Alex Bridges Posted January 7, 2022 Author Share Posted January 7, 2022 Scene #150 “I love you always, forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Every sin, I will do for you I love you always, forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Every sin, I will do for you “Say you'll love me forever Never stop, never whatever Near and far and always and everywhere and every Say you'll love me forever Never stop, never whatever Near and far and always and everywhere and every Say you'll love me forever Never stop, never whatever Near and far and always and everywhere and every Say you'll love me forever Never stop, never whatever Near and far and always and everywhere and every-gahh! … Hi.” “Hi,” my wife who sneaks up on me (or just walks into the room while I have my headphones on and my back turned) said to me. “Whatcha doin’?” “Sing-cleaning.” “I remember it wasn’t that long ago that hardly a cleaning day passed without me having to spank your bottom to motivate you.” That’s a true thing, is what it is. It not that my views on cleaning have changed all that much. They’ve just evolved. Or they stayed the same and I evolved. “I was still working then. Work all week and spend half a Saturday cleaning when I could’ve been not cleaning? Easy math, Mary.” I’m good at math. True story. “And now you enjoy cleaning?” “No. I just don’t mind it as much. Or maybe I do enjoy it cuz it’s something to do and makes the house nice.” And since we’re spending two full weeks in a post-travel quarantine, not like I don’t have time or like I’m not spending all of it at home. I won’t even talk to Nana over the fence. I know I say she’s not old, but COVID doesn’t know that. “So who were you singing about?” “Was I singing too loud?” “No. So who was it about?” “Who?” “About some you love always forever? Someone whose love you need?” Mary? Flirt? She’s ways past that. “O … It’s no one you know.” Me? Flirt? I’m way past that. Really. “So you have a crush on someone, is that it,” Mary the Apex Predator said as she sashayed those hips of hers in my direction. All I had to defend myself was a swiffer, my French Foreign Legion training, and my petite self. One of those things is not like the others, but everyone fudges their résumé (I confess – it was an off-brand swiffer). “I can have crushes,” I defended my right to have crushes. Someone has to defend my rights. If I didn’t do it, I’d hafta behave all the time. Blech! “Is it a boy crush?” “Yuck. Do you know what’s between their legs? I mean, good for them and all, but keep it tucked away from me.” Never did like them. Kinda like raw tomato. People still say to me, ‘You’ve just never had a good tomato,’ and I say, ‘I’m sure some of the many people who tried to get me eat tomato had a good one, but I just don’t like tomatoes.’ Not a value judgment. Just more of a … peach person. And not that I’m an expert, but every time I see an eggplant emoji, I just wanna tell the person who posted it to stop flattering themselves. At best, they have a robust parsnip (and I don’t like parsnip either). “So it’s a girl crush,” the lioness of the house asked me with this little tinge of threat in her voice like she me do stuff to me … and things too.” “Well, you backed me into a corner … literally.” Cuz in the French Foreign Legion they taught us the safest place to be when confronted by your dominant is in the corner … where you can’t run. It was just a weekend training course, but how weird. In retrospect, might have been a kink retreat with some pre-Mary friends. I do remember getting tossed around a bit and ordered to do this and that and French something. “Did I,” she asked all innocently (which she is not!) as she put a hand on each wall, trapping me in between. “Eep.” “You’d better eep. Who’s this crush?” “I don’t hafta tell you.” “O really?” “Yeah. And anyway, you wouldn’t know her. She lives in Canada. Met her at Niagara Falls. Ya know, the one with all the water?” “You know when the house gets cleaner, you get dirtier?” “Literally or figuratively?” Agree with literally. Don’t really see the connection figuratively. “It’s like you’re my little dust bunny.” “Hee. Should I get the tail out of the toy chest when I’m done?” “But who’s it for? Me or your secret crush?” “You’re … tall. When you stand there like that … looming over me and being all … tall.” Said the bunny to the she-lion, all sleek and muscled and stuff. “Who’s your crush? Don’t think I won’t tickle you til it comes out.” Wait, specifically til what comes out? “Okay. I’ll tell you. You ready?” Cuz I had to make sure she was ready. “Yeah.” “You’re sure?” Cuz I had to make sure she was sure. “Yeah.” “Cuz once I tell you …” Just giving her a last chance to back out. “Gonna count to one…” “It’s Sara. This woman who used to babysit me and spent the day with me while we were in Wisconsin. She taught me to ice skate and she let me have sugary cereal for breakfast and she’s sooo pretty!” She’s looking at me funny again. “Guh! Put me down!” “No!” “But yes.” “No.” “But yes, is the thing.” Ooo, we’re sitting on the couch. Or Mary was; I was sitting on Mary. Sigh… “What a coincidence, cuz I babysat the cutest little girl.” “She wasn’t little. She was a middle at her very smolest.” “How would you know?” “Rumor and innuendo.” “What have I told you about gossiping?” “Um,” I said all sexy and stuff and put my finger right in the middle of Mary’s chest and just, ya know, traced a little switchback on down. “I forget. You’re gonna hafta teach me again.” “Maybe if we video record it this time you’ll remember in the future. We could even share it with some friends so they don’t make the same mistakes you have. There could be a whole video series on proper behavior for good girls like you.” “Like me?” “Mhmm. Good, smol. Girls who want to be be good so bad, but sometimes just can’t help their little selves.” “And sometimes we can just put the video on like during dinner? Or on long car rides? … Or on my virtual reality headset. Hell yes!” So worth the spanking I got for that. “So smol, so horny.” Wow, just summing me up like that. Seen. “Can I ask what you liked so much about this Sara character?” “Um …” Yeah, sorta been actively avoiding that topic in my head. “I can tell you a few things, but a girl’s gotta have secrets too.” See, they don’t teach the let-them-down-gently-by-being-cute method in business school. Not that I ever went to business school. And if I had, people would’ve said, “There goes Daphne. Don’t know why she’s in business school when she’s already so dynamic and is the best synergy creator ever.” Yep, that’s a thing people woulda said. “I suppose I can let you keep a few secrets.” “Well, um, she roleplayed. Not that you and I don’t … And not that I’m comparing her to you cuz that would just be so meta. But roleplay is fun even when you’re lifestyle.” “Enjoyed mixing it up?” “Yeah.” “You’re blushing.” “I’m always this color when you’re in the room.” Really. “So what else?” “She … tried very hard to make me not feel about embarrassed about embarrassing stuff, in a way that was super embarrassing.” “Like what?” “Nope. Don’t wanna say.” “Aw, you can tell me. Is about still need spankings to help you make good choices? Or is about your problem,” she whispered. “Cuz you don’t hafta to be embarrassed about either of those. I mean, you shouldn’t go around telling anyone because they’d probably make fun of you and call you names like Spanky, but you don’t hafta to be embarrassed … though you probably should also.” Gah! Buttons! “Sorta like that.” “Are you sleepy all of a sudden? Is that why you laid your pretty face on my chest?” “And she made me feel awesome cuz she taught me to do something I didn’t think I could. Not that that can be an everyday thing.” “Nope, but sometimes you do need a little touch-up lesson. Like after your bath, I could teach you how to comb your hair so it’s not sticking up all over the place,” she said as ran her fingers through my hair (which was sticking up all over the place). “I knew I was gonna clean and decided to shower after.” “O, I thought dust bunnies always have messy hair.” “So question. Should you be at work?” “I had a meeting, and since I’m the boss I rescheduled it cuz I wanted to come find out who my person was singing about.” O my god heck heccin yes! I’m Mary’s person! She just said so! Eeeeeeee! “Can I confess something,” I asked the person whose person I am. “Mhmm.” “You sure?” Just making sure. Wouldn’t wanna traumatize the person whose person I am. “Tell me.” Hey! She pinched my butt! “It was all a ruse. I was singing about you.” “Aww, you love me always forever?” “Mhmm.” “Near and far closer together.” “Mhmm.” “Is that why you’re unbuttoning my shirt?” “Mhmm.” “You be gentle when you find what you’re looking for. Any teeth, and I’m gonna hafta spank you bottom. Ouch!” “Heeheeheehee.” I bit my person whose person is me, and I’m not sorry. “Naughty girl … Why’d you stop?” “Ahem.” Did you know if your head is in someone’s shirt, you can feel them roll their eyes? True story. Really. “(Sigh…) Fine, you’re a good girl … Hhhh! A very good girl.” O my god! The person whose person I am thinks I’m a very good girl! She is sooo my person! My person who totally followed up on the warning about biting. Sigh … getting smacked hard on the butt while a grown woman tells me ‘we do not bite.’ That really takes me back. And she is such a hypocrite cuz this one time at band camp she … O yeah, not supposed to gossip either. Dammit … 9 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 12, 2022 Author Share Posted January 12, 2022 Scene #151 “Leemee lone. I wun sleep.” “Daphne, it’s time to get up for church. Come on. Up you get,” Her Holiness prodded me. “I’m tired.” “We went to bed on time, and literally all you have to do it roll over and watch on the iPad.” She oversimplifies everything. I’d have to roll over, sit up, and pay attention to the iPad. That’s a rule – pay attention in church. If you don’t, you get taken down to the cloak room in the basement for a spanking, or at least you used to pre-pandemic. We don’t want to be in that crowd yet every Sunday, and church is a lot less fun without the singing. We tried singing along to the iPad, but without a couple hundred other parishioners to drown us out, we have to listen to ourselves … and we suck. Really. And I actually like church, but I just wasn’t feeling it. But church attendance is a rule; oddly more of a rule in our house than the actual church, which is (you’ll be shocked to learn this given our lifestyle) very non-conformist and free-spirited and full of weird people (at least two of whom are super gay). Lucky for me there are exceptions to the church rule. It was too late to tell Mary I was out of town, so that left, “But I don’t feel good.” “Are you not feeling well, or do you just not want to go to church?” “Just put the iPad on my back and I’ll listen with my eyes closed.” See? I am a peacemaker, a problem solver, a resolver of differences. Who knows? I might have even heard the sermon in my dreams. Wouldn’t be the first time I encountered Pastor Sara in Dreamland. Just don’t call her ‘the hot pastor’ in front of Mary cuz you’ll get a long lecture about respect, and halfway through your timeout, so I’m told, you’ll realize you’re not sure if she’s being serious or if she’s just taking the excuse to put you in timeout. The Grand Inquisitor repeated herself. “Are you not feeling well, or do you just not want to go to church?” Moment of truth. Literally. “… Not feeling well.” My face was buried in the covers, but I could feel Mary making her o-really face at the back of my head. “O really,” she said to the back of my head. She really telegraphs her thinking sometimes “Then we’ll have to see what can be done to make you feel better.” Funny how I was suddenly awake and alert and ready to run far, far away. If only someone or something could’ve warned me she’d see through my mistruth and call me on it. Something like experience or deduction or even, heck, an aversion to fibbing could’ve warned me (I said I was tired, dammit, and I don’t think so good when I’m tired). But perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps I could backpedal, misdirect, or stall. “No,” I tried to insist, “You go to church, and I’ll be fine.” “Daphne Ann, of course I wouldn’t leave you all by your lonesome when you don’t feel well. Let’s just get to the bottom of this, and maybe we’ll make the afternoon service if you’re feeling better.” I wonder if today’s sermon is about how hurtful sarcasm is. How fitting would that be. Or the consequences of fibbing. “Um … no thanks. It’s one of those things you just gotta ride out … in bed … alone.” “You sound awfully alert now.” “But it’s taking all my strength. Um, so why don’t we just plan on me doing the afternoon service if I’m feeling up to it?” “Because Pastor Mike does the afternoon service, and you dislike how boring he is even more than you dislike being tired. Or are you not being truthful?” Wow, that was kinda direct to the point of not being nice. “Are we back on that again (cough)? … (cough hack sniff) (re-cough-eally) … Your mistrusting expression isn’t making me feel any better.” Hey stupid, my better angel said. She’s a sassy angel. Yeah, you, the stupid one. Stop digging the hole deeper. And maybe next time don’t dig any hole at all or at least dig better, less transparent ones. She’s very blunt and judgmental for an angel. “O dear, am I making it worse? That’s just not good. Let’s deal with this right now.” “No,” I said as she walked away from me. “No please,” I said as she went into the bathroom. “No pretty please,” I said as she … she couldn’t hear me, not that I think it would’ve made a difference. O crud, she’s coming back. And where did that bag come from? “I wanna go to church now.” “You can’t, sweetie. You don’t feel well.” “I feel better. It’s a miracle, and that’s what church is all about. See, I’ll even stand up.” Which I did. Look at me, head to toes all standing and healthy and pious. Church please, and step on it. “Not until we make sure you’re okay. Lay back down.” “I’m sorry?” I mean, might as well try to apologize, even