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

[Alex Bridges]

Found a picture of Daphne sitting on Mary's lap

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #175

 

 

         “I don’t think you appreciate that sometimes the things you say are mean.” There, I said it.

“Daffy,” Mary tried to say, but nope, I was having none of it.

“Seriously, Mary.”

“Daphne Ann, all I said was take a bite of your vegetables.”

“There you go again! We’re on vacation. Give it a rest.” Ooo, Mary’s you-are-this-close-to-taking-a-trip-to-the-restroom-with-me face. Been a while since I got spanked in a public restroom or in public at all, but something about being on the road where no one knows us and there’s a convenient highway getaway makes Mary very quick to spank.

“Daphne,” she said sorta firmly, like I’d pushed the wrong button or something. I didn’t though. Brats push the wrong button, and I’m not one of those. But I digress, because Mary who loves to continue continued, “The rules still apply on vacation. We go over this every time, and every time ends the exact same way: me running out of patience and you getting seriously spanked on Day 2. Do we really hafta do that again?”

Good thing it was Day Zero. We were on our way to the lake; we stopped for lunch at place that serves green stuff. I’m okay with some green stuff, like a single piece of lettuce on a sandwich or a salad with yummy things in it or raw veggies and dip, but steamed veggies are just … flavorless mush? If you’re lucky, that is; otherwise they’re just bitter mush.

“I don’t know,” I told Mary, which was very honest of me. I have moral fiber and rectitude and stuff. “I’ve been very good lately, and I’m not sure yet if I’m gonna be well behaved … It’s not like plan it out in advance.” Well, not very far in advance. Heehee!

“What does you being good recently have to do with whether you behave this week?”

“I might decide I need a break from being good. It’s a lot of work for me, Mary. I mean, I’m saintly and stuff, but it takes a lot of forbearance. You should hear the things I don’t say! … You’re giving me your not-impressed face.”

“Tell ya what, Daffodil. This time there won’t be a big spanking on Day 2.”

“Aww, how sweet of you!”

“This time if you can’t make good choices, you’ll find out what a diaper punishment is really like.”

Well color me concerned. And Mary nodding with her smirking you-better-believe-I’m-serious face. So … crap.

“If I finish my vegetables, may I eat yours too?”

“You’ll be my baby for a whole week.”

“May I order more vegetables?”

“You’ll drink out of a baba.”

“There’s the waitress. I’ll just get her attention.”

“Baby food twice a day, and of course you’re too baby to feed yourself. I’ll get one of those rubber coated baby spoons so you don’t hurt your toofers!”

“She’s not a very good waitress. How did she not see me?”

“Cuz you’re little, sweetie. Too little to ride up front. We’ll put you in the back, buckled in all tight.”

“Maybe the people at that table aren’t going to finish their vegetables.”

“I’ll have to hold your hand everywhere.”

“I’d like that, actually.” I mean, yes please. Mary’s hands are basically therapeutic devices for me.

“And diapers diapers diapers. Daytime diapers, nighttime diapers, and you’re favorite – swim diapers. I’d remind you they don’t hold weewee, but neither do you … cuz you’re baby.”

“We’re only two hours from home. I think I may have left some vegetables in our fridge. If we turn around now, we could …”

“And no bathroom except for baths.”

“Should’ve packed some vegetables. Did you pack any vegetables?”

“You’ll make the cutest red faces when you fudge your huggies.”

“Mary, I’m begging you, please stop.”

“And we’ll get you changed right on the beach. No one cares if a baby gets their diapers changed in public no matter how messy their bottom us. And we’ll wait a little while to make sure you’re done. Wouldn’t wanna hafta wipe your bottom twice in ten minutes.”

“Okay, that’s just gross. Please stop talking.” How am I supposed to finish food when she’s talking about … blech!

“I’ll rent a crib and playpen from the resort. We’ll set the playpen up outside. If you make stinky pants and I just don’t feel like dealing with you right then, I’ll just put you in the yard. Like stinky puppy.”

“Nana would be livid to hear you say that.” True story.

“And we’ll give you a bath every night and when we come in from the beach.”

“I was gonna ask for that anyway.” And I wasn’t blushing! The plain, steamed, seasonless vegetables were just, uh, spicy. Really.

“And you’ll be so cute in your water wings and your floatie.”

“Okay, but now seriously, could you please?”

“And I might need some alone time after caring for such a needy baby all day and night, so I might hafta hire a babysitter.”

“… Would … Would we find this babysitter on Fetlife?” Asking because reasons.

“O shoot. I just remembered I didn’t bring any toys with us.”

“We packed a backpack full of toys … O. You didn’t mean that kinda toy.”

“You wanna stop at a toy store?”

“I thought we were going already to get some water toys.” Rafts. Specifically the kind with cup holders cuz we had plans to drink frozen alcohol drinks and float.

Mary got our waitress’s attention, not that I was irritated about her paying attention to Mary and not to me. Hmmph!

“Are we ready for a check,” I asked Mary. I certainly hoped so and that Mary wasn’t waving her over to increase do that thing where she embarrasses me in front of people we’ll never seen again. It’s very rude to those people (for real) even if she does keep it PG-13. I did finish my veggies, by the way. They were terrible, but they probably came out of the ground that way.

“We’re ready for our check,” Mary said. “Which way is the restroom? My little girl needs the potty.”

“(Sound of me not making any sounds as my jaw dropped).” They probably heard the blood rushing through my veins as I blushed all the way to the top of my head.

“It’s … right that way?” That was a fair response from our waitress. She had this look on her face as if what she really wanted to say was ‘your what now needs the where now?’ So … could on her for catching herself.

And Miss Mary Owes-Me-Bigtime just couldn’t let it drop. Nope. “Can you hold it five more minutes, or do you need me to come with you right now?”

“ … Muh?”

I think that was very articulate of me considering how little blood was actually getting to my brain. I really hope Mary left her a heccin good tip. And she owed me so big.

