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

[AndTheChips]

Pino like Pinot and also Megan Rapinoe because not only is she a badass athlete and feminist but also proud AF and gorgeous to boot. And it’s a cute name. 

[Alex Bridges]

I found a video of the sound Daphne makes when Mary calls her a good girl ☺️??

 

[thedman]

Bernadette, don't ask why because honestly I have no clue, as soon as I saw that pepper the name popped into my head. She can be Bernie for a cute puppy name

[Sarah Penguin]

name the puppy massive platypus

[Alex Bridges]

Puppy names still needed!

[dyperaby]

my suggestion for the puppy's name is, 'Underdog'.

[SolSombraYSoldados]

Miss Doggy Fantastico. (Fanny for short)

[Diaperdimensionfan]

As the owner of a pandemic puppy I hope they are ready for some fun and some trouble. Especially with Daphne's gardening and a puppy's digging potential. Good names for a female puppy that I have heard include Lucy, Daisy or Ginger.

[Jayme]

Bailey, don't know why but I saw the puppy and that was the first name that popped in my head

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #169

 

“Daffy,” someone said, very rudely interrupting my nap even if they were sorta softly singing my nickname. And not just my nap, but the puppy’s too. Doesn’t Mary know the puppy is just a baby and needs her rest? Which is nothing like me, an adult who needs her rest because, well, you need a lot of sleep in your thirties, for some reason.

“Hi,” I said.

“Come with me.”

“But I have a warm puppy on me.” True story. She was sleeping on me. I think she likes me, so I got two awesome women who like me. Maybe even like like me. Heehee! So it took exactly two weeks for me to get over being anxious about having a dog. We’re buddies.

“And we’re going to have a little talk about responsible puppy care.” Well, a ‘little talk’ is one of those phrases that snaps me out of the deepest stupor.

         Setting aside my well-founded reservations, I set the pupper down and followed my lovely wife to the kitchen. Here’s a secret for you – I love following her cuz, and I know this is a shocker, I’m a fan of butts. And yet when we reached the kitchen and she turned around, gone was the wakey-wakey-sleepy-girl face from which came the dulcet tone of her singing my name.

I can always tell when she’s irked cuz she makes her I-am-irked face. That, and the tone she uses when she’s gotten the ridiculous idea that whatever is irking her must be my fault. I mean, even when I am the thing irking her, it’s still not my fault. I even told her once that we can’t control other people’s behavior, only our emotional response, so if she was feeling irked, that was on her. That’s just facts. But they were not well received, and she did a helluva demonstration showing who can control what. Besides, I’m a ray of sunshine. How could I ever be irksome? Can’t. Really.

         “Daphne,” Mary said to me, “do you have something you want to tell me?” As a matter o’ fact, I didn’t, but when she asks me that, it’s very rarely a random question. Whatever she thinks I have to tell her, I’m better off just telling her something else entirely cuz sometimes she thinks very spurious things about who did what and what the consequence should be. Very spurious indeed.

         So I naturally, exactly because I am a ray of sunshine and care about her and knew it would help her to redirect her attention, responded, “Um, the Gay Men’s Choir is having their craft fair at Redwood Park this weekend. I thought we’d go look at stuff, get a hotdog.” Something about the park makes hotdogs taste better . And gay men and crafting? Fuhgeddaboudit. They make the best stuff. Plus it would be full of gay people, which is always eight kinds of fun.

         “Daphne, look down.” My eyes followed Mary’s the floor.

         O come on! How much can such a small dog pee so much?!? That’s the second time she’s peed inside just today!

         “Now tell me the truth,” Mary said with her faux earnest face on, “is that your puddle, or the dog’s?” She’s so friggin faux sometimes.

         But I’d heard that joke before. Several times. And I didn’t like it those times either. “Mary, I swear to god, you make that joke one time and I’m gonna launch my entire body at you.”

“And do what? The last time your tried to pounce on me, you just bounced off.”

“So now I know what not to do.”

“Try to be big?”

“Akdienfowsj, Mary!” Akdienfowsj indeed.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“It’s the dog’s! There, are you happy now?”

“I’m not happy at all. We need to get to the bottom of this right now.”

Ooo, so that phrase ‘get to the bottom’ is, uh, never good and often prelude to (bottom) stuff. And Mary sure did seem, all of a sudden, as serious as a very serious person (why are they always so serious? Lighten up!)

“Do you need me to show you how to clean it up?”

“Stupid rhetorical question,” I mumbled but not mumbly enough cuz Mary swatted my butt when I passed her on the way to the paper towels. At least she peed on the tile this time. I wiped it up, threw away the paper towels, and washed my hands, all under the watchful eye of Captain Mary Sour-Face. She was making way too big a deal out of this. Puppies have accidents.

“I’ll go take her out again,” I told Mary and got all of one step before Mary took me by the upper arm.

“Not so fast. We’re not done talking.”

She reached behind her to get something off the counter, which is when I said, “We don’t need the wooden spoon to talk!”

“We do for this kinda talk.”

“You can’t be serious!?! It was an accident!”

“The puppy had an accident. You were negligent.”

“In what possible f-(smack) ow!”

“Language, little girl. Do you wanna get your mouth washed out too?”

“No, but I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” Her Royal Butt Tenderizer pronounced like that heccin meant anything. She sat down on a kitchen chair, and then – get this – she just yanked my shorts and panties right to the floor. Who even does that? Spanking someone on their bare bottom? A very new and off-putting experience for me … and stuff. Really.