if just to get out of what mean thing she was gonna do to me while pretending to be sweet as summer rain. “For being sick? You don’t ever have to be sorry for being sick.” “I didn’t say I’m sick. I just said I didn’t feel well. Can we please …” Did you know Mary can cut you off in mid-sentence with just a look? For instance, her too-late-I’m-gonna-teach-you-a-lesson-and-you’re-gonna-cooperate-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you look. And then you shudder a little you make a barely audible sound as you mouth opens again and turns her head sharply to glare at you with her make-my-day-say-one-more-word eyes. Eep. Which is when my better angel said, Best to just lay back down now. It’s funny, I don’t hear much from my worse angel, and sometimes I think that’s cuz I’m my own worse angel. “Poor, poor girl. We’ll get to the bare bottom of this.” So that’s why some people would rather not know what their diagnosis is. Huh. “Mary,” I said from flat on my back while she was in the closet getting stuff, “I’m trying to backpedal here.” “Bicycling is no good for sick little girls.” “So that’s a no on the backpedaling?” “It’s a no,” she told me as she returned with – guess what!?! – diaper changing supplies. “What’s in that bag?” “O look,” was her response as she took notice of the pacifier she keeps on my nightstand, right next to the paddle she calls mine but is really hers. “Open up … Good girl. Keep this in, sweetie. Pacifiers keep little girls from crying; why, I bet if if it comes out before I tell you it’s safe you’ll end up crying very hard.” Threatening subtext, that. “Lift your hips.” If I could pray for anything, I’d pray for X-ray vision. It’s not entirely unheard of for Mary to just produce from thin air (or under the sink) things with which to mistreat me (see, for example, pull-ups). When she went into the bathroom, I feared she was getting the enema kit ready, not that I’m ever afeared of anything, but the mystery of the mystery bag was just sitting there next to me being all Orwellian like it could contain anything. “You’re becoming quite the experienced diaper wearer.” What the heck does that mean? “I’d call you a Class A Diaper Girl if I didn’t know how much you hate being that.” Aw come on! Now you’re just trying to get me to spit the pacifier out. “Just a few taps of my hand, and we can do a whole diaper change without even speaking.” O yeah? Prove it and stop speaking. Smack. Oof! That part of me is not for smacking, even lightly … except sometimes it is. “When you say you don’t feel good, is it because of potty problems? Does it hurt when you tinkle?” It was then that I heard a voice from the heavens, and it sounded exactly like David Attenborough: Note the tone of the taller and more dominant of the two females lacks the mischief characteristic of its mating ritual and ceremonial displays of dominance. The less dominant female, our old friend Red, must have noticed this, or surely, she’d have taken out her pacifier to answer back. She rarely lets a slight against her honor go unanswered. Instead, she merely shakes her head no and side-eyes the newcomer on the scene, the faux-leather bag. Someone should tell Dave that the friggin pacifier is not mine. “And I don’t see any diaper rash or even a sign of diaper rash. Must be because I take very good care of you.” Cue Dave: Those of you who have followed this bonded pair since the beginning of our series know that when Athena – so named by you, the viewers, because of her powerful aura and hardass physique – says something sarcastic without a hint of sarcasm in her tone, as she just did, she’s very likely growing more bloody ticked off by the moment. You’ll also note Red, who actually seems to be getting ever so slightly smaller during this confrontation, appears conflicted. It looks as though she wants very badly to point out that she doesn’t wear diapers often enough to get a diaper rash, that the possibility would be exactly zero if Athena didn’t make her wear them, and that anyway, the diapers not even hers. At the same time, she is experiencing a nascent but rapidly growing sense of regret at the mere mention of how well Athena cares for her as it becomes clear Athena is no longer playing along, a sure hint that something besides her decision to try to weasel out of church is at issue. “Turn over.” And guess who? Dave, that’s who: Showing signs of trepidation, Red slowly turns to her tummy, keeping an eye on her alpha until the last possible moment, knowing how vulnerable she is in this position: face down, bottom exposed. She looks intently at the bag again, clenching and unclenching her little fists as she watches Athena reach for it, seemingly in slow motion to her, but to the rest of us, with the surety and relentlessness of a freight train. It is too much for the younger female, who takes a calculated risk by flipping back over onto her back, letting the pacifier fall from her lips, unironically making her uwu face, and bleating out the high-pitched noises even casual viewers must surely recognize by now as her vocal expression of sincerest regret. “I’m sorry I’m sorry what’s in the bag and I’m sorry and I won’t do it again!” Ol’ Davey boy heard from: Nature, we must remember, may be pitiable, but it is not pathetic. Actually, Red is quite brave, stalwart, and true; always honest, never bratty, and mighty not just for a female of her size but relative to the species as a whole. What she lacks in making better choices the first time, she more than makes up for in always being prepared to cave, sometimes without even putting up the show of a fight. And also she’s really put off by the mystery bag. Really. More to the immediate point, she feels awful for what’s she done and wishes to make amends and seek forgiveness because she doesn’t take Athena being upset with her very well. Like, at all. True story. And me: O my god! Shut up, Dave! There’s only room for one narrator, and it’s heccin not you! Mary (who looks a little like Athena; I could totally see that and maybe for next Halloween), looked at me with a rather cross expression. It was more than a little unsettling how quickly she went from not buying my BS but going along with it to teach me a lesson to seeming actually upset with me. She was taking deep breaths through her nose. She’s gotten well and truly pissed at me just a handful of times, and while she’s never raised her voice at me (hard limit!), she’s had to try not to before, and she always took deep breaths through her nose. And it she went from A to B awfully sudden like. “Daphne Ann, I am … Sit up. Right next to me. Last week I sat right in this spot and watched you sleep. For three days, I did everything I could to take care of you and make you feel better because you really didn’t feel well. And it …” Not so much of the verge of yelling at me now as on the verge or crying. O god, don’t cry cuz I’m gonna cry so much harder. “I was trying to teach this lesson in a little more fun way, but … It’s not funny, okay? Don’t you ever fib to me about not feeling good again. It … Don’t.” “Mary … I’m so sorry. I didn’t think … I’m … sorry.” Ever feel so ashamed of how you made someone else feel intentionally or not, that you wanna throw up? Me too. “I know. I don’t mean to … be so serious. It just … It’s scary. It’s not … I knew you were just trying to get out of … It’s still scary.” “I didn’t think about it that way.” “I know you didn’t. I just …” Speechless Mary. I mean, this is the same woman who is rarely at a loss for words, the same one who has so many words that she just loves to continue whatever she’s saying even after I’ve interrupted her with points that are very on point. “I won’t do it again.” “I know you won’t.” Which is when I hugged Mary very hard cuz she needed a very hard hug (and so did I). We stayed liked for a few minutes, and I was nervous to say it, but I plucked up my courage and asked, “Will you go to church with me? We only missed a little.” “I’d like that very much. I have half a mind to ground you to this bed for the rest of the day after.” Ugh. “That’s … fair.” “But then I don’t get to spend the day with you. Your punishment is being grounded to my side all day.” O gawd my feels! “(Suppressed crying noises).” “(Also suppressed crying noises).” I needed more than that though. “May I please have a bedtime spanking tonight?” “Of course, sweetie.” “With the bathbrush?” I hate that thing so much, but it does have its uses, like reducing me to a limp, sobbing, sweaty mess that needs to be helped up and showered off. Not that I’m a crybaby. Really. “No.” “But …” “You didn’t mean to. I like you too much to use the bathbrush just because you feel guilty. We’ll get those feelings out, and we’ll both have a good cry with just my hand, okay?” “Okay.” “And after church you need to try to use the potty for anything you don’t want to do in your diaper. I want my baby girl glued to my hip all day.” “Okay … What’s in that bag?” “I’ll show you this weekend if I don’t have to give any bad girl spankings.” And let’s not question how what’s in that bag can can make me apologize like a rapid apologizer person and inspire me to be my bestest self at the same time. That’s just one of the burdens of being kinky me. 12 Link to comment
kerry Posted January 12, 2022 Share Posted January 12, 2022 18 hours ago, Alex Bridges said: Your punishment is being grounded to my side all day. Awwww! 1 Link to comment
AndTheChips Posted January 13, 2022 Share Posted January 13, 2022 Hey Alex, I just really wanted to say THANK YOU for this story. Like genuinely, seriously thank you. Not just because it’s a lot of fun, which it is, or because it made me embrace being bisexual, which it did help me do, or that it made me believe in genuine loving partnerships for real, which it did, or because it made the pandemic feel less lonely, which it did as well, or because it inspired me to write more, which it did, but for all of that and also because It might sound silly or weird, but in the midst of a family crisis that is bringing up depression, anxiety, and ptsd for me, I saw that you had a new chapter up and it was the first thing all day that made me feel okay and managed to get me out of my spiral. So don’t let anyone ever tell you that what you do is trivial or kink shame ya or anything, because your story and characters and their love actually really has meant a lot to me. 1 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 13, 2022 Author Share Posted January 13, 2022 54 minutes ago, AndTheChips said: Hey Alex, I just really wanted to say THANK YOU for this story. Like genuinely, seriously thank you. Not just because it’s a lot of fun, which it is, or because it made me embrace being bisexual, which it did help me do, or that it made me believe in genuine loving partnerships for real, which it did, or because it made the pandemic feel less lonely, which it did as well, or because it inspired me to write more, which it did, but for all of that and also because It might sound silly or weird, but in the midst of a family crisis that is bringing up depression, anxiety, and ptsd for me, I saw that you had a new chapter up and it was the first thing all day that made me feel okay and managed to get me out of my spiral. So don’t let anyone ever tell you that what you do is trivial or kink shame ya or anything, because your story and characters and their love actually really has meant a lot to me. This makes me so very happy to hear. I’m glad the story has had such a positive influence on your life. 9 hours ago, kerry said: Awwww! I know! ??? Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 18, 2022 Author Share Posted January 18, 2022 Scene #152 There’s something weird about being me (besides me). It’s a catch-22: the things I like most and the things I dislike most are different and the same and often on the same day. Like that little black bag. Mary was going to use its contents to discipline me for my less than honest truth, but also to reward me for being a good girl? And there’s nothing contradictory about that at all. It’s official: BDSM has evolved past the language, cuz there are no words to describe that. And Mary, bless her heart, didn’t exactly not try to bait me into trouble. I exercised some damn restraint! Mercy, forbearance, charity – these are but a drop of water in the comprehension ocean of my superlative qualities. Anyway, I put up with all sorts of slights against my honor just to learn what was in that bag under circumstances a little more favorable to me. No defenseless maiden am I. Really. ______________________ Backsided Compliments I’m very industrious, which I know is hard to see sometimes because one of my industry’s main products is streaming 90s tv shows, but it’s true. I’m industrious, and I’m fit. And being fit requires making certain sacrifices. I didn’t want to believe that at first, and I tried very hard not to, but you can’t argue with your pants. O sure, you can live in denial like when my Mary said, “All that peanut butter is gonna catch up with you one day,” and I said “I deny that,” but your pants don’t care what you think. Faced with the prospect of eating less sugar or doing more to earn it, I resumed running. I won’t call it a hobby so much as fuck-this-fucking-I-hate-this-every-damn-second-and-screw-everything-ever,’ so named after words I’ve been known to mutter while doing it. Really. “What happened to you,” my Mary who likes me but has a funny way of showing it asked me when I came in from one such perambulation. “I slipped,” I said with no mirth whatsoever in my tone. Where was my mirth? What little of it I took with me I left in muddy spot I had to detour through because of sidewalk repair. When you’re running down the pass and you fall down on your ass, mud gets everywhere. “Are you okay? Did you bonk anything?” “No. I wanna shower and then I’m eating a cupcake.” I heccin earned it! “Come,” Mary said as she closed her tablet with the fake clicking noise they make when you lock them (something more satisfying about the thuddy slap of a hardcover book being closed, but o well; the past is the past). “Where?” “A little girl as dirty as you needs help getting clean.” “I just wanna shower.” Showers take five minutes, ten if you slipped again trying to stand up, did a barrel roll, and ended up face down in said mud. Which I’m not ashamed to say is a thing that happened cuz it was the mud’s fault, not mine. A shower meant I could be savoring (snarfing like a snarfosaurus rex) my cupcake in as little as fifteen minutes. Then I’d probably have a snack or two. “Nope,” the tall, handsy lady I live with said as she took my wrist and led me toward our downstairs bathroom. “Urgh. Fine.” Worse things than being bathed by a beautiful woman. I followed her down the hall, pausing in front of the laundry closet, where she stripped me nude. “Sorry,” I said as she peeled my muddy leggings down. “Little girls who say sorry are so cute.” “I’m not a little girl. See?” As in see what you uncovered? All woman. “I see it every day, sweetie.” I don’t even know what that was supposed to mean, but I had this general sense it was her way of saying seeing it doesn’t change her opinion of my big I am. A giantess, actually; that’s me. Fighting lions, taming shrews (they bite!), and raiding tombs and such. “Daphne,” my Mary said to me mere minutes as she was washing my hair, “do you remember when we talked about taking care of your body now that you’re becoming a woman?” Did I say ‘my Mary?’ Cuz she’s not; don’t even like her. Like her? I meant never even met her. “I think a little someone could use a spa day.” “O, please no,” I didn’t whine. “You know I don’t like doing that.” “But it does a much better job than shaving and lasts longer. Don’t you wanna not have to shave for longer?” “Yes, but … it hurts.” “I know.” Wait, what? She knows and makes me do it anyway? Is there anything else she does knowing it hurts me? Sure hope not. Really. “But … okay.” “Excuse me?” “I said okay. Fine. But if any tears come out, you’re making it all better.” Not that I ever cry during a wax down below, but also sometimes yes. At least it’s an at-home spa, so to speak. And it is one of those things I like after the fact; and at least it’s a quick fact. “Hands and knees.” Maybe I’m too accustomed to just doing what she says cuz I did it and thought nothing of it until … “Make sure you’re clean everywhere…” “Wait, what HEY!” “Everywhere,” she repeated after she’d already gotten everywhere but kept ‘em spread for a couple more passes. “Ev-er-ee-where!” “Omneepatotter frauherhoferen shneedle!” “Little girls say such nonsense, even little girls who do a good job wiping … most of the time.” “Fnurl nut, Mary!” But did I say or do anything beyond sputter in indignation? Did I correct her insult against my rectitude (cuz it’s every damn time, dammit! I’m a good wiper all the time and … kind of a low moment having to defend against that charge). But I didn’t splash. I may have pouted. But I didn’t splash or name call or tantrum or bite (all of which would’ve been justified). Good for me. I guess? _______________________________________ Verbal baiting. Soooo much verbal baiting. Such as: “You’re the only person I know who has a diaper bulge when they’re not even wearing pants.” “I’m small framed!” “I know what size you are. I’m the one who buys your diapers, remember? Size small cuz you’re smol, aren’t you?” “(Warning cat hiss).” Or how about: “C’mon, Daphne! Show that diaper who’s boss!” “Mary, I swear to god …” “You can do it! Daffy Daffy, she’s our girl; if she can’t do it, it’s probably cuz she’s so little.” “(Angry bear noises).” And this gem: “Hop up on the bed.” “Seriously? It’s the third day in a row.” “Such a good counter.” “(Fed up rhino grunts).” And if she follows through on this, I’m making her move out. I mean, I’d go with her, but it would be a whole thing: “We have four bedrooms, and two of them are unused,” she observed. “One of them is unused,” I pointed out. “The other one is where we keep our junk.” Among other places; how do people acquire so much junk. For sure ours has a lot to do with compulsive kink purchases, but that’s no more than a third … maybe half of it. “So,” Mary continued cuz she loves to continue, “we could put a nursery in the other one and still not really have to move or rearrange anything.” “Harhar. You’re so funny. NOT!” Which was such a clever thing of me to say. NOT! “We could get a rocking chair. You could sit in my lap and just rock back and forth.” “Well, that … can go in the living room.” I like that idea. Wonder what it be like if she wore this harness things that attaches to a … anyhoo. “We could make a little space for you to play with your toys.” “Like my Xbox? With a big TV? Ooo, or a projector.” I mean, I know she wasn’t serious, but I could try. “And a changing table.” “How ‘bout not,” I suggested because reasons. “Diapering you on the bed and the floor isn’t so easy on my back.” “I have a solution to that – stop diapering me.” “But you’re too little to do it yourself,” she said and continued right over my protest noises cuz my Mary loves to continue even more after she’s already continued. When I do that, I get a warning about what happens when I test boundaries, which is exactly what Mary was doing – searching for the boundary right before I’d lose my patience and earn myself a spanking. “And I wouldn’t mind moving your diaper pail in there. You know, that thing where we put your used diapers? It’s like a waist basket but bigger, to fit you diapers? And it has an inner and outer lid, to hold in the scent of your used diapers.” I took deep breaths. My mom taught me that: when you’re about to blow your stack, take deep breaths. I ignored just about all of that and replied, “That thing was so unnecessary.” “Maybe you think so, kiddo. If you can’t tell when you’re pottying in your diapers, I guess I’m not surprised you can’t smell your peepee diapies.” “(Elephant rampage noises).” But did I cross the line and earn and elephantine spanking? I did not. _______________________________________ Like I Wasn’t Even There Right into the living room she came, and I thought for a second she was talking to me which would’ve been really weird since she said, “Hello?” “Um, hi?” And then I figured out she had one of her earbuds in. I use mine when I go running or work in the garden now that I’m officially retired, but Mary uses hers mostly for work calls. For some reason that makes no sense, it irritates me when she wears it outside the confines of her office. Makes zero sense. Like, does it matter if she’s using that or just holding her phone? Nope, but just … anyway, onto the conversation she conversed. “So good to talk to you in person,” Mary said to … someone. She sat down on the love seat where she could cast conspicuous glances at me. She’s always being conspicuous when she’s not being inconspicuous, devil demon that she is (and don’t tell me that doesn’t make any sense; I get enough of that at home). “I thought it would be easier to talk details instead of texting back and forth.” I knew it wasn’t a work call. She rarely has those outside her office, and when she does, she usually walks back into her office. “I’m glad to hear that. We really liked meeting Ann too. She seems so sweet” Who’s Ann? “Did she tell you she folded her pants and carried them over to us? It was so cute … I offered to play with her, but she told me she needed your permission. You have her very well trained. How long have you two been together? … Ooo, so practically still in the puppy love stage. We’re coming up on nine years together, and we’re still in that stage … Ha! I know, right?” Ann who folds pants … and brings them over to us? … The woman from the dungeon club! That was like two months ago! When did Mary even exchange info with her? “She said she switches … Uh-huh. Does she have a role she likes best? … I thought so. She just has that energy. What’s her play age?” And me, just sitting on the couch deeply interested in this conversation I wasn’t a part of, wondering what Mary was up to and knowing at the mention of ‘play age’ that it would end up involving me somehow. Mary would never play with another woman without my being there. Less a BDSM thing and more of a marriage thing, not that Mary seems to want to play with others without me (I think she’s fond of me or something?). If she really did want to play with someone else, I’d let her. I mean, not like I’d get jealous or anything. For the most part. Zero track record of me getting jealous. Really. And as for me playing with others, Mary loves it. Just the thought of me being disciplined by others like some naughty neighborhood kid back in the 1950s just gets her all titillated. Weirdo. “Daphne,” she said while casting one of those glances my way, as if my ears didn’t perk up at the very sound of the first consonant of my name being spoken by the coyote I married, well known as mythology’s trickster. “Well, she doesn’t exactly have a play age. She’s actually really adamant about not being labeled … No, she’ll agree we like ageplay, but she tantrums if you call her a little … Ha! Yeah, that’s exactly the sorta thing a little would do.” It is heccin not! Don’t fence me in with your labels and stereotypes, Mary. But I just made my irritable face at her. Totally not fair that her irritable face has so much more of an effect on me than mine does on her. Just because she’s the domme she thinks I should respond to nonverbal cues if I know what’s good for me. Totally unfair that I actually did learn that. “She doesn’t wear them twenty-four-seven … She doesn’t want to. Her big girl undie time is very important to her … I’m not sure either. Doesn’t make her seem any bigger to me, and anyway, some weeks I keep her diapered more than others. She’s sitting next to me right now with the little plastic wings sticking up over her pants and giving me the dirtiest look.” Heck heccin yeah I am giving you a dirty look! Whither under my gaze … please? Or at least look away while I tuck those in and stop reading anything into it cuz you made me! “She doesn’t like them at all, so she says … It started for us as domestic discipline, a little diaper punishment to go with the other consequences and preventions she gets. They do a good job keeping her out of trouble … I’m not sure exactly, but she’s just sweeter when she’s padded. She even follows me around more, my little shadow.” “I follow you around all the time.” I like her and stuff. And if I do follow her around more when she’s making me wear the stupid things, it’s only because … reasons. Mysterious reasons that I don’t understand but surely do not have any deeper meaning about my personality or should be construed as liking the stupid things. “Quiet, honey. I’m talking on the phone.” O my god I’m having flashbacks to 1993 in the kitchen with my mom and she’s holding a corded phone. I need a clear history button for my head. “I’ve kept her in them most of this week, and I haven’t had to give a single spanking … Heh. Nope. Not even close, but if I counted every hand to the back of her pants as a spanking, she’d never have a spank-free day. She’s a handful, but she’s really such a good girl.” Ooo, she thinks I’m a good girl! Heck yes! It almost makes up for all the beans she’s spilling about me. Like, doesn’t Mary have any questions for … whatever her name is? A little something to help me understand why this conversation is happening? And I am gonna get a reward for not clobbering her with a throw pillow seven minutes ago, right? Cuz she earned it several times over. Really. “Know what you mean. I’m an on-the-spot spanker as much as possible. I don’t like waiting til we’re home alone. Little girls learn better when they’re corrected on the spot, at least in theory. But hey, if every lesson stayed learned then they wouldn’t be little girls forever.” Don’t you smirk at me you, you … smirker! I’m not getting twitterpated! You are! “They’re all sweeties. Ageplay for us just grew naturally our domestic discipline lifestyle and humiliation kink. We didn’t mean to, but I do love the quiet times. She’ll even take a bottle from me if I bribe her with an orgasm.” Whoa! TMI! … But also yes, true story. “Ann does? … Does she prefer ‘Ann’ or ‘Annie?’ … Mhmm … See, I don’t think that makes as much difference as Daphne thinks. It’s not like we’re not physically intimate all the time. I’ve been the big spoon seven hours a day since we moved in together. We’re into nursing as a sex act, but she insists, very adorably, that we can’t consider it part of our ageplay… You do? That’s … I’ve read about it but didn’t know anyone who did until now … I think that might be a step too far for Daffy. Don’t you get sore? … Uh-huh … Lanolin? … Interesting.” Hey. Hey! What does she do? And what the heck is ‘lanolin?’ I think I know, but I wanna hear you say it out loud so I can scream no-never-nope a bunch of different ways. Don’t let this person lead you astray, Mary. We got a really détente going on the nursing thing. Don’t screw it up. And also, stop telling her all the things! Have some dignity … said the woman in the diaper cuz her spouse made her. Dammit … “What are some of the things the two of you like to do? … Mhmm … Aww, that’s sweet … Daffy doesn’t have any other little friends who do. Our friend Sandy brought a little she plays with over, but we didn’t actually play with him. We don’t really even know him … I’d like it. I don’t know how Daffy would feel about it. Well, actually that’s not true. I do know, but I also know she’d enjoy it … She really does; more so after the fact, and she’d sooner burn the house down than admit it, but she does … Yeah, it’s more fun that way for both of us that way. She’s puts up the cutest fusses.” Just … no to all of that, whatever it is … Wonder what it is. Because reasons. “Mhmm … Yeah … Ha! … Awww!” O my god, she’s turning into an idiot right in front of me. “Together, yeah, she might. I wouldn’t let her without me anyway … A couple of times, but with people we both know. She likes it … Exactly. I’m sure you and Ann are the same way … I’ll ask her. I think we’d all have fun … Great. I gotta a little girl’s diapie to check, but it was great talking to you … You too. Bye.” There was a moment of silence, and when the moment passed, I very calmly, in that super calm and collected and well-reasoned and dignified way of mine, said, “I’ll show you a tantrum!” “Daffy …” “Who did you (steel rending) and why you gotta (train derailing) and what are you even (piano falling) and like I’m not even (mall imploding) and stop looking so amused before I hit you with a pillow!” “You are so …” “One comment about how red my face is and I’ll do it, I swear I will!” Feathers everywhere! … Or probably acrylic stuffing, but it would be heccin everywhere! I swear! “You remember Ann, the woman we met at the dungeon before Thanksgiving? That was her partner.” “Duh. What’s her name anyway?” “Jo.” “And when were you gonna tell me you got her number? And you coulda held back some of our secrets.” I may have a humiliation fetish, but Mary has a spilling-all-our-beans fetish, and yes, they do well together most of the time but also geez! Hold something back until we know them better or, ya know, NEVER! “She just wants to know more about us. Ann was very excited when she got home that night. We texted about the possibility of a playdate, and figured it would be easier to just talk … Sorry if I embarrassed you.” Just because you’re not winking, Mary, doesn’t mean I know you’re not even a little sorry. Probably aroused … Good thing I’m not. Really. But all I said was, “I guessed that fifteen minutes ago. Still doesn’t mean you had to tell her so much.” “Just being safe and getting to know each other more. She’s very protective of Ann, just like I’m very protective of you. I think we’ll like them a lot.” The feminine urge to say no to everything just to be oppositional. But I fought it back. “Well, so what do they like then?” “Ann is a little. We were thinking our playdate could be an actual playdate for the two of you,” Mary said like she knew I wouldn’t exactly love the idea. “Because the last one with Jane went so well.” Remember everyone not named Mary crying? “Ann sounds a little more like you than Jane is,” Mary replied in her how-to-put-this-delicately voice. “I think you’ll get along with her when she’s in little mode more than you do with Jane.” “How so,” I asked in my you’d-better-be-careful-with-your-phraseology-unless-you-want-a-real-tantrum-on-your-hands voice. “She’s … more active. Um, ‘high spirited’ is what Jo said.” I know what that means! I heccin know what that means! “You mean she gets in trouble a lot. Remember what happened when Jane got me in trouble?” As in almost every single time I ever played with her or just been near her when she’s little? “I think this will be different. I’d really like to give them a try. Please?” “What do I get for saying yes?” “I’ll pretend I don’t know about the peanut butter hearts you have hidden behind the canned goods.” “… Fine. But not here. Their house.” Not letting them into my batcave just yet. 14 Link to comment
diaperboymi Posted January 18, 2022 Share Posted January 18, 2022 On 10/12/2021 at 6:11 PM, Alex Bridges said: change OMG...i just Love this story!!!!!! Every chapter is Amazing!!!! My all time Favorite. Ok...so Daphne is getting closer to the proverbial Rabbit Hole. Can't wait for the Play Date. This could be really fun ? Thank you for the update Alex!!!!!!! Link to comment
bobindiapers Posted January 18, 2022 Share Posted January 18, 2022 1 hour ago, Alex Bridges said: There was a moment of silence, and when the moment passed, I very calmly, in that super calm and collected and well-reasoned and dignified way of mine, said, “I’ll show you a tantrum!” This was the funniest sentence I've read in a long time, I literally laughed out loud when I read it. Thanks for another great scene. 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 18, 2022 Author Share Posted January 18, 2022 1 hour ago, bobindiapers said: This was the funniest sentence I've read in a long time, I literally laughed out loud when I read it. Thanks for another great scene. Ha! Thanks. This was a fun one to write. Link to comment
YourFNF Posted January 19, 2022 Share Posted January 19, 2022 On 12/26/2021 at 8:48 PM, Alex Bridges said: She wanted to treat me like a bratty early teen with an overprotective mom who may or may not need ‘a little extra help’, whatever that means, then that’s what I’d be. Headspace, here I heccin come. Oh fuck this is hitting all my buttons On 12/26/2021 at 8:48 PM, Alex Bridges said: was going to come over, that would’ve been awesome, but Mom has to have her officially babysit me tells her I still wear diapers to bed and I still get spanked … and I still cry and carry on like a little kid when I do. Not cool. ?? On 12/26/2021 at 8:48 PM, Alex Bridges said: d say, I don’t need ‘a little extra help’ for my age, and I am so too old for spankings! Hmmph! But I’ll try to be a good girl and prove to Sara that I’m more mature than my parents (and, um, sometimes my behavior) give me credit for. Really. It really is uncanny how much I relate to Mary ?? 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 20, 2022 Author Share Posted January 20, 2022 22 hours ago, YourFNF said: Oh fuck this is hitting all my buttons Nice to hear from you, cutie ? Link to comment
YourFNF Posted January 22, 2022 Share Posted January 22, 2022 On 1/1/2022 at 8:03 PM, Alex Bridges said: I promise, but you hafta promise too.” “I promise.” She sealed her promise with a hug that I returned. Yeah Daphne is definetly but not about the diapers lol 1 Link to comment
YourFNF Posted January 22, 2022 Share Posted January 22, 2022 On 1/6/2022 at 8:50 PM, Alex Bridges said: “She wasn’t little. She was a middle at her very smolest.” “How would you know?” “Rumor and innuendo.” “What have I told you about gossiping?” Oh shit is is the denial cracking? XD On 1/6/2022 at 8:50 PM, Alex Bridges said: My person who totally followed up on the warning about biting. Sigh … getting smacked hard on the butt while a grown woman tells me ‘we do not bite.’ That really takes me back. And she is such a hypocrite cuz this one time at band camp she … O yeah, not supposed to gossip either. Dammit … 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 23, 2022 Author Share Posted January 23, 2022 Very long chapter. didn't proof read. O well. ___________________________ Scene #153 So what’s in the black mystery bag? Was it worth being well behaved? And let’s be honest and all admit together that a person can find being well behaved quite burdensome even though they’re not a brat. Really. “Daffodil,” Mary said to me Sunday afternoon. We’d attended zoom church, had lunch, and were having a lazy Sunday, the best kind, when my lovely wife sang my name as she came a-looking for me. “Daffodil … There you are.” “I need sun or else I revert to being a ginger,” I said from the chaise lounge on our patio. Not that it’s possible to get a tan or anything this time of year , but a little Vitamin D is good for the … whatever Vitamin D does. And it was warm enough to be okay in a light jacket. “It’s been a week.” “What has” I asked knowing exactly what had been a week. “Wanna come inside?” “I don’t know. Do I?” “C’mere, smartypants.” She pulled me to my feet and gave me a fun swat on my butt as she followed me inside. “Up the stairs and stop at the top.” O dammit all to yes she’s got the blindfold. And was twirling it suggestively on her finger. The blindfold is less a sex thing and more a I’m-excited-and-want-this-to-be-a-surprise thing. I even made her put it on the first time I made a whole chicken cuz I was proud of how good I did. Sooo good! It was brown and crispy on the outside and tender and moist on the inside, and the potatoes! OMG the potatoes! Anyhoo, she guided me into our boudoir and bade me hold still. “Arms up.” She took my shirt off, and I felt the vent blowing. She always turns the heat up a little or the A/C down a little when she gets me naked for these things. She wants me comfortable and relaxed, not goosebumpy and cold. “You put on a bra today.” “I thought I’d be fancy,” I giggled. I wasn’t cold, but still a little goosebumpy with the excitement and anticipation. She took it off, and I could sense her circling around me. “Another growth spurt,” she said as she hugged me from behind, taking two handfuls of … something, and added, “and you’ll be ready to graduate out of training bras.” “They’re not training bras, and I’m only letting that pass because … mmmm.” With the grabbing and the kneading and the mmmm. “Pants down next.” I coulda predicted that. She has taken my pants down so many times, she can flick a finger and the button just pops open. It just goes so show that ninja sorceresses hafta practice too. I mean, she mastered it sooner than a regular person would and does it with a certain sprezzatura, but it took practice to make perfect. There’s hope for us mere mortals yet. “With these slim little hips of yours. And what pretty panties you’re wearing.” “They just appeared in my drawer as if by magic.” As if an underpants gnome – and not just any underpants gnome, but Mary Queen of Underpants Gnomes – had taken a pair of my most ladylike panties and put them in my drawer, right on top where I’d be sure to see them, the royal purple satin standing out from the few pairs of cotton ones she’d left for me (unicorns, seahorses, strawberries, hello kitty, plain heather grey with a little pink bow). “Know what’s more fun than wearing pretty panties?” “Having them peeled d-down your legs by y-you?” “Are you stuttering cuz you’re nervous or cuz you’re excited?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Lift your foot.” “Can I keep my socks on?” “Toes cold?” “Mhmm.” “I got the heated throw all warmed up to keep those nice and toasty. Lift.” Aww! See how she thinks of me. “And the other … There. Daphne Ann Taylor, you are naked.” “This sorta thing happens to me every day,” I giggled. True story. At some point, naked. Showers, getting dressed, stuff and things. “Stand right here,” Mary said as she put me in very specific spot. “Why?” “Cuz.” “Woah! You pushed me!” O my god, seriously? She pushed me. She pushed me right down on to the bed. “I’ve always wanted to do that. You okay?” “Yeah.” Hey, she pushed me. That’s new and different. I mean, I’m more used to being pulled than pushed. Pulled into the corner for a timeout. Pulled into the dressing room as Macy’s for a … chastisement, verbal only cuz I’m way too old to get spanked. Really. Pulled into restrooms, out of cars … bent over the hood of the same car. I guess that counts as pushing, not that she ever has to pull or push very hard. I’m quite biddable. It’s almost like, and wouldn’t this be crazy, I like that stuff. Weird, I know. “So,” I asked, “what’s in that bag?” No particular reason I was asking. In fact, I really didn’t even care. That’s me – a study in nonchalance. “Well,” my Mary said to me as she did something. IDK what. I was blindfolded. Remember? “First off, let’s set some ground rules.” “I’m a good rule follower. One of the best. Really.” Just ask Mrs. Kindler, my kindergarten teacher. She recognized right away that I’m a good rule follower and even told my parents and the school counselor, ‘Daphne gets very anxious when other people aren’t following the rules.’ Ya don’t think that was indicative of any qualities or interests I’d later hold in life, do you? “You’re a very good rule follower, and an all-around good girl.” Squeeee! “Which is why I know you’ll follow these rules. The first rule is do your best to hold still. The second rule is keep your hands above your head. The third rule is keep your feet on the bed. And the third rule is do as I say, but that’s always a rule, isn’t it? “Yes’m” “And if you need help with any of the other three rules, I put the restraints on the bed posts just in case. Say that word, and we’ll just tie you down.” “I’m sorry, the who now?” “The restraints. You remember those. We got them a long time ago because a certain someone had a difficult time learning to stay in position. Remember?” “Ugh.” “Heehee. So that would be a yes.” It would indeed be a yes. Relating that period in our relationship deserves its very own chapter that I may someday relate in this diary that no one will ever read except me, but so sum it up, it went something like ‘Hold still.’ ‘Ouch!’ ‘I told you to hold still.’ “So let’s see those hands above your head.” I could hear her moving around, then coming back toward me and felt her get on the bed next to my hip. “When you said you didn’t feel well last week, I thought it would be a good time to get out the present Sandy gave me.” “Sandy’s been giving you presents?” Which, just first off, what the hell?!? I was that little girl who needed a present on someone else’s birthday to avoid getting all huffy and tossing a wobbly. I got over it by age seven. But also, I like presents! Where’s my present!?! Getting Mary presents without getting me a present … Hmmph! And second, crap. Sandy, that magnificent pot stirrer who delights in getting my goat and is directly responsible for the introduction of all things absorbent and crinkly into my life. “Mhmm. She thought since it’s my job to take care of you, I could use a few special tools to help.” Eep. “Let’s start by having you spread those legs.” Gulp. “It came in such a nice bag too. It has a zipper.” She unzipped it, she rezipped it, she unzipped it. Such a cliché … but it had a way of making me tingly anyway. Nothing reminds you you’re naked and blindfolded like a zipper to a mystery bag full of what I suspected were med-fet toys opening and closing. “She even left some instructions for me. ‘Dear Mary, You take such good care of Daffy, and to help you do that, I got you some equipment. I know you’re not a nurse, but if you follow these instructions you shouldn’t hurt her too much.’ Isn’t that sweet of her?” “(Squirmy anxiety noises).” “Okay, let’s see. Step one. Aww, this’ll be good. Remember to hold still.” O heccin heck I tried to hold still. I heard something tear, and realized a moment later it was a little paper foil packet containing an alcohol wipe that Mary, “Eeeeep!!” “No squirming, Daffodil.” “That’s … hot.” “Yes, sweetie. I know what alcohol wipes feel like. It probably feels very cool now, doesn’t it.” “Ehem.” “What a cute whimper that was. It’s important to be very sanitary. Remember when we talked about hygiene for young ladies? We’ll just get this … there we go. Almost done with this part. Just a couple more. Are you cold?” “Mmm-mmm.” “O good. Cuz your nipples are so hard.” Yes. Yes they were. Hard, and then warm and then cool. “One more time. Let me reach uff under uff here and … there it is. Ope! Keep those legs open.” “Eeeee I’m tryingggg.” Isn’t there some kind of clause in the Hippocratic oath about not using alcohol wipes on any part of the female body that could be euphemistically described as a button? “No shame in asking for the restraints. Okay, that’s done. Step two. A manual exam. I think this will feel familiar to you.” “What w mmmm.” “You’re supposed to do this each month. Have you been doing it at least once a month?” “Y-yes.” But I don’t do it quite the way she was doing it. Not quite as much kneading or pinching … or circular motions. “What’s your secret, Daffodil?” “My huh?” “Your secret to keeping your breast so perky? Personally, I’m not a doctor but I did stay at a holiday inn express last night, and I’d say being so small chested and not wearing a bra most days is probably why.” “That’s n-not very n-nice.” “It’s so cute when you have trouble saying your n’s. These are both fine. Pert and perky. How about we start doing that together each month? That way I can show you how. I know how daunting these womanly tasks can be for such a little girl. Heehee.” “Be n-nice.” “Mmmm. I’ll be so n-nice you’ll make all sorts of noises. You ready for step three?” “Mhmm.” And here I thought medical fetish tended to hurt. Slap! “Yeeech! Marrrry!” “Just following directions. Keep those hands above your head.” Slap! She’s not supposed to spank that part of me! Hmmph! At least unless I’ve done something to earn it … or unless I feel like it … or unless she feels like it. It’s … sensitive. “(Small gay whimper).” “Know what this part of the exam is for?” Slap! “(Smaller gay whimper).” “Wanna tell me what you’re feeling right now,” my kind and caring nurse Mary asked. I’ve been to lots of doctors, and I musta missed the part of the exam where they just slap it. “(Meeping noise) and stings and (sniffle).” “Interesting. Let’s try this oversized tongue depressor.” SPANK! “Yowww! M-Marrry (sniffle) (sob). That hurt,” I complained as I snapped my legs shut and rolled to my side where she couldn’t get to it again. I mean, I’ll give her access later, just not when she has whatever it was she got me with. “Normal reaction. That’s good. And it says here in these notes that if you roll over on your side, the best way to get you to roll back is to …” “Yawp!” “ … reach behind and pinch it from there.” Sandy must be a good nurse cuz yep, I rolled right back over to my back. “I don’t see any reason this toy can’t be added to our others.” I’d rather she didn’t! “No! … What is it?” “You’ll find out the next time you need a trip over my knee. Step four.” “Um how many steps are there? Asking for my friend.” “Such a question,” was Mary’s non-answer. What the heck does that even mean!?! She’s so … ugh! Grr. And stuff! “Spread those little legs of yours again.” “But why?” “Because I said so,” she practically growled at me. “O.” I mean, why didn’t just say that in the first place? I do lots of things cuz she says so. Some of them I even want to do, but plenty of them are totally and only and solely and definitely cuz she says so. She makes the rules, and I am her good little rule follower. Though now that I think on it, I can’t help noticing that following the rules very often causes the exact same kind of pain as results from now following the rules. Suspicious, that. Hmmm. I was just about to interrogate that thought further when, “Feels normal to me,” Mary said. And I was thinking, while she was rubbing that thing, what an interesting coincidence that was cuz her hand felt normal to me too. Though if I’m being honest, and sometimes that is very hard to do with healthcare professionals, it felt a little tender to me cuz a certain healthcare professional tenderized it a little. Ya know what I think? I think she’s a quack. That’s what she is. A quack. A fraud. Doesn’t even have a license to “Fnurple!” “The patient responded to the pinwheel being rolled across her labia majora by exclaiming, ‘fnurple.’ Let’s see how she reacts to her labia minora.” “O ffffffff.” “Patient responded by bitting her lip so hard … honey, you’re gonna … good girl. Patient responded to being called ‘good girl’ by making smiley face, giggling twice, and sighing.” This is what I mean by Mary just not having my way with words. It wasn’t just any smiley face. It was my all-is-right-with-the-world smile, just a couple seconds of arc away from my post-orgasm smile. And all was right with the world. Mary called me a good girl, and she took that pinwheel off of – or out of, depending on how you think about it – my … stuff. I hafta say I was starting to enjoy myself what with Mary having done a couple things I enjoy all the time and wish she’d so more of but won’t cuz she seems to think it wouldn’t be fun at all if she bruised it. You know how they say not having access to once sense heightens the others? I’d like to think that blindfolded or not, the sound of metal clanking against metal would we alarming to hear when you’re flat on your back with your legs open. “Step five seems like more of a thing to do with Sandy in the room, and step six … hmmm.” Hey! Hey! Think out loud! I’m not scared! You are! “We’ll save it for when your choices have been very, very naughty. But don’t think I won’t.” “What is it?” “I’ll tell you in a moment. Flip over.” “Make me.” Heehee! “Woah! Heehee.” I love it when she does that. She can manhandle me anytime, and it’s even more impressive cuz I don’t have a handle to man … I regret saying that. Anyhoo, Mary’s Level 99 ability to flip me over is just fun, except when she uses it for evil so she can spank me. I don’t even know why she does that. I’ve never earned a spanking in my life. Really. “For this part, we’re gonna use the restraints,” Mary said as she climbed right on top of me, planted a knee on either side to pin little ol’ me between her legs, and started attaching the wrist cuffs. It was only then, feeling her on top of me, that I realized my nurse – and how unprofessional was this – was naked. Totally naked … with very warm skin resting against my very warm skin. It was enough to momentarily distract me from the big picture, which is saying a lot cuz I’m the sorta person who sees the forest and the trees, as a spritely wood nymph such as myself must if I’m to survive in the forest I share with Mary the Big Bad She-Wolf. “But why,” is a question I asked when she turned her attention to the ankle cuffs. “Do you remember why we got these in the first place?” “Vividly.” “So when we do the next step, I won’t hafta do that to you.” “O … thanks?” “You’re very welcome (kiss).” Aww, she kissed me! The Big Bad She-Wolf kissed me! And all this time I thought she was trying to gobble me up, and it turns out she’s just socially inept and didn’t know the right way to say that she likes me. Maybe even like likes me. Sigh. SPANK! “Ow. Mary, have you ever even been to the doctor, cuz that’s not how OW!” Oof. That was a big one. “Patient readily displays handprints on her bottom cheeks.” “Malpractice suit,” I grumbled. “You’re too little to sue, sweetheart. And yes, you did just hear a rubber glove snapping.” “I hope that hurt your wrist but not really cuz I like you and I’m having fun.” Especially now that she wasn’t slapping my most sensitive parts and poking ‘em with pinwheels and stuff. “I’m having fun too. You’re a very good patient.” “I patient patient.” “Now for this next part, you might feel a sensation as though your butt cheeks are being spread, but that’s only because they are.” “Mmm.” If wish there were a way to do that without actually doing it. Never fails but every time that happens, I can’t help but feel a really good stretch I wish I could replicate cuz it feels good. But trying telling that to your yoga instructor and see the face she makes. Judgmental pretzel girl … Anyhoo, “And this next sensation may feel …” Greasy? Goopy? Gloppy? Looooooobricated? “What is that?” “Vaseline.” “But … fine.” We don’t use vaseline. We use water-based lubes. Water-based lubes get absorbed. Oil-based lubes get absorbed eventually. Nothing short of a towel would be needed to clean me up, and I for one nominate one of Mary’s towels. Just sayin’. “And just relax. You’re gonna feel something cold on your button.” Gulp. “Okay. This is a little tricky, so bear with me here.” “That’s not inspiring much confidence.” “One, two, three …” ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. What the hell was … ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. “Don’t be alarmed.” ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. Why the hell are my teeth chattering!?! ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. O gawd that feels … “Just let it happen.” ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. “Mmmmmary?” “Doing okay?” “I must confess to you that I’m very sexually stimulated right now … I think I have a girl-rection.” “Patient gets girl-rections.” ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. “Zeezle! What is that even … ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. “Gah!” “Patient began to hyperventilate. Attempted to close her legs but merely tightened her lovely little adductor muscles.” ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz. “Hhh … hhhhhh! Uuummmuh! Please don’t …” ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! “Ahhh! Ahhh. O. Ooo … haha … sigh …” O my gawd, what did she do to me and why didn’t she do it sooner? What the damn even? “Patient came … hard.” Ooo, I made the nurse laugh. “What … even?” “A tuning fork and a reflex hammer. I think you’re vibrate best at 500 gigahertz.” “… Okay …” I swear, for a full two seconds the world behind my blindfold turned bright white. Is that a thing? “Let’s feel. Just get my hand ugh under uf … Yep, patient squirted. I knew I shoulda put a pad down first. Patient has a history of leaking fluids all over the bed, even through her diapers.” “Patient is sleepy now.” Just … ya know, good time to take a nap. “I have just the thing to wake the patient up. Just a sec … there.” “Yipe!” I’m awake! … What’s happening? “What are you …” “Ya know how sometimes I check your temperature by putting my hand on your forehead?” I do recall that, and it makes me feel all fuzzy about her even when I don’t feel good. “And you know how we have a forehead thermometer? And you know how they make rectal thermometers?” “That’s not …” “Sandy put one in here, but I figured, hey, if you putting my hand on your forehead works instead of a thermometer, why not just put two fingers in your bottom?” “(Sound of a blank mind).” Mary sometimes has that effect on me. Really. And hey, you ever notice that when someone puts the back of their hand on your forehead to see if you feel hot, they take their hand off you in literally a second? And did you ever notice that they don’t move their hand in small circles? … Or put their thumb on your perineum and hold you like a bowling ball? “Suck in your tummy like you’re trying to hold your pee.” “W-why?” “Cuz I said.” O yeah. Alright, here I … huh. That’s a new sensation. “Now push out … Patient displays good muscle tone.” Couldn’t help but notice Mary was leaving her fingers in there while she did whatever she was doing. “Lift up your pelvis just a bit … Good girl … Patient giggles when called a good girl, causing a slight contraction of her anal sphincter … Patient’s butt blushes from the back of her ears all the way to her butt when you point that out.” Not to be rude or anything, but, um … “Are you almost done?” “Just a second. Let me turn this on.” Bwuhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! “Hhh! Hhh! Ugh! Rghhhhhhh!!! Hhh … hhh …” “Patient rapidly comes to orgasm. Unclear whether speed of response is due to recency of previous orgasm, the motion I’m making with my fingers, or turning the vibrator straight to high. Further experimentation needed.” “Muh … wuh …” I was going for ‘when.’ My Mary and I can read each other’s minds. True story. Bwuhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! “O o o o o o o nrrrrrrr rrrr! Hehh! Hehh hhh … hhh …” “Results inconclusive. Try again in a week. How you doing, Daffy? Ew. Patient is sweaty.” So wait a second. This was what Mary was gonna do to me for misbehaving? Did I miss something? Did she follow the instructions right? “M’okay.” “You’re okay? I’m exiting.” Ope! “You have quite the strong pelvic floor, Daffodil. You should felt how hard you contracts around my fingers when you made those noises.” “I did … Can you please take the blindfold off?” “Right after I take these gloves off.” “O … Good idea.” And she even remembered to keep the lights off so I wouldn’t get all squinty when she took the blindfold off. She’s so thoughtful. “Better?” “Yeah.” “We got one more thing to do.” “It is nap?” “Fine, two more things.” She took the cuffs off, and even though they weren’t tight, I still rubbed my wrists. I guess it’s a reflex, and no surprise cuz she just tested some of those and they’re very strong. I rolled over all on my own, getting my first glimpse of the vibrator she’d put under me. “I didn’t even know they make them corded.” “When you need more power, plug it right into the main,” she said as she cleaned things up. I … didn’t help her do that. “You made a mess.” “Did not.” “That’s not my wet spot all over the sheets, silly goose.” O … that. “It’s still yours. When you shake up the soda bottle, you don’t blame the bottle for the mess.” “Pbbbt! Okay, fine. That’s mine.” She went into the bathroom and I’m guess just set everything down to clean later, and then came back out and went into the closet. Shocker. “Do you want a medical diaper so the other patients don’t make fun of you, or do you want … bunnies?” “I want nothing.” True story. Nothing wrong with getting some air. “Not an option, sweetie. Not after that mess.” She came out with a bunny diaper. “Well, pretty sure I’m not gonna do that again.” “But you didn’t know you were gonna do those three either. Lay back.” “Fine … But only because I like you. I don’t like the diapers.” “I know sweetie. Lift up … There. Be right back.” “Why,” I asked her as she disappeared back into the bathroom. “I said we still had one more thing to do,” she answered as she walked back over with … “What kind of syringe is that?” “It’s a douche syringe.” “Ew. Mary.” “Don’t worry, sweetie. That’s not how we’re gonna use it. Or more specifically, how I’m gonna use and how you’re gonna have it used on you.” You’d think I’d be pretty desensitized after the last hour we’d spent together with her doing all those things to me, but watching her put on another rubber glove, I gotta say no. No, I wasn’t desensitized. “Put your head back … Now lift your knees to your chest. Hold them there. Let me just rub this on your … Patient has responds eagerly to gentle circles on her button … Just relax. Sliding it in … There.” “You hafta to tell me what’s in there before you …” “This is gonna feel a little weird.” “What is it?” “Vaseline. One two three …” Hoohah that’s a weird feeling. “Ha. Patient makes the cutest faces when I do stuff to her butt.” “You would … too. What was that for,” I asked as she took the syringe out, removed her glove and walked back into the bathroom o so casually. I was just curious. No other reason I asked. “To see you make a funny face later.” I heard her washing her hands. “While will I make a funny face later?” Hey, this feels … eep! “Cuz your body is going to slowly push that back out of you.” “Um, Mary?!?” That made her come a running back in. “Knees down. There,” she said as she diapered me in record time. “What the heck!?!” “Feel funny?” “Yes!” And not haha funny. NOT HAHA FUNNY! “Try to hold it.” “Why?” “Cuz you won’t be able to.” O my god! She’s … “What? Stop smiling!” “Make me.” “You … Urgh!” “It could be worse. It could’ve been a suppository.” “You mean it’s gonna make me …. You know!?!” “Of course not, silly. Though it may make going tomorrow pretty easy. But today the Vaseline will just come out into your diaper. Aren’t you glad you’re wearing it?” Hhh! There’s a sensation you don’t feel every day. At least she doesn’t hafta know when it’s happening. “Aww, did something just go squirt in your pampers?” “No! … How could you tell?” “Cuz your eyebrow is arched liked you’re … working something out.” “It’s not funny!” “A little bit.” “It’s not!” “And cute.” “It’s …” Screw it! And by ‘it,’ I mean what was left of my dignity. I put my hand in the back of my diaper (hers, to be clear) and … It was very slick in there, and there was nothing I could do about it. If she had tried to put a plug in me, it wouldn’t have stayed put. “Marrrry!” “Awww, c’mere.” Good! I needed a hug. “I know it feels funny, sweetie, but you’ll get used to it. It’ll be over in an hour and two, and we’ll get you into some clean huggies. Okay?” “I guess.” What choice did I have? This was so embarrassing! I couldn’t control it, and she knew it, and just … hmmm. “(Conflicted noises).” “How about we go take that nap now?” “Okay.” “In the guest room. We’ll put our sheets in the washer later.” “Okay.” “You gonna be smol and nonverbal cuz you’re embarrassed?” Ugh. Called out. “Mhmm.” “Did you have fun being my patient?” “Mhmm … What was that other thing? The one you said you’d tell me later?” “A catheter.” “Nnnnooooo! No, Mary! No!” She seemed to consider my position before replying, “We’ll save it as a just-in-case punishment.” “But … rrrrmmm.” “The classic sound of little girls who need their nap.” “Can we have sex later?” “… Really?” “I didn’t get to share.” “You’re so thoughtful. Under the covers, little spoon. And let’s try to keep these sheets dry, hmm?” I let that go. I let the diaper pats go. I let it go when she asked me if I had any more of that Vaseline to let go (turns out yes). And I’ll tell you one darn thing – I like her. Like, a lot. And I’m a good sharer too. 16 Link to comment
kerry Posted January 23, 2022 Share Posted January 23, 2022 So cute...as usual. And, yes, there is a good amount of proofing needed, but still fun. ? (Don't forget to look at your title when proofing: you wrote 1/13 instead of 1/23.) 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 23, 2022 Author Share Posted January 23, 2022 1 hour ago, kerry said: So cute...as usual. And, yes, there is a good amount of proofing needed, but still fun. ? (Don't forget to look at your title when proofing: you wrote 1/13 instead of 1/23.) Yep. I wrote the whole thing in one sitting today. Just couldn’t stand the thought of proofing it for another two hours or making you guys what a day. Plus I wanted to work on. New story. Link to comment
Sarah Penguin Posted January 24, 2022 Share Posted January 24, 2022 silly baby girls like daffy and the author. 1 Link to comment
Bel George Posted January 24, 2022 Share Posted January 24, 2022 Great chapter, again. 1 Link to comment
diaperboymi Posted January 24, 2022 Share Posted January 24, 2022 OMG...Absolutely Amazing chapter!!!!! Just loved it? Th hanks for keeping this wonderful story alive!!!!!!! 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted January 26, 2022 Author Share Posted January 26, 2022 Scene #154 Me and Mary live a lifestyle relationship. If she says jump, I decide whether to jump or not, but if not, she decides whether and what consequence to give me for my disobedience (or half assed hop, cuz there’s degrees of obedience just like there are of consequences). But as you may have noticed, dear diary, that doesn’t mean every so often Mary doesn’t contrive a kinky little scene. She usually just springs it on me, and I hate it so much that I just go along with it and feel very happy during parts of it and even more after it’s over (cuz usually my butt hurts and my pride is in intensive care – so much fun except it’s not except for all the times it is which is always plus or minus yes and sorry for springing math on you there). But just like Mary is not quite as good with the wordplay as me, she’s also not as good with the subtlety. Perhaps it’s cuz as a smokin’ hottie (if your type is Mary, and my type is definitely positively so heccin Mary), you don’t have to be subtle. Or maybe it’s a dominant thing; you don’t need to be subtle when you’re as in charge as Mary is, and maybe even subtlety is counter to the whole domme thing. Not that she doesn’t have her ways of persuading me other than outright coercion. ‘Don’t you wanna be my good girl?’ I know exactly what she’s doing when she says that, and it still works anyway which is just so heccin unfair with how my mind-slash-hormones work. But my point is that when she decides to spring a scene on me, she’s about as subtle as a rodeo bull at the ballet. Just as an aside, I don’t know if I think the rodeo is cruel or not. Don’t like animal sports generally, but on the other hand, what a shot of self-esteem those bulls must feel when they throw one of those guys off and make all the clowns run away. This is how my mind works; it’s very tiring bouncing from thought to random thought. Anyhoo, my point, because I’m making one and getting to it and be patient, is that Mary isn’t subtle with the scenes she makes up. She usually just charges into a room and dives on in. But I can conjure up scenes too, and I can do it with subtlety. To whit … “Daphne Ann Taylor, where are you?” Of course, while I set the conditions for the scene (subtly), I can get in trouble for any reason or no reason at any time. Hearing all three of my names left me no doubt I was in a lot of trouble, but I didn’t know if I was in trouble in the happy confines of my scene or for something serious. The former would always make me nervous in an anticipaty you’ve-really-done-it-now-you-lucky-girl way, but not knowing if I was in real trouble made me nervous in the o-crap-what-did-I-do-way. A worthwhile sacrifice for the fun (I hoped) were about to have. Did I ever mention I’m one of the world’s great risk takers. Wannabes talk about risking their ass, but I live it, dammit! But first, just nervous. “Um,” I said at the volume one would use when speaking with someone sitting right next to them, “in here.” And given how PISSED off she sounded, I decided to, maybe, hide under the blanket I was already partly under. Not really, if anyone asks, cuz I don’t hide from trouble. I confront trouble. In fact, I am trouble. In fact, I’m all the trouble anyone is ever gonna get. But also yes, I got under the blanket. Not saying I hid well. Or at all. Really. “Daphne,” the big foot I married barked at me as she stormed across our living room. THWAWP! She can find my butt in a blizzard (true story), so managing to connect her hand with it under the blanket was easy peasy for her. “Out from the blanket.” “No!” “You … Gimme!” OMG, she’s actually trying to yank my blanket away. And damn she’s strong. Nice reminder this was gonna hurt before it got better. “No. Uf! Mine!” Yep, I wasn’t making it worse at all. “You get out here right this instant, young lady!” For a second there, I thought she was gonna yank me and the blanket clean off the couch, leaving the blanket dangling from her fist and me dangling from the blanket. Too bad it didn’t; it would really be nice to confirm that I truly do live in a cartoon. “Not til you tell me why I’m in trouble!” “Cuz of what I found in your purse. I’ma count to three and then …” Speaking of bulls at the ballet, I guess she lost her patience or something cuz she blew hot angry air out of what I imagine were some seriously flaring nostrils, and with one last yank, she proclaimed, “Three!” Damn; there went my hiding spot-slash-butt armor. Spanks don’t hurt nearly so bad through a blanket. “O, hi, Mary. When did you get home?” Of course, she hadn’t actually left home yet that day, but details. It was in that moment, and not a moment sooner, as I saw how red her face was (but that could’ve been the exertion of our epic blanket struggle) and her narrowed eyes glaring at me (but maybe the sun was in her eyes?) and the way she was white knuckling the hairbrush (perhaps she had something slippery on her hand?) that I realized that in my haste to be subtle in instigating this scene, she might not have known it was a scene. “You,” Mary said (Exclaimed? Accused?). She said a ton of other stuff, and I’d tell you what it was except I didn’t hear it so well through the sensory overload I was experiencing at the time. First there was the shock to my vestibular system as she yanked me right off the couch. Happened very fast; it was like, where even is my body in space? Up is down, down is up, and all at the same time. And talk about auditory overload. There was the sound of hairbrush-on-jeans, hand-on-jeans, hand-on-panties, hand-on-butt, hairbrush-on-butt, and lot of exclamatory ows and ouches and “hey!” and “no!” and “eeeeeee!” and “waaaah!” And that was just me. From Mary, what little I could make out through her vengeful sputtering came words like “Dare you!” and “Disgusting” and “No!” and “Hold! Still!” and “Bad girl!” And I gotta admit, that stung a little. As all that was happening, my visual cortex was going haywire. There was Mary in my line of sight. There was the window. There as Mary again. There was the kitchen. There was the floor. There was Mary. There was that hairbrush. There were my bare legs. There was the couch. And my heart rate was all over the place. First the shock of being exposed to the cold world outside my blanket, to say nothing of being stripped of my clothing. Then the dance marathon she forced me to undertake just to try to stay ahead of that hairbrush. And my sense of touch? Fuhgeddaboudit. The tight grip on my upper arm. The searing pain on my butt and thighs. The abrupt and and unexpected wetness on cheeks. All put together, I was having a suddenly and inexplicably very hard day. But I am ever the trooper, every so composed, ever so ready to pull myself together in the harshest of circumstances, to focus on the important things. That stellar ability of mine is how I was able to collect myself and pay attention to what Mary was saying (Shouting? What’s just shy of shouting?). “You naughty, naughty …” Of course, Mary, not being as cool as cucumber me, couldn’t seem to even finish a thought. “Never been in so much trouble you think you’re hold still and take your we’ll just see about don’t you try to won’t sit for move your to the stone age when I’m through with you HOLD STILL!” I mean, geez, Mary, cliché much? Nothing at all like how I all the clever things I said (really!) such as, “Mary Mary Mary OW Mary EEP Mary Mary STOP Mary NO Mary Mary Mary NOT MY THIGHS Mary WAAHH Mary Mary Marrrryyyyyyyy WAAH WAAH MaryyyyyyWAAHHHHHHH!” I never did like getting spanked standing up. Best case, you feel like you’re giving up even more control cuz you’re on your feet, perfectly capable of running away or (heaven forfend!) fighting back, but you’re standing there and taking it. Worst case, you do try to run away or at least resist and end up getting pushed and pulled in a continuous circle as you try to get your spankable parts away from whatever is spanking you and the person doing the spanking is basically playing a circular game of whack-a-mole (whack-a-butt) looking for every opening to land a spank. There’s exactly three ways for that to end. First, your spanker decides you’ve learned your lesson and it’s over, and if you think Mary was going to come to that decision, this must be your first time breaking into my diary. Second, in your effort to not get spank and their effort to spank, something very hard hits your hand, and the injury brings things to abrupt stop. But Mary and I are Level 99 at this stuff and wouldn’t make a rookie mistake like that. The third way is the spanker unilaterally decides (so rude) to finish your spanking (or start your second spanking, depending on how naughty your choices were) in a manner more advantageous to them. And if that happens, the circular spank dance the two of you are playing becomes a beeline linear waltz to the nearest suitable piece of furniture. If you’re lucky, you get dragged there by your arm. If you’re not lucky, you get picked up under their arm or tossed over their shoulder like an unruly toddler. And if you’re me, you realize just how much you bit off and panic, so it’s not a straight line to the nearest sturdy chair but a zig zag. You zig (try to get away), and they zag (spank you right back toward that chair). In our case, a kitchen chair, pulled with something less than gentle care out from the table, upon which is your purse … and the subtle prop that started all this. “Marrryyy.” Hey my feet are off the floor. “Whoah!” Hey the floor is coming rapidly toward my face. “Oof!” O goodie, a controlled landing across Mary’s lap. “Cigarettes!” Mary barked. SPANK! “In your purse!” SPANK! “Explain yourself, young lady!” SPANK! “Um … I’m holding them for a friend?” SPANK “Yowl!” “Not like you’re gonna!” Wonder what that means? SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK-YOOOOOOOWWWWLLLLLL-SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK-OOOOWWWWWLLLLLL-SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK O, that’s what she meant. Dammit. “Try again.” “They make me look cool?” O gawd wrong answer eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyoowwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh. “Stop! Please!!!” “There (SPANK!) is (SPANK!) no (SPANK!) smo-(SPANK!)