[diaperboymi]

Hahaha...poor Daffy just can't catch a break ????   Loved this.  Give me Vegetables ????

[Guilend]

?????

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #176

 

I’m a lake girl. Don’t get me wrong - the ocean is great. But my heart belongs to freshwater (and Mary). Bear Lake isn’t Lake Michigan, but it’s big enough you can’t see the far shore, and the beach is wide and sandy. Mary gave me carte blanche to book any vacation rental I wanted, and I chose a house across the street from the beach (we’re not beachfront-rich … or any other kind of rich, which is such a bummer. Haven’t I earned it?).

We got there Saturday afternoon, had some trouble getting the key lockbox to work, had an early dinner while some person from the rental agency went and pried they heccin thing open, and settled in.

We could rent a condo. It’s just the two of us, and vacation rentals are always huge and meant to sleep 14, but the thing with condos is those shared walls and the shenanigans Mary and I get up to and the neighbors … The last time we rented a condo, we were, um, asked to not come back to that building. Not all of that noise was me, btw. O, to be in our twenties again (wistful sigh).

So we had a house, two stories with a porch on both levels and something like nine beds. Mary suggested we make use of each one, and I blushed because I’m very easily embarrassed by these things. I’m innocent and … stuff. Really.

The only downside to staying in a house, or a condo, and not a resort is there isn’t a restaurant right there. We’re also not private-chef rich, which would solve that problem very well, and neither were we think-far-enough-ahead-to-order-groceries-online smart that week, which meant we had to go to the grocery store Sunday morning. In a vacation community of Saturday-to-Saturday rentals, do you know what the grocery stores are like Sunday mornings? Bedlam! Chaos! Crazytown USA! Woodstock ‘99! So unpleasant that even Mary the Pious was okay missing zoom church so we could go early.

And I was out of bed even before Mary. Showered, dressed, a fully functioning person ready to be seen in public. I’m like an celestial body: visible at that hour only once every seven or so years.

“Mary,” I called out over the shower she was taking, “I’m gonna go walk to the beach. Text me when you’re out of the shower.” So that I could be back by the time she was dressed and ready to leave. And you know what Mary said? If you’re patient, I’ll tell you.

“Okay.” That’s what she said.

I like the way sand feels first thing in the morning. Cool and damp. It’s like the beach hasn’t woken up yet. The breeze was gentle, and the water was calm, small waves lapping quietly onto the shore. Seabirds. A few early risers walking or jogging and one guy fishing. I am not an early riser, but I like to think I blended in with them, for I am a shadowy super spy who can camouflage herself amongst the unsuspecting and expecting alike. Very smooth, totally suave, always on guard, ready for anything, in complete control of all events. Really.

SMACK! 

“What the ….” SMACK SWAT.

“What are you …” SPANK!!

“I told you not to go far,” said some crazy lady who said no such heccin thing to me. Me! A sane person who did not! Go! Far! 

Caprice! Impulsiveness! Pervsity both notorious and public! Public! As in a public beach with people on it!

That crazy lady grabbed me by my elbow and spank marched me most of the way to the boardwalk! Which goes to the beach! The public beach! Which is in public! And had people on it!

It’s a good thing I’m cool as a cucumber in a yeti or else I’d have probably sputtered, “What but hey what crazy you mean random nulrson! Big bully!”

“I already told you the rules apply on vacation, and it’s not safe for a girl like you to wander away. You know better, and you disobeyed me anyway. What happens when you disobey?”

“Marrrryyy!”

SPANK!!

“Ow!”

“You earn a spanking. Just wait til I get you back to the house and over my knee. You’ll think you were sitting bare bottom on hot sand by the time Mrs. Hairbrush gets through with your butt.”

“Who the heck is Mrs. Hairbrush?!?” I was caught off guard, okay? There was confusion and lots of noises, most of them from me, plenty from Mary. I still think I was the more coherent of the two of us. Really. For one thing, I wasn’t living in a whole other reality where she told me not to go anywhere. Hmmph!

“But I didn’t do anything,” I whined in a very righteous, very non-whiny way as we approached the front door. In fact, it was more of a righteous bellow. Eloquent, actually. Really. For I am the embodiment of eloquencioscity.

“Back talk is a very bad idea right now, little girl.”

And then we were inside the house, and Mary spun me around and pushed me against the wall right next to the door and … stuck her tongue in my mouth and went to second base.

For the official record, which I keep and so everything I say is the official version which history will preserve (though some things I rather not preserve), I didn’t for a moment think she was at all serious. I wasn’t caught by surprise. I didn’t sputter nonsense. I didn’t whine or plead. I didn’t for a moment think Mary was really going to spank me. Not counting all those spanks I got on the beach and one or two or twelve up the boardwalk and across the street and one really hard one on the porch. Those don’t count because reasons (and you’re not allowed to know them).

“Mar mmm. Mary mmm. Mary! Give a girl some air!” And then she backed off and just smiled at me. A big, derpy smile because Mary, and never me, is derpy. We’ll see who’s derpy smiling when I’m through with her! 

“What the (jackhammer jackhammering) on the beach and (tornado tornading) in front of (asteroid hitting the earth and not a moment too soon)! People saw, Mary! Nerple fruunehopper and yousudipperningen standing there with your derpy smile and feeling me up like some kind of aqwersive mooglesnoofer! Hmmph! … And get that derpy smile off you face!”

“Or what? What will my little girl do I don’t get this smile off my face?” A wolffish, aggressive, derpy smile now.

“I’ll … I’ll fuss! I’ll fuss so … heccin … hard that you’ll wish I … That I didn’t fuss so heccin hard.” Dammit.

“Aww, is my little girl fussy?”

“Marryyy! People saw!”

“Only three, and they weren’t very close.”

“It was more than three!”

“Only three saw, Daffy. I was discreet on our way back to the boardwalk. Just little underhand spanks to keep my little girl marching.”