But if Mary wasn’t going to have any manners or dignity, I had dignity to spare. “Marrry! I didn’t do anything and this isn’t fair and you can’t spank me for something the dog did and I can too stomp my feet if I want to!” Super dignified … and stuff. Super really. Sigh …

Not like I was feeling insecure about the prospect of becoming the whipping girl for our puppy, but, ya know, let’s not ever let that come to pass.

“Are you done having a temper tantrum,” Mary asked me calmly. I wish just once she’d be the least bit perturbed by one of my righteous soliloquies, which she insists on referring to as tantrums.

“For now,” I didn’t pout with my arms crossed.

“Over my knee.”

“Make me!” Which she then did (with distressing ease). “That was rhetorical, Mary! I can be rhetorical too!” Like she’s queen of the heccin rhetoric or something. What the heccin heck?

“Daphne Ann, you will stop struggling, close your lips, and open your ears right now, or I’ll take you upstairs and spank your bottom with the hairbrush. Is that you want? … I asked you a question: is that what you want?”

O my god, one damn more rhetorical question. I gotta break her of that habit somehow. But I chose to just say (pouted, actually, but only because I’m ever so put upon), “No.” Btw, is it still a rhetorical question if she demands an actual answer? I say yes cuz the answer is so friggin obvious … or it would be if not for all the times I enthusiastically answered yes to that question … but those don’t count because reasons … and stuff. True story.

“When I’m working, you need to be watching the puppy more closely and taking her out to potty. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but she hasn’t had a single accident in the house when I’m not working.”

“But it was. An. Accident! You don’t spank people for stuff they don’t do on purpose.” It’s just not done in polite circles, but try telling that to Miss Mary Rude … Person whose lap I was splayed over. And actually, she is so damn classy, but in that moment, she was being quite the troglodyte. I’ve been meaning to have a talk with her about her manners, but I always remember at the worst possible moment to bring it up and then forget it in the ensuing chaos.

“If you had an accident on the floor, I wouldn’t spank you for it, just like I never spank you for the tinkle accidents you have in your diapers.”

“They’re not mine, and they’re not accidents!” … Hey Daphne, shut up. I’m begging you, who is me, to just shut up.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself, little girl, but you didn’t have an accident. The dog had an accident. You were negligent in taking the dog out.”

“That’s just mean. I take great care of our puppy.”

“Wonderful care of the puppy, but bad care of our floors. You’re getting a sore bottom, and you’re going to get another sore bottom every time the puppy piddles in the house. Let’s see if a red fanny will remind you to take her out.” And then with the spanking without even, ya know, a warning. What is even with her sometimes?

“I remem-ow!-ber. She stares – ow! – at me and then – ouch – comes insides and – eep! – pees on the -stop that! – floor! Stop it!”

“I decide when your spankings are over, little girl.”

“Well how ‘bout now?” Me, defiant? Never. Me, sassy? So rarely as to be all but nonexistent. Indignant? Heck yeah I was indignant, and I had zero intention of going down without a (verbal) fight.

And therein lies my strategic error – I brought words and logic to this fight, whereas Mary brought her physical prowess, feminine wiles, the almost mystical sway she holds over me, and that damn wooden spoon. I hate that thing! Mary can just flick that thing against my butt twice a heccin second without her wrist even tiring. It weighs like an ounce and a half. How can it pack so much wallop?!? Stingy little balsa bitch should stick to stirring stuff and leave my butt alone! But trying telling that to Miss Mary Spoon-Maiden. Which I did, and it went like this.

“Mary! Mary! Ouch. Stop! This is not what spoons are for!!!”

“Is that your way of telling me you want to get a special spoon just for spanking?”

“That’s not what I meant! Owie!” O my god. Just o. My. God. Daphne, did you really just say owie? What’s wrong with you today? Maybe it’s been too long since you got spanked. It’s just the spoon.

To which I say, shut up, Brain!

“Good,” Mary sassed me (can you believe she sassed me? Me!?!), “because the middle of a spanking is a terrible time to ask for a new toy.”

I’m telling ya’ll for real, Mary has highly selective hearing and/or a deviously motivated way of interpreting things. And the hypocrite (there – I finally said it!) has accused me of selective hearing more than a time or three. I mean, she was right some of those times. And the other ones, I heard and chose to ignore what she said but that’s not even the point because reasons.

“I think, little Miss Tiny Butt …”

“You ow take that ow back! Eep! I have a great butt!” It’s very shapely and womanly. One of the few curves on my otherwise slender body in which I still get mistaken for a twenty-something sometimes. And when I was a twenty-something, I got mistaken for a college student. And when I was a college student, sometimes on campus people asked me if I was lost and offered to help me find my mom. Dammit …

“I think,” Mary continued (know who loves to continue? Mary), “that it will go a long way helping you to behave if other people know you still get spanked.”

“Eep! Stop that! Eeeep! That stings!!!” My thighs! My poor thighs. “Those aren’t for spanking!”

“They are for spanking, and the spoon leaves such pretty red welts on the back of them. Everybody who’s ever wielded a spanking spoon knows what those look like, and you are officially forbidden from wearing pants until they go away.”

“That’s just mean! Mean! And I can wear what I want!”

“I can pull them down for a spanking just as fast as you can put them on.”

“Urgh!”

