves me and stuff.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Alex Bridges]

9 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

??

[Alex Bridges]

Hi hi.

Recognizing how incredibly typo laden many of my posts are (I can be a great author who posts frequently or a great editor who never finishes a story) I go back over my work and repost in other places when I find the time. It also gives me a chance to go back and fix continuity errors and stuff I decided I didn't like after I posted it.

Mostly that means my Patreon, where I also post a lot of content I don't post here (tends to be more sexual in nature, or audio stories), but I know some people don't like to subscribe to stuff.

SO I MADE A KINDLE VERSION OF I'M NOT A LITTLE GIRL!!! ???

I'm releasing it in volumes so I can edit/revise in pieces and also because it makes the book more affordable. You may not have realized, but I'm Not A Little Girl is almost 1,000 pages in standard book format. Yikes(!) on the printing costs because there will be a paperback version (and Volume 1 is currently under review by Amazon).

So, I have a favor to ask: could you please go to the Amazon page (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08Y84SH6Z) and leave a good review if you like the book? You can leave reviews under a fake name. Reviews are the #1 way to help authors get noticed because - and don't let this shock you - not everyone comes to DailyDiapers for their erotica. (I know, weird, right?)

Anyhoo, I appreciate it, and there will be more Mary and Daphne to come this week.

Many thanks.

[Galdamax]

My account is not eligible to leave a review will try again at some point soon

[Alex Bridges]

1 hour ago, Galdamax said:

My account is not eligible to leave a review will try again at some point soon

If you’re a new(ish) Amazon member, you can leave reviews until you’ve made enough purchases to establish you’re not a bot.

And thank you ?

[Bel George]

6 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

SO I MADE A KINDLE VERSION OF I'M NOT A LITTLE GIRL!!! ???

I'm releasing it in volumes so I can edit/revise in pieces

I left a review on Amazon.  I just hope that "(vol 1 of 6)" doesn't mean the story is going to end soon?

On 3/7/2021 at 3:11 AM, Alex Bridges said:

“If you’re gonna be in a pool, you’er gonna have to wear water wings and swim diapers.”

Won't Daphne feel very small, and a little embarrassed, if an unexpected visitor shows up while she's in the pool? And would she realize that swim diapers are primarily intended for no. 2?

[Alex Bridges]

10 hours ago, Bel George said:

I left a review on Amazon.  I just hope that "(vol 1 of 6)" doesn't mean the story is going to end soon?

Won't Daphne feel very small, and a little embarrassed, if an unexpected visitor shows up while she's in the pool? And would she realize that swim diapers are primarily intended for no. 2?

I think Daphne’s story will be wrapping up in the next two months.

But that doesn’t mean her adventures are over.

I have plans for two short stories (around 10 chapters each), want to work on a new volume of done adulting, and I think some INLG stories will appear here and there. I want to do a shorter book on their dating years, and I want to pick up their story again from where I plan on stopping it.

[Alex Bridges]

Sorry for no update this week. Just a very hard week.

If it makes you feel any better, I’m neglecting much more important responsibilities ☹️

[Sarah Penguin]

4 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

Sorry for no update this week. Just a very hard week.

If it makes you feel any better, I’m neglecting much more important responsibilities ☹️

hugs

[diaperboymi]

I hope things are ok for you.   I'll know you'll get to this when you can.   Thanks for the Amazing story!!!!!

[Alex Bridges]

In the meantime, I commissioned this from Rosie-BRS. You can find her work on Deviant Art and Patreon.

 

[Alex Bridges]

So, I have a favor to ask: could you please go to the Amazon page (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08Y84SH6Z) and leave a good review if you like the book? You can leave reviews under a fake name. Reviews are the #1 way to help authors get noticed because - and don't let this shock you - not everyone comes to DailyDiapers for their erotica. (I know, weird, right?)

____________________

Scene #93

 

“You seem a little eager for the real warm weather to get here,” Nana said to me.

“What makes you say that,” I said knowing exactly what made her say that. My outfit: I had on my one-piece, a pair of shorts, and a pair of old sneaker (ironically not made for sneaking) to work outside in my garden, which Nana very generously offered to help me with. “I just wanna get some sun.” Also, my one-piece fetish, but Nana doesn’t need to know about that. I mean, seriously, like she needs to know about all our business? She’s got enough to try to process, and a girl needs a little mystery in her life.

“You gotta go deeper than that, honey. Here,” Nana said and showed me how deep to make a hole for planting my rhododendron.

“You better dig those holes right,” my darling spouse said from her position on the veranda (patio) reclined on a throne (chaise lounges from Target) drinking for her golden goblet (cup from some place that gave away souvenir cups; I don’t remember where and the dishwasher long ago peeled the label off; we are so fucking classy).

“She’s doing fine,” Nana told her royal pbbbbt!

“She used to hate yard work,” Mary said.

“It’s different when it’s your own yard, and it’s not yard work. Sweaty men and paid laborers do yard work. This is gardening.” Which is what ladies of leisure such as myself do between juleps on the veranda.

“Wanna tell Nana what happened the last time you complained yard work?”