“Underhanded thunderspanks,” I grumbled. That’s when I noticed what she had in her pocket. I’m usually very good about noticing things, especially things happening to my butt cuz a spanko like me has a sixth sense I like to call butt sense which isn’t very clever but means exactly what it says, but I was sensing so many sensory experiences that I guess I just didn’t notice she was spanking me with the hairbrush paddle. That sorta aggression will not stand.

“You came looking for me with a paddle!?! That people could see?!?”

“Once upon a time, women would waltz right into the neighborhood hairbrush in hand to discipline their little girls and boys no matter who saw. I’m very traditional,” she fibbed. There is nothing traditional about our lifestyle. For examples, read everything I’ve ever written in this diary that you shouldn’t even be reading because it’s private and stuff.

“Mary!” I was gonna say something else, really tell her off, but that was all I could think of … at first. And then I thought some stuff I didn’t wanna say.

Alas, Mary is a good noticer. I mean, I’m better and nothing escapes my attention, but she’s Al pet as good. She notices things like, o, say, my eyes flitting up and to the right as if I’m thinking about something, and my lips turning into a tight little smile while I smile about something. And Mary, being my soulmate, knew what that something was. Dammit …

“Aww, what’s the matter now? You thinking about how I came looking for you paddle in hand to scold you and spank your bottom in front of whoever was there?” I hate it when she’s right about this kinda stuff. 

She took a step forward into my personal space - so called because it’s directly around my person - and put her thigh between, um, things of mine and, uh, moved it in, um, a way that involved movement.

“Are you thinking about those people who heard me say you were gonna get a bare bottom spanking over my knee for wandering away like a naughty little girl? This knee right here,” she said and emphasized it with a … gesture of said knee.

“Hhhh!” That’s a word. I wasn’t just making involuntary sounds like some person responding to certain emotions and sensations. I have so much more self control than that. Really.

“They probably think that’s what you’re getting right now, my paddle across your naughty little bottom. Do you think they’re picturing it? Your shorts around your ankles? Your little feet kicking furiously? You arching your back and trying so hard not to cry? When they picture it, do you think they picture a true redhead, or smooth as a baby down there? I bet they picture you crying and whimpering, begging for your spanking to be over. Do you think they went home and told their friends and family about the little girl they saw spanked right on the beach? Do you think any of them are gay and have new ideas ideas about how to handle their own willful little girls?”

“Mmmary.”

“If you cum in your undies, little girl, you’ll be in diapers until tomorrow morning.”

Like I’ve ever done that or let me her put me in diapers before. Puh-lease. Um, really … and stuff.

“It was - uhhh - still - mmm - wr-wrong to - hhh! do.”

“That’s why I did it so early when fewer people would see. But some still saw, didn’t they? They know you’re a little girl who still gets spankings. They’re probably picturing your red bottom oN display, all the modesty spanked out of you, as you sit in my lap and cry into my shoulder. Imagine what they’ll say when they see your red bottom peeking out around your bathing suit this week ‘That’s the girl, the one I told you about. She must be such a handful. Good thing she has that tall brunette to teach her right from wrong. … Your knees are wobbling. Why are they doing that?”

I can hold it. Don’t let her win. “Mar-Mary. Mary. Groceries. Gotta go, no crowd. Pl-please?”

She relented, and she’s not one to relent (unless I ask, cuz she likes me and respects me and stuff). “Can I feel your underoos?” What? Heccin now she asks permission?

“But no touching me.” Cuz one touch and … Did I win? If no one has an orgasm, did anyone win? And how come Mary never cums in her panties just from teasing and touching? Not like I don’t try! And it’s not cuz I’m little and she’s not! So shut up! Hmmph!

“Daffy,” my ocean mistress said with her hand in my shorts, “did you wet your pants?”

“No,” I said quietly cuz I’m not a loud person, not because I was feeling smol and submissive. Me? A submissive? Um, never. Really.

“But your undies are all wet.”

“Yeah.” I mean, the woman wasn’t wrong.

“O well,” she said like we just had to get over it and move on cuz wet panties just happen to girls like me, which they don’t … except for sometimes … but not the way we meant (pretended to mean?) … so I’m clearly right … about something but forget what it is. 

“We’re already running late, Daffy Dewdrop. You’ll just have to go to the store in wet underpants again.”

“Okay.” Wait, ‘again’? Bullplop! I should’ve said so. I had so many words to say that they all got stuck trying to come out. Really. Mary didn’t render me barely verbal. She has no such power over me.

“And Daphne, you’d better be on your best behavior at the store. The paddle is in my purse. I’d hate to have to take you to the girl’s room for one of our discussions.”

“Eep.”

“And I will be spanking you on the beach this week.”

“Where?”

“On your bottom, silly goose.”

“No, where?”

“We’ll find somewhere private. Now, come along, my little angel. We need to get you some pull-ups if you’re gonna get your undies all wet like that, and you need some swim diapers before you can get in the water.”

“Not funny.”

“Am I laughing?”

“Mary.”

“Daffy.”

“Please no?”

“Yes please.”

“Are you gonna be mean to me all week?”

“Only in the very nicest ways.”

Well, that’s a relief. Sort of. We’ll see.

[kerry]

I must have died and gone to heaven! Another Daffy-Mary chapter! (Dary? Maffy? Marfy? Hmmm...)

[diaperboymi]

That was Amazing!!!!!!   I just love how how Daphne fells to pieces ????????

[YourFNF]

Damn it.... Ended just as I was.... about to.... Things... Happen

*hides my face and shame*

 (gods I swear Daphne and I could be sisters) ??

[Alex Bridges]

On 6/19/2022 at 7:52 AM, diaperboymi said:

That was Amazing!!!!!!   I just love how how Daphne fells to pieces ????????

What?!? Daphne never falls to pieces. If she heard you say that, she'd probably turn all the shades of red and call you a hurperhumper snoozledorfer.