“All this backtalk I’m getting is telling me this spanking isn’t even close to getting through.”

I will not be silenced! But sometimes I will choose – as an agent of my own fate – to shut up. Which I did. Chose to. Very brave act. Really.

“Is that silence a sign of contrition?”

Like she’s gonna trick me into me in saying something. Doesn’t even work … anymore. She set the spoon down and rubbed my butt with some squeezing thrown in lagniappe. Like that makes up more than almost all the injustice I’d just suffered.

“Are you ready to talk some more,” she asked me like it was ever my idea to not talk. “Sit up for me … What’s this,” she asked when I sat up and faced her. Looked her right in the eye, too, cuz I’m afraid of her (actually kinda definitely hopelessly in love with her). She reached out and wiped a tear away with her thumb. O, the things she can do with her thumbs. “I spanked you to tears.”

“Tear,” I moped, “Singular. Just the one.” Like, geez, exercise a little humility and don’t be too proud of yourself. Excellent it’s just allergies cuz pollen. Really.

“You sound like a pouty princess. Are you gonna be a pouty princess?”

I hadn’t decided yet, but I took a moment to make up my mind. “… Hmmph.” Bet you can’t guess what I decided.

“Save some, because we’re not done yet.”

“Marrry! I don’t want any more spanking.”

“You didn’t want the first one, and if you’re a good girl …”

“Mary!” What the hell?!?

“Sorry. You’re always a good girl.”

Did you hear that? She thinks I’m always a good girl. She loves me and stuff. Sigh …

“If,” she continued, and I swear if she keeps continuing to continue … “If you remember to make choices like the good girl I know you are, there won’t be any more spanking today. Will you try extra hard for me?”

“Stop babying me,” I said to her as I – like an adult! – leaned forward and rested my head on her shoulder. I was quite vexed what with the spanking and the rubbing (and squeezing!) and the button pushing.

“If that’s what you want, sweetie. Let’s go get your diaper on.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Of course seriously. You know you always wet yourself after a spanking,” she actually said (grr!) as she led me by the wrist up to our bedroom.

I know nothing of the kind, and she knows I know nothing of the kind, and I know she knows I know nothing of the kind! That’s called slander, so I mumbled, “Slander.”

“What was that?”

“Slander,” I said clearly.

“That’s what I thought. Lay down on the bed.”

I did, and who should come into my field of vision? The furry little pee-anywhere anarchist whose fault this was! “Mary, close the door, she’s looking at me.”

“Such a silly girl.”

“Seriously, she’s laughing at me.” I wasn’t projecting my emotions onto a dog, by the way. Not me cuz that would be ridiculous and I’m the least ridiculous person I know. Really.

“Well, she does kinda look like she’s smiling. Aren’t you? Aren’t you smiling at your mommy and her little girl? Yes you are! A-yes you are!”

“Don’t encourage her. This is all her fault. Puppy, get her! Get Mary!” Can’t get her to pee outside, can’t get her to sic Mary. All very disconcerting for an all-powerful wonder woman like myself. “I don’t want her watching.”

“Daffy, you’re just going to have to get over that because we don’t keep secrets in this house. Do we? No we don’t. No we don’t keep secrets. A-no we don’t.”

“Stop talking to me like a dog … Or at least wait longer after talking to her that way.”

“Did that make you uncomfortable or jealous?”

“… No.” Mary’s o-really face with her right eyebrow climbing her forehead like Alex Honnold on a rock. As if!

“Where are my manners,” she said.

“Been meaning to ask you that for like, forever.”

“You’ve been laying there with your pink bottom on display probably needing to tinkle all this time, and here I am holding your diaper.”

“It’s been forty seconds.” And I did have to pee, but purely coincidental. I did just wake up from a nap, after all.

“Which is a very long time for a little girl to be holding her weewee.”

It’s distressing how quickly Mary can tape me into a diaper. That’s undoubtedly the result of practice, which is just so not cool. It wasn’t that long ago that when she put me in a diaper, she used the nursery cream and took her time with it. But however many assaults against my adulthood later, it’s gotten much more utilitarian. The cream is for special occasions and bedtime, apparently, not that I wear these things to bed very often … My life is weird.

“Sit up for me,” she said and helped me up, then sat down next to me and motioned for me to climb into her lap. Good thing I like it there or I would’ve … obeyed. Dammit.

“So here’s the thing, Daffodil. It’s been two weeks, and she isn’t any better at peeing outside than when she got here. So until she’s potty trained, you’re not potty trained either.”

“What!?! Kernoffler furnamuffin and that’s urterwingen and so gurstufirder and mean! Just mean!”

“Don’t look at it that way. Look at it as a chance for you to brush up on your own potty skills.”

O. My. God. Which, because I’m the agent of my destiny and brave and powerful, came out as, “(Whimper). You can’t be serious.”

“You can still use the potty for the other thing, but Daffy, if she has just one poopy accident in the house …”

“No!”

“So.”

“You are such a butthead sometimes.”

“You mad at me?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re snuggling in closer?”

“That’s one reason.”

“What’s the oth … you’re peeing on me.”

“(Silence) … I had to go when you woke me up.”

“You mean you’re not waking up to pee on your own anymore? Are you becoming a bedwetter?”

“Stopppp!” Keep pushing buttons and one of them is gonna get stuck like that!

“Are you feeling motivated to get the dog housebroken yet?”