-king (SPANK!) in (SPANK!) this (SPANK!) house (SPANK!) do (SPANK!) I (SPANK!) make (SPANK!) my-(SPANK!)-self (SPANK!) clear (SPANK!)?” “But it wasn’t in the house!” SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK “I can do what I want!” It’s actually never a good idea for me to say that pretty at any time. SPANK!SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK “I’m not a little girl!” You’d think that would go in one ear and out the other for all the good reciting it almost daily does. I mean, does she even hear it? “You (SPANK!) are (SPANK!) too (SPANK!) a (SPANK!) lit-(SPANK!)-tle (SPANK!) girl (SPANK!)! You (SPANK!) are (SPANK!) my (SPANK!) lit-(SPANK!)-tle (SPANK!) girl(SPANK!), and (SPANK!) you (SPANK!) are (SPANK!) NOT (SPANK!) going (SPANK!) to (SPANK!) ruin (SPANK!) your (SPANK!) health (SPANK!) so (SPANK!) help (SPANK!) me (SPANK!)! Do (SPANK!) you (SPANK!) under-(SPANK!)-stand (SPANK!) me (SPANK!) lit-(SPANK!)-tle (SPANK!) girl?” SPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANKSPANK Some people – uninformed, scurrilous, scrofulous, ill mannered, of very poor breeding and worse upbringing – will claim (lie, actually, cuz it’s a lie. you know, the thing liars do? yeah, that) that by this point I was limp as a dishrag, bawling my eyes out, and muttering nonsense words punctuated every half-second by outcries of pain and regret. But I wasn’t. I was quite stoic and maintained my characteristic equanimity and good cheer. Um, really. Some people will claim that Mary, a little out of breath and kinda sweaty, delivered one final thunderspank, set the hairbrush down, and did one hundred percent of the work of lifting my limp body from laying across her lap to sitting me in it, and that’s a true story. “Shhh. I only spanked you so hard because I love you so much.” “Eeemee meee!” “And don’t think I won’t do it again if I so much as smell smoke on your clothes.” “Mee mee meeee meemeemee!” O my gawd she spanked me so hard she turned me into a muppet! “At home, in public, in front of company. This is a very serious, and I’ll drop your pants and panties and bruise your butt right then and there.” “Meeeeeeeeeeee!” “Yes, you.” Did she just ... grr. “I’m soorrryyyyy,” I sobbed (yay making words again!). “I know you are. You’d be a very silly little girl if that spanking didn’t get through to you. “Ionvruagen.” Well, the words were nice while they lasted. “You know I love you very much?” O my god – she does!?! “Hhh hhh hhhwaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” Perfectly reasonable response, just the way us perfect and reasonable people always respond. “You are such a silly goose. Calm down. Shhhhh. You’re okay. …Take a deep breath … Shhhhh … Daphne, breathe. Sweetie, you need to breath.” SPANK! “(Gasp cough choke snot release).” I’m so fucking pretty. “(Whimper snort snort whimper snort).” And classy. “Let’s go wash your face, and I’ll rub some cream on your bottom.” “M-Mar?” “Yes, my sweet girl?” “It w-was just a s-scene.” “I know, sweetie. If I thought you actually smoked any, you’d have a bar a soap in your mouth, an enema nozzle in your bottom, and a second spanking coming with the belt.” “O.” “I won’t have you ruining your pretty pink lungs or smelling like a a bar or tasting like an ash tray.” “Me neither.” “Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Mary said as she put me on my feet and held my hand up the steps. “You called me a bad girl.” “I didn’t mean it. You’re a good girl.” “I didn’t even inhale.” “My very good girl.” Ooo! Not to brag or nothin’, but my wife who just spanked my butt purple says that I’m her very good girl. “(SNURFFLE!) I needuh bow my ose.” “Heehee! And you already got so much of it on me.” “I’ma chooz uh eezyer thene neth time (SNURFFLE!).” “God you are so fucking pretty.” “I wo, wight? (SNURRFLE!)” 13 Link to comment
diaperboymi Posted January 28, 2022 Share Posted January 28, 2022 Oh poor Daphne...but ya gotta know she loves it ???? 1 Link to comment
Bluebird67 Posted January 28, 2022 Share Posted January 28, 2022 She definitely should “chooz uh eezyer thene neth time“ 1 Link to comment
Alex Bridges Posted February 2, 2022 Author Share Posted February 2, 2022 Scene #155 Does anyone besides me ever notice how often I’m just minding my own business? “Where’s Daphne,” people say. “I don’t know,” their conversation partner answers. “That’s probably cuz she’s off somewhere minding her own business,” they reply, “She usually is.” Yep, that’s a thing people say about me. I mind my own business, and things just happen to me. Don’t get me wrong though; I control my own fate. I am the agent of my own destiny. I’m in charge … and stuff. Really. “Daffy,” this person I live with named Mary called out all dulcet and stuff. Tell you two secrets: I like her and she’s pretty. “I’m in here,” I answered cuz why would I ever want her to not be able to find me considering how pretty she is and how much I like her? Well, I’ll tell you (dammit). “There you are. I looked everywhere for you,” the Mary I married said to me. “That’s just not true,” I said with one eye on the TV, “cuz I’ve been on this couch for two hours and our house isn’t that big.” “You’re very verbal for such a little girl. People compliment me on how verbal you are all the time.” “Pretty sure you just called me a smartass,” I mumbled. “We need to have a little chat,” she told me. That got my attention. I know what that means, and just then I noticed she had one hand hidden behind her back. Ruh roh, Shaggy. Wurr win rubble! And like, we even didn’t do anything, man! (PS, my business that I was minding was watching Scooby and the gang solve a mystery. I’m pretty sure there’s something delightfully gay going on between Velma and Daphne). I sat up as she sat down. “Before we do that, I just wanna say I’m almost positive I didn’t do anything.” She chuckled at me. Imagine chuckling at someone in distress, especially someone who is legit one thousand percent of the time cool and collected like me and has never been in distress before. Rood. She has no manners, my Mary doesn’t. “It’s what you haven’t been doing that I want to talk about.” “But I already did … everything … ever … really.” Did I mention my butt was still four shades of bruised from my brilliant but ill-advised nicotine scene brilliance (borderline fiasco). And I’ll tell you something else: I did NOT flinch when she took her hand out from behind her back. I mean, why would I flinch at, “A teddy bear?” “Not just A teddy bear, Daffy. Your teddy bear. I found her in the closet. I’ve been wondering where she went.” She set the thing down in her lap like it was an infant who hadn’t mastered sitting up on their own (and I didn’t roll my eyes at all cuz I have the best poker face ever). “She must’ve been in there for months. All alone and in the dark.” “That’s just …” Grrr. Tactic change. I’ll just play the game better than her. “You don’t even know that! She went on vacation, actually. She had so much fun she wanted some time alone after all that stimulation … and stuff.” “Such an active imagination. People compliment me on what a good imaginer you are.” “Bullcrap,” I mumbled. “If you can imagine her – it – alone in the closet, then I can imagine she went on vacation. She’s my bear.” A teddy bear that Mary got me. I’m not really a stuffed animal person, but the thought was sweet (even if I knew it was one of her not-so-subtle ways of implying I’m little, but I saw through it and decided to think it was just sweet of her because I’m smarter and more forgiving than the average bear). At first I humored Mary and would put it on the bed when I made it but move it to the dresser at night. Then I just left it on the dresser, and Mary moved it back to my pillow every (single damn) day. “Honey, bears can handle lots of stimulation, and you know that.” Excuse me? Telling me what the heck I know … “And as much as I love your imagination, we both know bears can’t take vacations alone. It would be very neglectful and unsafe for them to travel on their own. They’re not even allowed on airplanes by themselves.” “It rented a car,” I hmmphed. “That’s just silly. She’s even littler than you.” “It. Was. A. Little. Car.” “Daphne Ann, you left her in the closet all alone for months, didn’t you?” “Mary …” “Didn’t you?” “She was hanging out with my summer wardrobe! And our closet is the funnest room in the house! Our best sex toys are in there!” True heccin story. “Language.” “Rrrr, Marrrry! Can I please go back to my show? I don’t like this game, and I think this time the ghost is finally real.” I’m not naïve; I’m just hopeful. “It’s ‘may I please go back to my show,’ and no, you may not.” O no she did not just ‘may I’ me! Well fine! I can … ignore her! I’m powerful enough to do that, ya know. And not scared of her. So not scared I even gave her my unimpressed face right before I picked up the remote and turned the volume up on Scooby and friends. Something about that Velma – red hair, smart, short – reminds me of someone I can’t put my finger on and she is just so hot to me. Really. And Mary, being the bully that she is, reached over, grabbed my wrist in one hand, took the remote away with the other, set it on the tables, and then – what the heck! – smacked my hand! I mean, really? Really? I didn’t say so to Mary cuz I didn’t wanna hurt her feelings or sink to her level, but hitting is what we do we’re not smart enough to use our words. Definitely didn’t hold my tongue cuz I wasn’t clever enough in the moment to come up with that or cuz I’m scared of her or anything or … stuff. Really. And then the big B turned my show off. Hmmph! “You’re already getting a spanking, Daphne. Don’t make it worse.” “What!?! What the fu …” Ooo. Mary’s finish-that-word-and-I’ll-finish-you face. She doesn’t mind me swearing, but when I’m already in trouble, even just “trouble,” or when she wants to play one of her (exclusively hers) ageplay games, she actually takes it super fu… super heccin seriously. I took a breath and continued, “What I meant to say was that I didn’t do anything wrong, and I don’t want a spanking.” “I know you don’t want a spanking, Daffodil. That’s why it’s a consequence, and whether you want one or not doesn’t matter. I’m in charge, and I know when little girls need a spanking. And I know that you, little girl, need a spanking.” It would be so much easier if she said stuff like that in an I’m-out-of-patience-you’re-really-gonna-get-it-now voice instead of her I’m-explaining-this-to-you-gently-and-piece-by-piece-cuz-you’re-smol-and-need-it-explained-and-I-don’t-want-you-to-be-scared voice. Not that the latter pushes any buttons of mine or anything. It doesn’t … Really. “But I didn’t do anything!” “That’s the problem. You’ve been neglecting your bear.” “But …” I wasn’t getting all huffy and twitterpated. You were! “I didn’t do anything.” I didn’t lower my voice to a resigned sigh. Um … you did! Ya big resignated … sigher person. “I think we need to finish this conversation with you across my lap. Stand up.” “But I don’t wanna. My butt still hurts from last time.” And I didn’t get up because she told me to. Scurrilous lies! I got up because … reasons … and stuff. “And that’s what happens when your behavior tells me you need two spankings so close to each other. Let’s get these down.” And I didn’t stand there ineffectually letting her take my pants down. It’s just that I didn’t even like those pants and wanted them off … and stuff. “Are you at least dry? You know one more accident and it’s back to diapers for the rest of the day.” Firstly, I don’t know that cuz she just makes stuff up as she goes. Second, nuh-uh one more! There wasn’t one to begin with! And third but not last, I didn’t just let her touch me through my underpants. Cuz one, I’m not that easy … and stuff. “Damp but I wouldn’t call this an accident,” she said like a verbal pat on the head. “At least not yet. Turn around.” And I wasn’t! I was … humid at most. And she made me that way with her ordering me around and talking down to me and pushing the buttons … and stuff. Really! Just like that, I was facing the other way. Which was fine by me. Really. I wasn’t even thrown off at all when I heard a cautious sniff (ugh!) and felt her pull on the waistband of my panties. “Hey!” is a thing I said cuz I wanted to and not because I was responding to anything anyone else did … and stuff. Really. I don’t react to events. I drive events. I am events! … And stuff. “I’ll keep checking your bottom until I’m sure you’re past that stage of growing up.” I didn’t and I never and I wasn’t and mean! Just mean! “Turn back around for me.” I started getting over her lap without being told, proof if any was ever needed (and it wasn’t) that I make my own decisions. Um, really. Please? “Ah-ah,” she