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #177

 

Splish-splash we were taking a … Not a bath. More like trespassing. Yep, that’s the right word. Trespassing.

We made it a short day, had an early dinner, went to bed super early (thank you, melatonin!), and got up at one of those hours that you could argue either way was very late or very early. Why did we do this? So we could go pool hopping … nakedly.

If you’ve never been, pool hopping is when you go to pools you don’t have access to. Like for instance, the neighborhood we were renting in had a pool, and we could go to that one. But the next neighborhood over, we could also go to but only if we hopped a small fence or otherwise got past the gate. It’s easier in the daytime cuz there are people there and you can just be like, ‘oops, I forgot the code’ and people will let you in cuz they’re all renters this time of year and wouldn’t care even if they didn’t believe you. But daytime with the clothes and the whole ‘no nakeditity’ thing is just so ugh.

So we went to bed early, got up arguably late or arguably early, got on the bikes our rental came with and pedaled in search of pools to hop. 

We’re not really naked-in-public kinda people. We didn’t so much plan that part as … planned for the possibility of it. Which is different, somehow. 

I was wrapped around my Mary for warmth, keeping my body underwater from the neck down to protect myself from the breeze. “I forgot how cold it can get here at night,” I remarked cuz brrr. Not bad if you’re not all wet, but if you are, brrr.

“I love running my hands through your wet hair. And (kissing) your wet forehead.”

“Cuz you like me.”

“I do. I’ve decided to keep you.”

“You decided that a long time ago.” True story. She even told me so. She said, I’m keeping you, and I asked, You are, and she said, Mhmm, and I exclaimed, Squeee! 

Actually, I think I got overcome with feels and cried happy tears nestled in her arms.

“Yeah, but I have to reaffirm the decision every twelve months. It’s the law.”

“Whose law? … Now you’re nibbling on my ear cuz you just made that up and don’t know what to say next.” I know from trying-to-change-the-subject ear nibbles, cuz I do that too sometimes.

“Tell me the story again,” I asked Mary. More of an order, actually, cuz I’m the boss. Really.

“You know the story.”

“But I wanna hear it again.”

“Once upon a time, in a land on the other side of the city from where we live now, a friend convinced me to go to a party I didn’t really wanna go to. She said I’d have fun and that it didn’t matter if it was the end of the week and I was tired, that you sometimes just hafta party.”

“What kind of party was it,” I asked knowing exactly what kinda party.

“A spanking party. That’s where people who like to spank can play with people who like to be spanked, all in the safety of friends. I didn’t really feel like playing though, so I chatted with people and figured I’d been there long enough to not feel guilty about leaving early …”

“You should never feel guilty about leaving early.”

“Easier to know than do, little miss. Who’s telling the story here?”

“Go on. Who’s stopping you,” I giggled.

“And then I heard that giggle.”

“What giggle?”

“The same one that just came outta you.”

“It’s an attention grabbing giggle.” And I don’t even do it on purpose. Not vivacious exactly. More of charming giggle … sometimes I snort.

“It grabbed mine. I looked around the corner, and I saw this petite redhead with a pixie cut across the lap of a woman I’ve known for a long time who goes by Tiny.”

“She is so butch. She has hands like a big rig mechanic.” I well remember that part of the story.

“She is a big rig mechanic, and those hands were playing slap-and-tickle with the redhead’s butt.”

“Hence the giggling.”

“Is this an interactive story, or do I get to tell it?”

“(Silent shrug),” I silently shrugged.

“So I asked my friend what the redhead’s name was, and she said she didn’t know and that Kristy invited her. And my friend knew from the way I was looking at that bouncy little redhead that I wanted to take her home.”

“Take her home and do what with her?”

“She was so little, I was gonna take her home and put her on a shelf.”

“Marrryyy! She wasn’t that petite.”

“O really?”

“She hadn’t shopped in the junior Miss department for almost a decade … and then she met you.” Now she shops there not often but not never. Grrr.

“But,” Mary said and tapped my nose. OMG nose taps, amiright? “But I was nervous about approaching her.”

“Fibber.” Mary? Nervous? I don’t believe it.

“Really! She was so cute and sexy and so way out of my league.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was. She could’ve had her pick of anyone in the room. She could break hearts. You should’ve seen what she was wearing.”

“Something super slutty?”

“Something super innocent. She had on white socks that stopped at her ankles. The cleanest white socks I’d ever seen. And she had on a white cami that left her shoulders mostly bare, and such collar bones on display. I wanted to feed her something.”

“Was she really that skinny?”

“She was slender. And graceful … in an overexcited, wobbly knees sort of way from having so much fun. And why shouldn’t she be having so much fun with all the people there wanting to play with her?”

“But what else was she wearing?” Gimme the details!

“Plain white undies.”

“Like a bikini cut?”

“Nope.”

“A thong?”

“Just regular panties, just as clean as her socks and making her look so scrumptious and innocent. And the way her cute pink bottom was peeking out from under those undies.”

“So did you just look, or did you talk to her?”

“I was too nervous to talk to her.”

“Then how did you meet her?”

“Well, it seemed like she was playing with everybody.”

“You’re making her sound like she was

easy.”

“It wasn’t a very big party.”

“That’s mostly better.” Better enough, anyway.

“And since everybody was playing with her, I thought, maybe she’ll let me play with her.”

“But you didn’t ask if you could play with her?”

“I took a chance. I figured if so many people were playing with her, and she’s only just met most of them, she might be alright if was a little presumptuous.”

“A lot presumptuous.” She’s such a presumer.

“I moved on an armless chair a little further in the room sort of in the circle of people, and I sat down, and as she was walking by, I snatched her right off her feet and put her over my knee.”

“Why over your knee?”

“She’s been over so many knees, I just assumed she really liked it.”

“The old assume-and-snatch. Who spoke first?”

“I did. I said, ‘Hi.’”