“Shut up.”

“Gonna watch her like a hawk and take her out every twenty minutes?”

“Every ten.”

“Good girl.”

“Damn right, and you’re still a butthead.”

“Spanked little girls in wet diapies say the most emotional thing.”

“Eat farts, Mary.”

And then she kissed me! True story. She’s a chaos demon … a very pretty one I’m pledged to for life, which I’m heccin incredibly over the moon happy about, and I’d write more about it, but I need to go google how to potty train a dog in less than an hour.

 

[diaperboymi]

Awesome chapter!!!!!   Great work as always!!!  Thanks Alex ???????????

[Bel George]

On 5/1/2022 at 2:17 AM, Alex Bridges said:

Everybody who’s ever wielded a spanking spoon knows what those look like, and you are officially forbidden from wearing pants until they go away.

 

On 5/1/2022 at 2:17 AM, Alex Bridges said:

So until she’s potty trained, you’re not potty trained either.

 

On 5/1/2022 at 2:17 AM, Alex Bridges said:

“You can still use the potty for the other thing, but Daffy, if she has just one poopy accident in the house …”

 

That's a lot of things to look forward to. I hope Daphne will be willing to tell us all about it. My imagination is already running wild.

[Alex Bridges]

I know I’m not posting much, and it’s because I’m finishing up a very big work project, getting my garden ready, and preparing for a major surgery.

But the good news is I’ll have 3 weeks off from work and will try to write during that time provided I’m not in too much pain or too high from the meds ?

[dyperaby]

Take care of yourself first.  Looking forward to your next writing!

[BabyJilly_S]

Please take care and hope everything goes well

[YourFNF]

Best of luck!

[diaperboymi]

No worries.   Hope everthing goes well with the surgery.   Take care ??

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #170

 

“Daffy, you’re looking a little poofy pants.” Nana is just … like an older version of Mary sometimes. Whereas by contrast, i.e., difficult to see in the glare of the brilliant light I shine down across all my eyes survey, am always me. 

Except not exactly cuz if Mary said that, I’d have told her where she could go (nowhere; I like having her around, if only to reach stuff on the top shelves). But in the case of Nana saying it (and I thought my shorts hid it well, dammit!) I just turned tomato red and almost swallowed my tongue (and I don’t even like tomatoes!). Hmmph!

“Daphne isn’t potty trained,” Mary helpfully informed Nana. If she gets any more helpful I’m gonna need to talk with about being a less charitable person and stuff.

“Huh?” Exactly!

“Until the puppy is potty trained, Daphne isn’t potty trained.”

“Do you gotta tell all our secrets,” I hissed at Mary. “She’s gonna develop a bad opinion of you.” I was referring to the dog. I remind Mary frequently that the dog sees and hears everything. She’s gonna grow up thinking I’m the only one she can trust with secrets.

“Such a silly girl.” Can you believe she calls me names like that, and in front of the neighbor no less. Then, o hell naw, she reached over and gently lifted the puppy off my lap and into hers. I told her she should’ve gotten her own (shortly after we got it home following my years of saying I didn’t want one and only getting this one cuz she wanted it so badly … but still, should’ve gotten one of her own).

“And you still haven’t named her,” Nana asked.

“We can’t decide,” Mary replied.

“I can decide. I’ve decided several times.”

“Maybe more you can’t agree,” Nana commented. That would be the crux of it. “What names have you come up with so far.”

“Well, Ferris,” Mary suggested.

“She’s a dog. She doesn’t get a day off.” That was me. Nana would never be so mouthy. At least, not to Mary. To me, yeah, she can be quite the smart-aleck, which is kinda rude cuz I wanna be the smart-aleck and I got there first (despite being less than half her age).

“Super dog.” That was me, cuz this dog is so super! I’m obsessed with it, just not in the overly anxious, I’m-gonna have-a-panic-attack-any-moment way that I was worried about. I guess I’ve grown.

“I’m not standing at the back door shouting ‘Super Dog’ when it’s time to come in.”

“Why not? That would be pretty funny.” I’d tell people the dog’s name is John and that Mary’s just getting weird or something … as opposed to myself who’s been a smidge weird the whole time except for the fact I’m a hundred and ten percent normal and an example to all on how to be exceptional at it.

“I’m with Mary on that one,” Nana added. “Any other ideas, Mary?”

“I like Daisy. Daffodil and Daisy. Wouldn’t that be so cute?”

“I am the flower. You do not get two flowers.”

“What about Ducky,” Mary asked Nana. “Daffy and Ducky.”

But like I gave Nana a chance to respond to that ludicrousness. “Firstly, why a Looney Toons reference? Do we owe Warner Brothers money or something?”

“Cuz you’re looney,” Mary said when I wasn’t even done talking, and anyway, my alleged looneyness (looneyoscity?) is neither here nor there (cuz it’s everywhere despite my stellar normality, but still not the point).

“And second, what is this and you keep referring to? ‘Daffodil and Daisy,’ ‘Daffy and Ducky.’ Are you promoting the dog to spouse or demoting me to pet?” Damn I’ve been wanting to say that for days!

“Neither.”

“Then stop trying to pair her name with mine.”

“I think she has a very good point,” Nana chimed in.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Mary replied. “I was just thinking of what would be cute.“

Yeah, cute as in like playmates. The dog is not my sibling, and I am not her littermate.