“No, I do not, and you don’t either if you wanna go to bed with someone who likes you tonight,” I haughtily replied. Is ladies of leisure are allowed to be haughty. Or so I hoped.

That’s when Nana chimed in with, “I could use a cold drink.” She pointed a pointed look toward Mary, and I don’t think I’d ever seen such a thing, but Mary stood up, said, “I’ll make some lemonade,” and went inside to do it.

I mean, sure, if I ask for something, she’ll do it, but I’ve thrown Mary plenty of pointed looks. Not so much with the producing of result, much less just declaring a desire and seeing it appear (except sometimes cuz Mary loves me like you wouldn’t believe). Pointed looks just seem to tell Mary what to do or say next to get my goat (which is a strange phrase; did someone get their goat got?), and declarations of wants usually end up with me going to do a thing. Which is right and proper given our respective roles. I like getting things for Mary. But it’s still fun to see someone else just say something and watch Mary hop to.

“When she comes back, tell some jewelry would hit the spot,” I suggested.

“You guys doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Just yeah? That’s not your usual lovey-dovey answer.”

“She’s been taking good care of me. I just … same. Same thing that always bothers me. Am I taking good care of her?”

“I’m sure you are. Besides, didn’t you tell me letting her take care of you is how you take care of her?”

“Yeah. Maybe been letting her do that a little too much.” Ya know what would be cool? If I could make up my damn mind. “I mean, she’s just getting more and more into doting on me, and I don’t want it to get out of hand … if it hasn’t already.” And why would I think that? O why, o why would I think that?

“Do you ever talk about that stuff?”

“Yeah, occasionally.” Most often after I’ve bottled up emotions and let them come pouring outta me in an explosion of misgivings and hurt feelings, at which point Mary paddles me until I’m a hot mess and makes me tell her what’s bothering me while reminding me this whole thing coulda been avoided if I had been up front with her in the first place.

Which, yes, but in my defense, feelings are hard! It’s not easy talking about this stuff, and it’s not easy saying no to Mary when pleasing Mary is, on the whole, the thing I like most. Add in me not working, and it’s kinda my whole raison d'être right now unless you count consuming my weight in added sugar. Remember balance, as in before the pandemic? A lot of things were out of balance, but a lot of things were in.

And the thing is, I don’t know if I wanna go back to school after all. I don’t really miss working as much as I did a few months ago, and with Mary’s promotion we’re really not hurting for the money. Her last raise was pretty much what I’d be making as a first-year teacher (which, holy crap, is a whole ‘nother social issues rant to be had, but it can wait). But I can’t keep living like this! Another year, and I’ll be in diapers 24/7 because that’s what you do with people who have taken leave of their senses and live in rubber rooms. And I look fat in a straitjacket (true story).

“Maybe,” Nana logically suggested, “you should have a talk with Mary.”

“Yeah. I know,” I said as I placed my plant in the hole. What is dirt made of anyway?

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bringing up a touchy subject.”

“It’s not touchy. It’s just … sensitive.”

“Let’s talk about something else. Did you get an appoint for a vaccine yet?”

“Nope, and let’s not talk about that because I’m just gonna scream at the sky if we go down that road.”

“Poor thing. You really are having a rough few weeks. Wanna come over tomorrow and do something fun?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Lemonade,” Mary said from the patio. “I made it fresh from a powdered mix.”

“Took you long enough,” I said because bratting is more fun that serious conversations.

“Daphne Ann, you are gonna bite off more than you chew today. I a smell a spanking coming.”

“Marrry, don’t say stuff like that in front of Nana.” I stood up and dusted myself off.

“I was thinking the same thing with a sass mouth like that,” Nana said before dusting me off some more.

“I am so overparented,” I grumbled. Like there was any way the day wouldn’t end with Mary wanting to give me a bath and put one of those stupid diapers on me. Yes, I like being bathed, but a little moderation keeps things interesting, mainly by stopping them from getting boring, and Mary had definitely been going the route of using bath time to dress me in cutesy little girl things for the evening (or entire day). Remember the punishment panties? I need to bring those back into my life (and fuck my life given that’s what it’s come to).

But nope, no way am I on a collision course with an emotional catastrofuck that ends with me bawling over Mary’s knee. Nope. No way … Really. Please?

[diaperboymi]

I just gave you a 5 star Amazon review.  One of my all time Favorite stories.  Thank you sooo much for writing this wonderful story. 

[Alex Bridges]

22 minutes ago, diaperboymi said:

I just gave you a 5 star Amazon review.  One of my all time Favorite stories.  Thank you sooo much for writing this wonderful story. 

Thank you for being awesome!

[Sarah Penguin]

You are a little girl who writes many good words.

[Alex Bridges]

Sorry for the lack of an update this weekend. I was under the weather. I’m working on a new chapter for this week.

In the meantime, the edited de-typoed Volume 2 is available on Amazon 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZNQXWDM

[Alex Bridges]

Sorry for the lack of an update this weekend. I was under the weather. I’m working on a new chapter for this week.

In the meantime, the edited de-typoed Volume 2 is available on Amazon 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08ZNQXWDM