“You put your elbow between her shoulders, rested your chin on your hand, smiled with all the confidence in the world, and said, ‘Hi.’ You were so smitten.”

“Was not.”

“You were so the smitten kitten!”

“If you know the story so well, what did the redhead say?”

“She said, ‘Hi.’”

“With a squiggly smile on her face. She was one who was the smitten kitten.”

“She was mostly intimidated by the tall brunette who just grabbed her off her feet. She should’ve gotten up and slapped you silly.”

“Then why didn’t she?”

“Cuz the party was vetted, and she saw her friend across the room looking at her, and her friend didn’t look worried … and also, alcohol and butt endorphins had lowered her inhibitions.” And actually, far from worried, that friend looked jealous. At the time, this redhead hadn’t ever made anyone jealous in her whole life. True story.

“Any other reason?”

“The brunette was pretty hot.”

“Even though she came straight from work and looked like a programmer stereotype?”

“Sexy nerd vibes. And then you accused her of being naughty.”

“She was getting spanked by so many people, I just figured she must’ve done something naughty to deserve it.”

“She has a very spankable bottom. She’d been nothing but well behaved and has been ever since, but you didn’t believe her.” True story … Nor fibbing. Really.

“I didn’t.”

“And you guys had just met! So rude. You asked the redhead if she knew what fibbers get, and the redhead practically dared you to show her.”

“She was so spunky.”

“High spirited … And a little tipsy, you then you showed her what fibbers get.”

“How’d did I do that?”

“You spanked the redhead good. So good there was hardly any of her bottom left for the other guests. Again with the rudeness.”

“And then I put my elbow back between her shoulders and rested my chin and looked at her. She wasn’t the least bit upset. In fact, she looked pretty blissed out.”

“She was pretty happy with how the evening was going, despite the rudeness. She complimented you on your spanking skills, and you just said, ‘I know.’ Arrogant and rude.”

“Little bit.”

“But the redhead just thought how confident you are. You just scooped her off her feet and smacked her butt. Confidence is so sexy.”

“And I had no intention of letting that redhead off my lap.”

“Nope. She asked, and you said no. Again with the bad manners, and you said you wouldn’t let her up cuz you wanted her to talk to hang out with you for the rest of night.”

“I didn’t wanna share her.”

“Again with the bad manners.”

“It’s bad manners to point out someone else’s bad manners,” Mary pointed out to me without even noting the irony. I mean, c’mon Mar.

“I’m just telling the story, adding a little commentary to make it more interesting.” I am a raconteuse, after all.

“But I did let her get up.”

“After she promised to hang out with you more.”

“Was it a hardship for her?”

“Not so much.”

“I didn’t think so. She was flirting with me pretty hard,” Mary said. Maybe she even believed it. Maybe she was even right.

“You had her trapped! Of course she was flirting with you, trying get your guard down and make her escape.”

“But she kept flirting even after I let her up. She didn’t try to get away even a little. I flipped her over in one motion and sat her on my lap. She was so teeny!”

“Not so teeny! You’re just so tall and strong.”

“We talked for a long time.”

“But you didn’t ask her back to your place?”

“Nope.”

“Why not,” I asked.

“Cuz that’s not what I wanted from her.”

“So what did you want?”

“I just wanted her to like me and like being with me. Do you think the redhead would’ve said yes if I asked her to go home with me?”

“Honestly? No, but she’d have been tempted. Her childhood priest warned her about temptation, but that’s not why she would’ve said no.”

“Then why?”

“One thing to go over a stranger’s knee at a spanking party, and a whole other thing to go between a stranger’s knees after. She wanted you to have a good opinion of her.”

“I would’ve either way, but why would she care what I thought?”

“Because she wanted you to like her too. She wanted to get to know you. She’d never met someone who could be so charming and presumptuous and nice at the same time.”

Though it’s not like this anonymous redhead had some proclivity for tall, strong, dominants who just, ya know, are presume. I mean, Mary wasn’t exactly being rude or taking liberties. That redhead had been over just about every set of knees in the apartment. So not exactly off base for Mary to assume this redhead was just passing her butt around … which we’re going to agree to agree she wasn’t. Really. She wasn’t just playing hard to get when she when she sassed; that was real sass. Really.

Though one could maybe also accurately but we’ll call it speculatively say she wasn’t playing hard to get from the moment she walked in the door. But she for sure wasn’t giving off I-wish-someone-would-just-put-me-over-their-knee-already vibes to every top in the room. Um … really … Did I mention already she was a little tipsy?

“I did ask her out,” Mary said.

“And she accepted.”

“I was so relieved. I was still so nervous.”

“She never would’ve believed that. She would’ve guessed that you’d never been nervous in your whole life.” I think I read somewhere that psychopaths never feel nervous. Anyhoo …

And Mary continued telling the story, “And when I went home that night, I was so excited that I’d get to see her again. What do you think she did when she got home?”

“She texted her friend Kristy, the one who’d invited her to the party, back and forth like high school girls until Kristy must’ve fallen asleep.”

“I’ve never been so glad someone changed my mind about going to a party before.”

“Mary, can I tell you a secret? That redhead? That was me.”

“Ha! I’ma (kiss) kiss you for that.”

“Can I tell you something else? When I played with people before you, they never sat me in their lap afterwards.”

“Never?”

“Mmm-mmm. I didn’t even know I wanted to sit in someone’s lap until I sat in yours, and …” I did that thing where I blush and shake my head and I’m not doing either of those things on purpose (cuz sometimes I do that on purpose).

“What,” Mary asked. She really wanted to know. I could tell because Mary was making her please-tell-me face. I pick up on these things. I’ve very empathic.

“It’s embarrassing,” I demurred.

“Tell me anyway.”

“Uh, when I was sitting in your lap, and we talking for, like, almost two hours, you kept your arm around my waist the whole time.”

“I did?”

“Mhmm. And if you took that arm away, you put the other one around me.”