“Daffy,” Nana said like someone’s mom interjecting to put a stop to an argument, “what are some of your other ideas?”

“Scoots.”

“Vetoed,” Mary practically coughed out. No one appreciates my sense of humor sometimes. But I’m still gonna call her that sometimes (the dog, not Mary, cuz I want my butt to live).

“What about Suzy,” I asked very nicely. They say when you ask nicely for things, you’re more likely to get them. And whudduya know? It worked.

“I like Suzy,” was Mary’s answer. “Do you like Suzy,” she asked the dog, who responded by wagging her tail but she does that literally every single time attention is directed at her in any form. “She’s ecstatic,” Mary pronounced. True story.

“Settled,” asked Nana, mediator extraordinaire (but good thing we’re not paying her cuz maybe more ordinaire than extraordinaire, which is not a knock on her so much as Mary’s and my positions were closer together than we let on).

“Suzy,” Mary enunciated to the dog (whose name is now Suzy, which I came up with, further solidifying that she’s really my dog first and loves me most, which I will tell her when she’s old enough to understand these things). Though I am starting to get a little [insert emotion thats not jealousy here] about how much time Suzy is occupying Mary’s lap. Mine. Not that I’m possessive or jealous or anything. Really.

“So Suzy is slow to house train,” Nana asked. “What have you tried? I was always able to potty train our dogs pretty quick.”

O, poor Nana didn’t know just how big a can of cats she opened with that offer to be helpful. I took it upon myself to tell her. “She is house trained. Mary just doesn’t wanna admit it cuz she won’t lemme out of her stupid diapers.”

“She is not,” was Mary’s rejoinder. Weak, Mary. So weak, so unlike you.

“She hasn’t had an accident in two days!” I wasn’t shouting. I was just being exclamatory. True story.

“Did you call them Mary’s diapers,” Nana asked. I think she was confused, which is Mary’s fault.

“They’re not mine. They’re hers. I just wear them cuz she makes me.”

“O … kay.” I detected some doubt in Nana’s tone. Hmm. Not sure what she could be confused about or what she may have been getting at.

“I just think we she should be safe. I don’t want any relapses.”

“She won’t.”

“I mean you not letting her out often enough.”

“I won’t, and I didn’t in the first place. She just wasn’t ready.”

I didn’t want to do what I did next. I didn’t even plan on doing it. I hadn’t ever even previously thought of doing it. But right then, sitting in that damn diaper that Mary owns listening to her bull plop reasoning she could barely get out with a smirk plastered to her face, I decided to tattle. Except, and this is a question for the philosophy majors out there reading my very private diary (still unemployed, huh?), is it still tattling if you totally make it up? Like, can you lie and tattle? Or is that just framing someone? Anyhoo, I just couldn’t help myself. After all, I’m allegedly looney and therefore blameless. Really.

“Mary’s only been changing me once a day.”

In my right ear, I heard a stunned scoff. 

In my left ear, I heard a woman of a certain age and then some go, “Mary Taylor, how many times have we talked about this? You can’t put her in diapers and then just let her sit in it. You think not putting the dog out enough is bad, well, what the heck are you thinking when it comes to her bottom? What if she gets a rash? I am disappointed in you. You need to take better care of her. If you were my daughter, I’d spank you like you spank Daffy right here in this yard, and then I’d put your butt in a diaper for a whole day and see how you like it and your age and hers wouldn’t even slow me down. Now, you get up out of that chair and go change her right now.”

Woah. What a telling off. Wasn’t really expecting that. That was, um, some reaction. So fun (if super embarrassing, a fair price to pay). Maybe too fun. Maybe, and tell me I’m crazy, only fun for me, judging by, o, say, the glare Nana was giving Mary and the glare Mary was giving me. Ruh roh, Suzy.

“Daphne Ann,” this red-faced woman I married whose is usually more of a sultry cream color said to me like she wasn’t very happy with my choices or something. Not sure why she wouldn’t be. Really.

“Don’t you get cross with her for telling me,” Nana shot back at Mary. Eep.

“Mae, I have been changing Daffy whenever she needs it, more like 5 or 6 times a day, and those diapers can hold way more than that comfortably. The only problem here is Daffy telling lies to get me in trouble cuz she thinks it’s funny.”

To my credit, I only thought it was funny when I thought to do it, when I did it, and for a very brief moment right after. As soon as that moment passed, I didn’t think it was funny at all … or maybe just a little.

“Daphne,” Nana said as she turned her eyes toward me.

Well, that would be my cue to exit. I’m not one to tell two lies in a row. “I’m gonna go let the dog out,” I said as we sat on Nana’s patio and enjoyed the out of doors. “In, actually. Heat’s not good for her.”

“I got a better idea,” Mary said like she’s ever had an idea better than one of mine. I mean, she has and often does cuz she’s, like, brilliant and stuff and I love her very much, but why would you even bring that up right now and you’re sposed to be on my side.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Just, ya know, as a reminder before she did anything she couldn’t take back.

“You want out of diapers, fine,” Mary said as she set Suzy down and stood herself up. My goodness but she’s tall and strong and stuff, not that I was intimidated. Never have been, in fact, except some of the times. And as for what she just asked, the answer was a resounding yes but not just right then what with not wanting to be naked in the neighbor’s yard. I’m very conscientious like that, very community minded and stuff … and things too.