said to me before I could. “Daphne Ann, I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said.” If only that were true. Sigh … “You almost laid down on your bear. You’re much too big to lay down on her. She’d have been seriously hurt. Don’t you roll your eyes at me.” Who, me? “You watch very closely. Bears are very delicate. We pick them up like this, and we set them down very gently where they won’t get hurt. Now, over my knee.” At least I’ll get a spanking out of this stupid game of hers. It’ll hurt, but that’s at least fun after, is what I told myself as I got across her lap. Good thing I like it there given how much time I spend there. But don’t tell her cuz she’ll take that as an invitation to do it all the time and I already gave her than invitation and look where it got me. In wonderfully happy marriage and just as in love with my wife as when we first met. It’s awful. Really. “Could we please just get this over with already?” What brat? Who? Where? Not me! Really! Hmmph! “No, we cannot just get it over with. You’re going to lay there and hold still like the good little girl I know you really despite your extra fussy attitude, missy. For a little girl who’s been watching cartoons all day, you really don’t have a reason to be grumpy with me.” O my god let me count the reasons! Firstly, interrupted my cartoon. Answer B: I was watching live-action shows earlier, so don’t you be telling me I’ve been watching cartoons all day. The truth matters. Thusly, I didn’t like Mary’s game. Thenly, I don’t even like teddy bears! But try telling that to Mean Mary, which is what everyone who’s me calls her behind her back (but only when she’s being mean and even then almost always in jest cuz she’s actually super nice). But I wasn’t grumpy. I was indignant, which despite how it sounds is a more dignified thing to be … and stuff. “It is not acceptable for you to neglect your bear. She is your responsibility, and don’t think I can’t see you rolling your eyes through the back of your head.” Wow, she’s good. It’s like she knows me super well and stuff. “I take of you, Daffy. Imagine if I put you in the closet for months at a time. They’d take you away from me.” Well, that’s actually true. “But more importantly, neglecting bears is not a thing good girls do. Good girls take extra special good care of their bears. They show they love them every day. They take their bears places. Bears, Daphne, love Scooby Doo. Everybody knows that. Would it have been so hard for you to bring your bear downstairs to watch cartoons with you?” Did … did she just imply I’m not a good girl? Cuz if she did, so help me I’ll know she’s just teasing but it’ll still push my shame button. “Putting you bear in the closet is not nice, and good girls are nice to their bears. Good girls take care of their bears. Your bear,” Mary said before choking up. She’s such a great actress she even got herself going with the sob story she was telling. “Your bear,” she said after swallowing the lump in her throat, “you bear, Daphne Ann, has never … even been to a tea party. She’s never had her fur combed. She doesn’t … (sniffle) even have any pretty dresses to wear.” O god stop that! Stop! No sniffling! I can’t deal with Mary’s cry voice! She knows that! No, brain, my brain shouted at itself! “Your bear has been sleeping all alone … literally in a cardboard box without even a blanket. Good girls don’t do that their bears,” Mary said and barely managed to squeak out the last words. This is ridiculous! You do not feel guilty! Not today! You didn’t do anything and Mary is just pressing buttons! She ins’t even really sad. But she might be. uwu. But she isn’t! And don’t you uwu me. Don’t you dare uwu me! She is not sad! We did NOT make her sad. But can we risk it? What if she really is disappointed in us? She isn’t! You fall for this crap every time! Resist! Don’t let her win! “I know you’re just a very little little girl, but this is very very serious. You will be a good girl, and you will treat your bear the way all bears deserves to be treated, because that’s the only way my little girl is going to behave.” She sounds serious. She isn’t, brain! You know that! You’re the knowing side of the brain. I’m in charge of feels. So listen to the one who knows! No. Can’t risk it. Gotta be regretful and sad. Uwu. No uwu! No regretful and sad! Uwu. Dammit, brain, you f#$#@%* surrender monkey! Uwuuuuuuu! “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry!” God, I’m so pathetic for someone who isn’t pathetic at all. It’s hard being me. “I know you are, sweetie, cuz you’re just like me. You’d never do anything wrong or hurtful or mean on purpose. You are my sunshine. You and I share the same heart …” That kind of stuff might wow them at Hallmark but it doesn’t cut any … huh? what is this wetness on my face!?! No, dammit! Just spank me already and we’ll both feel better. Pleeeeaaasssse! “And it’s because I love you so much and want so much for you that I have to teach you right from wrong, even if it means giving you very hard and long spankings like the one you’re about to get. And when it’s all over, we’ll cry out all the bad feelings together, and you’ll be my bestest girl like I know you are. Are you ready for your spanking?” “(Sniffle) Yes please,” I meeped. Get it over with. Lemme have it good! Make the stupid not even deserved feels go away. She peeled my panties down to just below my butt, took a firm hold on my hip, and spank. I only let out a sob at the very first tap cuz my butt was so sore still. Really … and stuff. spank O geez. She’s gonna make you suffer through the longest warmup ever. She’s gonna torture me by dragging it out and making me wait for the catharsis part. “I’m very sorry you needed such a harsh spanking.” What the fudge muffin?!? Nooooooooo! “But (sad water buffalo) and I didn’t (sad wookiee) and I still (basically all the sad animal noises). Please give me a real spanking! I need it! I deserve it! And I need it pleeeaaasssse!” “That was a very big spanking for such a little girl.” “I’m not a little girl!” She just hauled off and … pulled me into her lap and wrapped her arms around me in as big a hug as she’s ever given me. “Shhh. You just let all those tears out. That’s the bad choices leaving your body.” “Marrrrryyy!” “I’m right here, baby. Your Mary’s right here. Your Mary’s is always here and always will be.” I choked on my sob just long enough for a moment of silence as my subby brain processed what she said, and I responded with a very dignified, “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Also, guilt trip much? I mean geez! “Awww, listen to those big little lungs of yours. You just scream and cry all you need cuz your Mary isn’t going anywhere until you’re all done.” “(Sputtering.) (Choking sobs.)” Oof. “That’s okay. You can wipe your nose on my shirt.” Wait, was I doing that? Didn’t mean to. Um … really. It’s not fair. She makes me cry all the time, and unless it’s the I’m-actually-sad or you-hurt-my-feelings kind of crying, it doesn’t even make her eye twitch. She sniffles cuz she’s telling a sob story that might as well have been Fido has never eaten food. Won’t you send five dollars to help us find him a forever home and my stupid, eager-to-please, I’ll-shut-down-before-I-disappoint-Mary, subby brain loses the ability to distinguish between actually disappointing Mary to the point of making her cry and Mary just pushing buttons like an unsupervised brat in an high-rise elevator. Once I’d finished fugly crying over my very real feelings of shame for how’d I’d treated an inanimate object and was merely down to sniffles and trying to make my diaphragm stop cramping, Mary, cooing and patting my back and, dare I admit it, rocking me told me how things would be different with my bear from now on. “This is partly my fault cuz I didn’t teach you how to take care of a bear. I just assumed you learned from your mom.” O my god leave her out of this or I swear I’ll make my first round of sobbing look like happy hour at the chuckle emporium! “I got you some of the things you need to get started.” “Like (snurfle) what?” O, shut up and stop playing along. I’m the rational side of the brain; you’re just around for feelings. Who needs stupid feelings! I think my brain was pouting. Can they do that? “Your bear is very smol like you, so I got her some very small diapers to wear. You’ll need to change her at least four times a day.” What is it with her and diapers? And is she heccin serious? Talk about wasting money. “And every bear should go to tea parties, so I got you a tea set. You and her have a standing lunch date once a week.” Okay, she definitely can’t be serious. “And I got her one outfit, but you need to get online and pick out seven more for her.” “Why seven?” “One for each day of the week plus one in case her diapers leak. And I expect to see you taking her places. At least one trip outside the house a week. Most stores don’t let bears inside, but she’ll be happy just to take a car ride, and you’d better buckle her in.” I’m just not doing that. “And she needs fresh air. Come springtime, you’ll take her outside when you’re playing in the garden.” It’s not playing! But … whatever, I guess. “And when we have movie night, she gets to come when the movie is appropriate for a bear so small. She even gets to pick sometimes.” In that case, she likes Deadpool and David Attenborough documentaries. “And she’s going to sleep in your arms every night. I even got the two of you matching jammies.” I will wait to see the jammies before deciding whether to refuse. “But I don’t wanna sleep with a bear.” “But that’s what bears need. She’s your responsibility. I don’t like spanking your bottom like I just did, but I do it because you’re my responsibility and you need it.” “But … fine.” “What?” “Nothing.” “Tell me.” “I can’t.” “Of course you can tell me.” “I mean I can’t sleep with her.” “Cuz you’re afraid your diaper will leak on her when you sleep wet? Cuz we can double diaper you at night. Problem solved.” I’m gonna leak on purpose one of these nights just to make Mary sleep in it for once. Hmmph! “She’s too small. There’s nothing to hug.” It came from the florist with some flowers! Last time Mary made me hug it, I might as we have been hugging myself. “O … I see. How would you feel if we found a new home for your bear with a little girl the right size, and we could get you a bigger bear?” “Okay on the first part.” “Daphne, do you even want a bear? Wuh? Excuse me!?! After all that she gives in? After all that? Fuhnominutter! Mother kernoshinator stumbleflunker ganawshifrumhauerhoffer and crap! Double crap!!! And stupid assing dammit all to kerninsplatter!!! All that for her to just give in? After all that!?! All!!! That!!! Mean! She’s mean? She’s mean, dammit, she’s mean! “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” I didn’t whine-shout. “I’m sorry. You need to speak up when you have something important to say.” O my god! Kiss my kernuhmoffer, Mary! “I know you don’t want your bear, but until we find her a new home, you still need to take care of her like you should’ve been doing all along.” Whatever. Whatever whatever what the crud ever. “So what would you like instead? A dolly? A bunny? A kitty?” No. O god no. Please no. Please don’t tell me she’s really not going to drop this. “I don’t want anything,” I whined and who can blame me. I went from the high of Scooby Doo to the low of whatever the hell was happening by way of friggin fugly crying. “But you’re a little girl. All little girls need a stuffy, and stuffies need little girls to protect. How about a nice puppy?” Watch this ladies and gentlemen. This’ll make her go awww and let this go. “I don’t need a stuffy. I have my hands full just taking care of my Mary.” “ … How about a monkey?” “Marrryyyyy!” “Aww, I’m just teasing my own little monkey. If you really don’t want a stuffy, you don’t have to have one.” Ha! I won … I think? Or … were we competing over something? Did she actually care if I had a stuffy? Did she buy any of that stuff she said? Of course not. She just saw a button to push and slammed her palm on it. Good thing it only cost me some hysterical fugly crying … I guess. Dignity intact … and stuff. Really. “And I’ll take care of you and chase away all the nightmares,” she promised. “I know.” “You cried so hard.” “Cuz you cried just a little. ‘Emotional Blackmail Mary’ is what they should call you.” “Who’s they?” “Them. Whoever. Big meanie.” “I can’t be that mean.” “You are.” “Then how come you’re snuggling into my shirt even more?” “Cuz I like it when you’re mean sometimes, and I like you all the time … and stuff. Even when you’re mean.” I swear I’m not a golden retriever; I just have the same needs for love, attention, and affection as one. “I like you all the time too and stuff, even when you slime my shirts.” “That’s what you get.” “What I get (kiss) is a little girl (kiss) who needs me to kiss (kiss) the tears away (kiss) and wash her pretty face (kiss) and tell her she’s pretty (kiss) and a good girl (kiss).” “Heehee!” She was just kissing all over me. The ones on my ear tickled. Also, I’m very grown up and stoic and independent and not easily swayed by words or kisses and don’t even need anyone’s approval of me but my own. Um, really. “Heehee. You always like it when I (kiss) kiss your ears (kiss). And you know what else I get?” “What?” “A little girl who wants to cling to me for the rest of the day. I like it so very much when you’re my little shadow koala-ing me all day.” “Me too.” “Wanna go wash your face?” “Yes please. And I have a headache.” “I bet you do. Your sinuses don’t even know what hit ‘em.” I leaned on my Mary all the way to the bathroom. “Mary,” I said, “if you really want me to have a stuffy, I’ll get one if it’ll make you happy.” What?!? Shut up!!! Dammit! I am not pathetically eager to please and easily guilt tripped. Really! … And stuff. “No, sweetie, that’s okay. I’d rather get you something you really like.” Thank goodness one of us is rational, sort of. Not really. But it works for us. We’re weird … and stuff. 18 Link to comment
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