“How do you remember that?”

“Cuz I thought how sweet it was. You were making sure I didn’t fall off, and you didn’t even realize you were doing it. You were protecting me.”

“(Mary making that sound you make when you catch a sob in your throat).”

“I liked that. I liked that a lot. That’s why I said yes to a date with you. It so sweet, like you wanted to protect me and you’d only just met me. Just saying.” You know me, just saying. But true story. I’ma go cry now … and I’m back.

“And you sat on my lap and and went from shy to sassy to talking so excitedly about everything, and it made you seem so fun. That’s why I wanted to take you on a date and not just back to my place, because I wanted to keep having fun with you.”

“Do you still have fun with me?”

“Daffy, it’s 4:30 in the morning, and we are trespassing naked.”

“You’re right. Sorry I’m so boring.”

“Such a smartalecky little girl I have.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“Maybe not, but I’m gonna dry you off, get your suit back on you, and then we’re gonna go sit on the beach and watch the sunrise.”

“Mary? Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re my little girl.”

 

______________________
BTW, the 3rd anniversary of the first chapter Mary and Daphne’s story is this Wednesday, June 29. It’s so surreal to realize I’ve been writing their story for 3 whole years ?

Sigh … I love my Mary and Daffy ?

[kerry]

I don't know what to say to this other than "AWWWWWWWWWW!" 

It is so wonderful to see the moment they met in such detail after three years (!!!) of having them in my life. Thank you!

[diaperboymi]

OMG...i got a little misty eyed at the whole chapter and it being your 3 year Anniversary.   What a truly Wonderful story this is.   Happy Anniversary Alex????  Mary and Daphne too ????????

[Baby Toni38]

Happy anniversary. 

I cannot believe it has been three years that we have been reading Daphne's story.  What a great ride it has been. 

 

Thanks

 

[YourFNF]

17 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re my little girl.”

 

[Sarah Penguin]

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #178

 

 

            Ever intend to do something sneaky and right as you’re about to do it, you get the sense of being watched? Like if you were to tilt your eyes upward, you would see an eye looking back at you? Like Sauron’s eye just watching you?

As I slithered up the bed in which my sleeping beauty was snoozing and laid my cheek on Mary’s chest, I sense I’d been caught. Looking up, not at all chagrinned or blushing, there was the one eye. Not that Mary only has one eye like Sauron does, but only one was open which really accentuated the vibe of suspicion she was giving off.

“What are you doing,” she asked me. Reasonable question. Did I also mention I’d pulled the covers back to expose a, um, Mary? Cuz I didn’t, and I will deny I did and no one can prove the covers didn’t shimmy down during her nap.

“I, uh, was gonna wake you up so we could go to dinner at seven like you said.” See, I was obeying her, actually. If I had my way, dinner would be served every hour from one to nine, but Mary says we only need one dinner and that she wanted it on that day around seven. I’m a good rule follower. Mary must agree with my assessment of my rule-following abilities cuz she smiled at me. Not that I’m basically a golden retriever or nothing, but when she smiles at me I do a little happy dance inside and no, I’m not obsessed with her to the point of being a love-sick teenager either.

“Well,” said to me, “what if I pretend to go back to sleep and you can do whatever it was you were gonna do?” She is such a good problem solver! And I’m not a fan girl who believes Mary can do no wrong and is great at everything. It’s just that I’m very in love with my wife and you’re jealous and how did you even get a copy of my diary? Pervert. But anyhoo …

Mary and I can read each other’s minds sometimes, and she musta read mine cuz she scooted herself up to pretend to sleep sitting partly up. That makes it so much easier for me to wake her up by, what’re the words I’m looking for here … putting my lips around her nipple and doing stuff to it with my tongue.

“Mmm. Aheehee!” It’s not so easy to make some dominants giggle like schoolgirls, but I can make my Mary do that and more. I mean, she thinks I’m hilarious (which she’s correct about), and also I can make her cum just by teasing her nipples. I’m so talented at so many things that I think it’s time I start introducing myself as Daphne Taylor, Polymath.

“Good girl” is what Mary called me. Not that I’m basically a Labrador or nothing, but if I had a tail, I’da been wagging it. Also, my says I’m a good girl. Squeee! Must be a very good girl cuz she reached over and pulled me close so she could – and I’m inferring this from subsequent context – put her hand between my legs and stroke my thighs and do that thing where she just reaches between then, plants her hand on my butt and just holds it. Almost like she owns it or something, but she just has permission to use it however she wants. One might even say she’s encouraged to use it however she wants.

Cumming just from having my nipples played with is not one of my talents (so maybe I’m not a polymath after all? nope, I am), so I couldn’t say if it’s more powerful than the standard path to orgasm that is deeply rooted in our nation’s history and traditions. I can say, however, that Mary prefers I don’t touch her down there when I’m sucking on her nipples. She wants that o single-sourced.

“Ooo! Daphne Ann, no biting or I’ll sp-spank you-r b-b hhh!”

She always says that. Every single time. Not once has she ever done it. And somehow I’m the one gets accused of doth protesting too much.

I’m the only woman who has ever made Mary do that. I’m quite proud of that, so it was with some smug satisfaction, after, that I asked Mary, “Am I better than any alarm clock?”

“By far. Hold still.”

“Why? What’re you gonna do to me,” I may have said in my please-do-something-to-me voice. Talk about setting yourself up for disappointment. All she did was pinch the back of my diaper and look down it. Dammit …

And o yeah, she’d put one of her diapers on me before we took our nap Double dammit …

“All clean.”

“Of course it is, meanie,” I said with authority. Didn’t pout, and if someone says I did, they are telling a lie to you. Don’t associate yourself with lying liars who tell lies when they’re lying.

“So many clean diapers, it almost makes me think you must be backed up. Hmm? Do you need Mary to give you an enema so you can fill your diapie?”

“Marrrry!”