“You’ll get out of diapers just as soon as we get home,” Mary pronounced as she helped me to my feet by way of taking me by the arm like I was in trouble or something. IDK what I might’ve done to get in trouble. Really.

She marched me to the wall, which is to say the siding on Nana’s house, and cuz Mary’s just not very polite, she smacked my butt on the way there and - so not cool even if we were in Nana’s backyard behind a fence which makes it as  private as our own private yard - yanked my shorts down. Like, there was a new experience after all these years. Corner time (siding time?) with no shorts but yes a diaper in the neighbor’s yard. Very low risk of being seen (if we’re not counting Nana, which I won’t, which just tells you how much my life has changed in a few short years - ugh), but not impossible if the person in the house behind looked out any of their many top-floor windows.

“You’re in timeout until our visit is over. You keep your nose on that wall and your hands at your sides, and I might march you home through the backyard and not go through the front, and don’t you plan on sitting comfortably for a few days.”

“But …” Which she mistakenly took as the signal to smack my butt again and shush me (as though there’s no talking timeout or something. Is that even legal at the international level?).

So here’s a thing, maybe. Mary gets not so very pleased with me when I suggest she do something she normally associates with submission, not unheard of for a domme and the reason why I don’t do it cuz she gets all I’m-gonna-assert-my-authority and my butt plays a prominent role in that assertion. So maybe since I’m the humiliation bottom and she’s the humiliation top, I could’ve foreseen how she’d react. Except I couldn’t because I had idea Nana was gonna threaten to spank her and put her in a diaper. Empty threats, but I guess let that be a lesson to me to now embarrass the humiliation top I married. If I’d suggested those things, I’d get spanked like a left-handed, red-headed, rented step-mule (and I’m only two of those things, but I won’t tell you which and you’ll just hafta guess).

And then Mary sat back down and turned on this really unsettling tone of voice as she said, “I’m so sorry, Mae. Sometimes I don’t know what gets into her,” like she was apologizing for a small child’s public misbehavior. As if! “I can assure you she’s getting quite the bare bottom spanking when I get her home. She’ll be a very sorry little girl. She’ll stop by to apologize tomorrow.”

Nana would never play along with that or countenance such an offense against my adulthood and honor. Mary just doesn’t understand Nana.

“No worries,” Nana told her. What the heccin heck, Nana? Seriously. “We’ve all been there. I can’t tell you how embarrassing mine could sometimes be in front of others.”

She always says that! Nana never had one of me! Not unless she was ever secretly married to a lesbian into erotic humiliation with an ageplay twist.

“And I’m sorry I flew off the handle like I did. I just care about Daphne very much.”

“I know you do, and I really appreciate everything you do for her. I can tell you right now, if Daffy is gonna make choices like that when she’s over here without me, I may just have to ask you to put her over your knee and redden her little fanny for her.”

Noooooo! I said silently from my timeout.

“She’d need to cross more than a few lines for me to do that, and you know I won’t ever tattle on Daphne …”

Score!

“… unless she really goes above and beyond with her naughtiness. And then I’ll be sure to let you know. Won’t be the first girl I’ve sent home with a note pinned to her sleeve. I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Did Nana just chuckle? Did Nana just heccin chuckle!?! 

Hmmph! Hmmph hmmph hmmph! HMMPH!!! ???

I am not a little girl! Really!

[Guilend]

Okay votes best chapter ever

[AndTheChips]

2 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

Scene #170

 

“Daffy, you’re looking a little poofy pants.” Nana is just … like an older version of Mary sometimes. Whereas by contrast, i.e., difficult to see in the glare of the brilliant light I shine down across all my eyes survey, am always me. 

Except not exactly cuz if Mary said that, I’d have told her where she could go (nowhere; I like having her around, if only to reach stuff on the top shelves). But in the case of Nana saying it (and I thought my shorts hid it well, dammit!) I just turned tomato red and almost swallowed my tongue (and I don’t even like tomatoes!). Hmmph!

“Daphne isn’t potty trained,” Mary helpfully informed Nana. If she gets any more helpful I’m gonna need to talk with about being a less charitable person and stuff.

“Huh?” Exactly!

“Until the puppy is potty trained, Daphne isn’t potty trained.”

“Do you gotta tell all our secrets,” I hissed at Mary. “She’s gonna develop a bad opinion of you.” I was referring to the dog. I remind Mary frequently that the dog sees and hears everything. She’s gonna grow up thinking I’m the only one she can trust with secrets.

“Such a silly girl.” Can you believe she calls me names like that, and in front of the neighbor no less. Then, o hell naw, she reached over and gently lifted the puppy off my lap and into hers. I told her she should’ve gotten her own (shortly after we got it home following my years of saying I didn’t want one and only getting this one cuz she wanted it so badly … but still, should’ve gotten one of her own).

“And you still haven’t named her,” Nana asked.

“We can’t decide,” Mary replied.

“I can decide. I’ve decided several times.”

“Maybe more you can’t agree,” Nana commented. That would be the crux of it. “What names have you come up with so far.”

“Well, Ferris,” Mary suggested.

“She’s a dog. She doesn’t get a day off.” That was me. Nana would never be so mouthy. At least, not to Mary. To me, yeah, she can be quite the smart-aleck, which is kinda rude cuz I wanna be the smart-aleck and I got there first (despite being less than half her age).

“Super dog.” That was me, cuz this dog is so super! I’m obsessed with it, just not in the overly anxious, I’m-gonna have-a-panic-attack-any-moment way that I was worried about. I guess I’ve grown.

“I’m not standing at the back door shouting ‘Super Dog’ when it’s time to come in.”

“Why not? That would be pretty funny.” I’d tell people the dog’s name is John and that Mary’s just getting weird or something … as opposed to myself who’s been a smidge weird the whole time except for the fact I’m a hundred and ten percent normal and an example to all on how to be exceptional at it.

“I’m with Mary on that one,” Nana added. “Any other ideas, Mary?”

“I like Daisy. Daffodil and Daisy. Wouldn’t that be so cute?”

“I am the flower. You do not get two flowers.”

“What about Ducky,” Mary asked Nana. “Daffy and Ducky.”

But like I gave Nana a chance to respond to that ludicrousness. “Firstly, why a Looney Toons reference? Do we owe Warner Brothers money or something?”

“Cuz you’re looney,” Mary said when I wasn’t even done talking, and anyway, my alleged looneyness (looneyoscity?) is neither here nor there (cuz it’s everywhere despite my stellar normality, but still not the point).

“And second, what is this and you keep referring to? ‘Daffodil and Daisy,’ ‘Daffy and Ducky.’ Are you promoting the dog to spouse or demoting me to pet?” Damn I’ve been wanting to say that for days!

“Neither.”

“Then stop trying to pair her name with mine.”

“I think she has a very good point,” Nana chimed in.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Mary replied. “I was just thinking of what would be cute.“

Yeah, cute as in like playmates. The dog is not my sibling, and I am not her littermate.

“Daffy,” Nana said like someone’s mom interjecting to put a stop to an argument, “what are some of your other ideas?”

“Scoots.”

“Vetoed,” Mary practically coughed out. No one appreciates my sense of humor sometimes. But I’m still gonna call her that sometimes (the dog, not Mary, cuz I want my butt to live).

“What about Suzy,” I asked very nicely. They say when you ask nicely for things, you’re more likely to get them. And whudduya know? It worked.

“I like Suzy,” was Mary’s answer. “Do you like Suzy,” she asked the dog, who responded by wagging her tail but she does that literally every single time attention is directed at her in any form. “She’s ecstatic,” Mary pronounced. True story.

“Settled,” asked Nana, mediator extraordinaire (but good thing we’re not paying her cuz maybe more ordinaire than extraordinaire, which is not a knock on her so much as Mary’s and my positions were closer together than we let on).

“Suzy,” Mary enunciated to the dog (whose name is now Suzy, which I came up with, further solidifying that she’s really my dog first and loves me most, which I will tell her when she’s old enough to understand these things). Though I am starting to get a little [insert emotion thats not jealousy here] about how much time Suzy is occupying Mary’s lap. Mine. Not that I’m possessive or jealous or anything. Really.

“So Suzy is slow to house train,” Nana asked. “What have you tried? I was always able to potty train our dogs pretty quick.”

O, poor Nana didn’t know just how big a can of cats she opened with that offer to be helpful. I took it upon myself to tell her. “She is house trained. Mary just doesn’t wanna admit it cuz she won’t lemme out of her stupid diapers.”

“She is not,” was Mary’s rejoinder. Weak, Mary. So weak, so unlike you.

“She hasn’t had an accident in two days!” I wasn’t shouting. I was just being exclamatory. True story.

“Did you call them Mary’s diapers,” Nana asked. I think she was confused, which is Mary’s fault.

“They’re not mine. They’re hers. I just wear them cuz she makes me.”

“O … kay.” I detected some doubt in Nana’s tone. Hmm. Not sure what she could be confused about or what she may have been getting at.

“I just think we she should be safe. I don’t want any relapses.”

“She won’t.”

“I mean you not letting her out often enough.”

“I won’t, and I didn’t in the first place. She just wasn’t ready.”

I didn’t want to do what I did next. I didn’t even plan on doing it. I hadn’t ever even previously thought of doing it. But right then, sitting in that damn diaper that Mary owns listening to her bull plop reasoning she could barely get out with a smirk plastered to her face, I decided to tattle. Except, and this is a question for the philosophy majors out there reading my very private diary (still unemployed, huh?), is it still tattling if you totally make it up? Like, can you lie and tattle? Or is that just framing someone? Anyhoo, I just couldn’t help myself. After all, I’m allegedly looney and therefore blameless. Really.

“Mary’s only been changing me once a day.”

In my right ear, I heard a stunned scoff. 

In my left ear, I heard a woman of a certain age and then some go, “Mary Taylor, how many times have we talked about this? You can’t put her in diapers and then just let her sit in it. You think not putting the dog out enough is bad, well, what the heck are you thinking when it comes to her bottom? What if she gets a rash? I am disappointed in you. You need to take better care of her. If you were my daughter, I’d spank you like you spank Daffy right here in this yard, and then I’d put your butt in a diaper for a whole day and see how you like it and your age and hers wouldn’t even slow me down. Now, you get up out of that chair and go change her right now.”

Woah. What a telling off. Wasn’t really expecting that. That was, um, some reaction. So fun (if super embarrassing, a fair price to pay). Maybe too fun. Maybe, and tell me I’m crazy, only fun for me, judging by, o, say, the glare Nana was giving Mary and the glare Mary was giving me. Ruh roh, Suzy.

“Daphne Ann,” this red-faced woman I married whose is usually more of a sultry cream color said to me like she wasn’t very happy with my choices or something. Not sure why she wouldn’t be. Really.