“Heehee! Clean but not dry.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I’m not blaming anyone, sweetie. Especially a little girl I know who just can’t help herself.”

“You put it on me almost as soon as we came in from the beach.”

“I heard the word ‘almost’ in there. Sounds like you decided not to go straight to the potty when we got back. Haven’t we talked about you needing to go straight the potty after we’ve been out so you don’t have an accident?”

It's very hard to stand up for yourself or even get upset with her teasing when you’re laying against her bare skin and she’s running her fingers through your hair and using her firm-loving-kindness voice. Also, ya know, when you like to get teased. If only I didn’t also not like to get teased, I’d wouldn’t have done any of the mental or physical squirming I did or pathetically whimpered, “We never talked about that.”

“Maybe you just forgot. You’re so little, and little girls forget sometimes. That’s why their wives have to be patient and remember how small they are.”

“Gaslighting,” I muttered. “I’m not small, and I’m not a little girl.”

“It wasn’t a very long nap. You couldn’t hold it for an hour? A big girl could.”

“Hmmph.”

“That was a very weak hmmph. I think someone know I’m right. Now tell me the truth, did you wet your pampers before or after you got in bed?”

“I won’t lie to you, Mary.” That’s it. That’s all I said.

“I think that means both.” She patted the part of me that’s not quite my front but isn’t quite my back. We’re both big fans of that part of me. “And now I think it was maybe more like before, during, and after. You got a heavy diaper!” Yeah, but so uncouth to say so. I mean, I never mention  the time she … nope, not gonna mention it. But it was all over the sheets. I was so proud of myself that I made her do that. True story.

“Be nice to me”, I reminded her.

She rolled over and took me with her, as she is wont to do and has no trouble at all just moving me around like a doll. I’m not tiny. She’s just freakishly strong while maintaining an almost slender figure that belies that she could just tear me apart with her bare hands … I love it when she does that.

“I think,” she said while trapping me underneath her, “that you (kiss) need (kiss) kisses (kiss kiss kiss) all the way down (kiss) to your (tummy).”

Not that tummy kisses make me turn into a very biddable puddle, but also a little bit yes.

“You want out of your diaper?” To which I nodded. “Because you wet it?” To which I didn’t not nod. “Let’s see again how wet.”

I don’t know what made Mary think she should tell how wet my diaper is by snoofing it, and also, where did that new and interesting behavior come from. But I she could certainly feel it, and feel me she did.

“What would you say,” Mary asked me, “if I told I’d let you out of that wet diaper, but only after you rubbed it against my leg until you came?”

I don’t think we’ll ever know what I’d say because, according to Mary cuz I think I blacked out for a second, my eyes just got big and I put a pillow over my face. I just … needed a minute alone.

But I didn’t get more a couple seconds cuz Mary pulled the pillow away in her don’t-you-wanna-be-my-good-girl voice said to me, “What’s the matter? Don’t you wanna desperately hump my leg until you make cummies in your pampers?”

I had an answer to that, but I never got to say it because Mary gave me. two swats to the outside of my thigh, chuckled, and said, “Just teasing. We’re gonna be late for dinner. C’mon; let’s get in the shower.”

“(Sound of me blinking.)”

And off she bounced like a naked person on her to take a shower, leaving me on the bed wondering how serious she was and why my body once again betrayed me by responding as though I liked the … idea of … being … which I didn’t like … at all. Really … DAMMIT!!!

So there I was sitting on the bed with a pillow in my lap trying to remember where I was and what my name is when Mary popped her head back around the door.  

“You coming?”

“What!?! Pshh! Pfft! Phsaw! Not even!” Like geez, Mary – flatter yourself much? The ego on that woman. And the hips on her too moving her across the room toward me.

“Are you coming to the shower?”

“ … I knew that. Really.”

Mary waited, I think for something to happen, before asking me, “Like, now?”

“O! Sure.”

I got off the bed. I was ready to take a shower. And there was Mary just standing there staring at me. What was she waiting for anyway?

“Daffy, do you need me to fuck you in the shower?”

“Yes. That is a thing I need.”

“Well let’s go then, you silly goose.”

And she's so romantic too!

[Guilend]

I think she’s backed up.  Totally needs an enema to help fill her diapers.  I’m totally a doctor that says that about all the girls. 

[Sarah Penguin]

[diaperboymi]

Awesome chapter!!!!!!  These two are so much fun ?????????

[kerry]

On 7/3/2022 at 2:26 PM, Alex Bridges said:

the standard path to orgasm that is deeply rooted in our nation’s history and traditions.

Yes, Justice Alito...  ?

On 7/3/2022 at 2:26 PM, Alex Bridges said:

“Daffy, do you need me to fuck you in the shower?”

“Yes. That is a thing I need.”

“Well let’s go then, you silly goose.”

Best. Conversation. Ever.

[SolSombraYSoldados]

On 6/25/2022 at 1:09 PM, Alex Bridges said:

“Mary? Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re my little girl.”

 

I had a lot to catch up on with this story! And then this chapter made me cry. Are you happy, Alex? 

Because I am!

 

That was super sweet and awesome. ❤️

[Alex Bridges]

16 hours ago, SolSombraYSoldados said:

I had a lot to catch up on with this story! And then this chapter made me cry. Are you happy, Alex? 

Because I am!

 

That was super sweet and awesome. ❤️

I’m pretty happy ?

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #179

 

 

            Everyone hates when vacations end. Mary, for instance, hates when vacations end because she has to go back to work. I, for another instance, hate when vacations end because Mary has to go back to work.

I don’t think I’ll ever puzzle out how it can be that when you’re not working the days can fly by so fast but you can still be bored, but after years of not working, I still get bored. Not on vacation, though, and not because it’s a new place with more things to do, but because I have Mary to play with or even just sit next to. I tried doing that at home, but it somehow wasn’t the same just sitting next to her in her office (it was actually powerfully boring).