“Don’t you get cross with her for telling me,” Nana shot back at Mary. Eep.

“Mae, I have been changing Daffy whenever she needs it, more like 5 or 6 times a day, and those diapers can hold way more than that comfortably. The only problem here is Daffy telling lies to get me in trouble cuz she thinks it’s funny.”

To my credit, I only thought it was funny when I thought to do it, when I did it, and for a very brief moment right after. As soon as that moment passed, I didn’t think it was funny at all … or maybe just a little.

“Daphne,” Nana said as she turned her eyes toward me.

Well, that would be my cue to exit. I’m not one to tell two lies in a row. “I’m gonna go let the dog out,” I said as we sat on Nana’s patio and enjoyed the out of doors. “In, actually. Heat’s not good for her.”

“I got a better idea,” Mary said like she’s ever had an idea better than one of mine. I mean, she has and often does cuz she’s, like, brilliant and stuff and I love her very much, but why would you even bring that up right now and you’re sposed to be on my side.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Just, ya know, as a reminder before she did anything she couldn’t take back.

“You want out of diapers, fine,” Mary said as she set Suzy down and stood herself up. My goodness but she’s tall and strong and stuff, not that I was intimidated. Never have been, in fact, except some of the times. And as for what she just asked, the answer was a resounding yes but not just right then what with not wanting to be naked in the neighbor’s yard. I’m very conscientious like that, very community minded and stuff … and things too.

“You’ll get out of diapers just as soon as we get home,” Mary pronounced as she helped me to my feet by way of taking me by the arm like I was in trouble or something. IDK what I might’ve done to get in trouble. Really.

She marched me to the wall, which is to say the siding on Nana’s house, and cuz Mary’s just not very polite, she smacked my butt on the way there and - so not cool even if we were in Nana’s backyard behind a fence which makes it as  private as our own private yard - yanked my shorts down. Like, there was a new experience after all these years. Corner time (siding time?) with no shorts but yes a diaper in the neighbor’s yard. Very low risk of being seen (if we’re not counting Nana, which I won’t, which just tells you how much my life has changed in a few short years - ugh), but not impossible if the person in the house behind looked out any of their many top-floor windows.

“You’re in timeout until our visit is over. You keep your nose on that wall and your hands at your sides, and I might march you home through the backyard and not go through the front, and don’t you plan on sitting comfortably for a few days.”

“But …” Which she mistakenly took as the signal to smack my butt again and shush me (as though there’s no talking timeout or something. Is that even legal at the international level?).

So here’s a thing, maybe. Mary gets not so very pleased with me when I suggest she do something she normally associates with submission, not unheard of for a domme and the reason why I don’t do it cuz she gets all I’m-gonna-assert-my-authority and my butt plays a prominent role in that assertion. So maybe since I’m the humiliation bottom and she’s the humiliation top, I could’ve foreseen how she’d react. Except I couldn’t because I had idea Nana was gonna threaten to spank her and put her in a diaper. Empty threats, but I guess let that be a lesson to me to now embarrass the humiliation top I married. If I’d suggested those things, I’d get spanked like a left-handed, red-headed, rented step-mule (and I’m only two of those things, but I won’t tell you which and you’ll just hafta guess).

And then Mary sat back down and turned on this really unsettling tone of voice as she said, “I’m so sorry, Mae. Sometimes I don’t know what gets into her,” like she was apologizing for a small child’s public misbehavior. As if! “I can assure you she’s getting quite the bare bottom spanking when I get her home. She’ll be a very sorry little girl. She’ll stop by to apologize tomorrow.”

Nana would never play along with that or countenance such an offense against my adulthood and honor. Mary just doesn’t understand Nana.

“No worries,” Nana told her. What the heccin heck, Nana? Seriously. “We’ve all been there. I can’t tell you how embarrassing mine could sometimes be in front of others.”

She always says that! Nana never had one of me! Not unless she was ever secretly married to a lesbian into erotic humiliation with an ageplay twist.

“And I’m sorry I flew off the handle like I did. I just care about Daphne very much.”

“I know you do, and I really appreciate everything you do for her. I can tell you right now, if Daffy is gonna make choices like that when she’s over here without me, I may just have to ask you to put her over your knee and redden her little fanny for her.”

Noooooo! I said silently from my timeout.

“She’d need to cross more than a few lines for me to do that, and you know I won’t ever tattle on Daphne …”

Score!

“… unless she really goes above and beyond with her naughtiness. And then I’ll be sure to let you know. Won’t be the first girl I’ve sent home with a note pinned to her sleeve. I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Did Nana just chuckle? Did Nana just heccin chuckle!?! 

Hmmph! Hmmph hmmph hmmph! HMMPH!!! ???

I am not a little girl! Really!

Soooo good. Being talked over/about like that pushes all of the buttons for me, I imagine Daphne isn’t completely miserable over there. 

[WBDaddy]

As a humiliation top, I just gotta say, I had a sudden impulse to slap the floor with my foot repeatedly over all that itch-scratching. 

[diaperboymi]

OMG...I love this story.   Nice try Daffy ?  She'll need a pillow to sit on for a while now ??

[Alex Bridges]

My surgery is today! Wish me luck.

[diaperboymi]

OMG...Good luck Alex.  I hope everthing goes well ??????

[Bel George]

Good luck Alex.