One day left in our vacation, and I didn’t wanna go home. I was very mature about it though. I didn’t grump or get in a bad mood or take my feelings out on … dammit.

“Are you packed yet,” Mary asked me. She’s so Type A. Like I couldn’t just throw my stuff in my bag the next day, drive four hours back home, and then dump it all into the washer. It was going to end up in the washer when we got home whether I folded it or not.

“No. I’ll do it later.”

“It’s almost dinner time. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Exactly. We have all evening and the morning.”

“We’re leaving by eight.”

“Yeah. I can get it done before then. I’ll get up an extra twenty minutes early … Stop looking at me like that. I can too get up early.” I mean, obviously I can. I did it just a few days prior when I got up even before Mary. Now, getting up early on purpose is like climbing a mountain with another mountain on your back, but I can surely do it. Probably.

“Why don’t you pack right now and have an extra twenty minutes to sleep in?”

“Mary, just …” I stopped because I recognized her be-ever-so-careful-with-what-you-say-next face. It’s her way of telling me without telling me I should be ever so careful with what I say next.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Mary told me. She can a sphinx when it comes to what she’s thinking, or she can telegraph it like a professional telegrapher.

“Urgh! Fine. I’ll go pack.” Not because I gave in, for the record. I just acceded to her suggestion to make life easier. I was told later that everything about my body language between the couch and the stairs screamed sulky teenager. I disagree. It was more of a groan than a scream.

Of course, once I got to the bedroom, I discovered a flaw in Mary’s ‘it will only take a few minutes’ logic: there’s a bed in the bedroom. As far as furniture goes, beds are so much way better than couches. I mean, they’re just the best. I’m a fangirl for beds.

I knew if I sat down on it, it was game over. When it comes to beds, I have a weak core; if my butt cheeks touch the bed, I would almost certainly just tilt over into one of the laying down positions (laying down positions are the best; total fangirl) and probably end up scrolling on my phone. I resolved to put the suitcase on the bed and keep myself off it.

But I have weak resolve sometimes. Truly it is rare as I am abstemious in my appetites and determined in my aims as all paragons of the virtuous life are. Yet paragons of the virtuous life are also human, and of all the paragons, I am the best at being human. Very humble of me to say so (which is also a virtue; just sayin’). True story.

Hence I was found on the bed next to an empty suitcase. In my defense, I was being very human, which is to say alternating between scrolling and staring at the ceiling. I was being so human, I didn’t even look toward the door when Mary came in or turn my eyes toward her when she stated, “You haven’t even gotten started.”

“I got distracted.”

She sighed her exasperated sigh – ya know, the one she saves for when she’s exasperated, often by the choices I’ve been making – but nonetheless offered to help me. “I’ll help you,” she said. She’s very helpful.

“Kay.”

I probably – maybe, possibly, it’s a thing that coulda happened – could’ve been a little less rude there. I admit this. I’m a paragon of admitting my own mistakes and flaws. Really.

“Scooch,” was Mary’s ever patient response as she moved the suitcase out of her way, nudged my legs and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me so she could put the back of her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you getting a flare-up?”

“What? No.”

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

That made me at least look up from my phone. Probably shouldn’t have; it just made it that much worse when I said, “Mary, would you please just chill? Alright? Just …”

I would one day like to capture on video how she can toss me over her knee no matter where we are in relation to each other. I was lying down, she was sitting by my knees, and my legs were behind her, and before I could even get out the next syllable, my head was at the opposite end of the bed, and my whole body was in front of her, sprawled across her lap. She’s a ninja or a sorceress or a teleporter because the physics and biology of how even does that … friggin ninja sorceresses.

SPANK!

“Because I haven’t packed my suitcase yet,” I incredulously exclaimed by way of demanding to know why I was about to get spanked.

“Because of your attitude. I have no idea what has gotten into you, but I’m gonna spank it outta you, and then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you so much that you’re being such a pill today.”

“I AM NOT! I wanna be OW! Stop it! I OW!”

“Up.” I got back on my feet. And if you’re thinking she calls that a spanking, no. No, she doesn’t.”

“No,” was my very clever and well-reasoned response to her attempt to unbutton my shorts. She can usually pop that button with just one one hand, but she needed both because I, well …

“You keep your hands at your side,” Mary said with way more calmness that I deserved. She turned me sideways and landed a couple of her signature thunderspanks on the back of my thighs before turning me back toward her. “You know better than to try to stop me from taking your pants and undies down, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I didn’t whine. I also didn’t try to stop her again, and down came my shorts and panties. But I did give her about 1% resistance to being put back over her knee. I didn’t mean to. I swear.

“Over, Daphne Ann.” I think she was spanking me before I even got all the way across her lap. Good on me for clenching my throat shut while she wailed at my butt and made it very clear to me, “You had better hold still, or so help me …”

I didn’t hear the rest. I was too busy focusing on the injustice of it all. I’m allowed to be in a bad mood if I wanna be.

SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

I’m allowed to pack my suitcase last minute.

SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

I’m allowed to be a total bitch to my wife who was nothing but reasonable and patient even while I was being bratty and rude.

Actually, wait a sec …

SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

This isn’t injustice, said me in my head. This is justice, said me to me in my head. And then Me 1 and Me 2 agreed on a proper course of action:

We should cry pretty hard.

Yes, it will make us feel better.

And express our remorse.

So it is agreed.

We shall cry.

Very hard.

Very, very hard.

Let us commence.

“M-M-Marrrrryyyyyyy I’m sorrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy! Waaaaahhhhhh!”

I’m not such a fan of that onomatopoeia, but you get the idea. I made ows and ouches, eeps and meeps, grunts and groans, boos and hoos, and sobs and so many tears.

“What bee is in your bonnet today? You know better than to cop an attitude and take it out on me …” SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK! “… Nothing but back talk since breakfast …” SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

 “…I did nothing to deserve the way you’ve treated me today…” SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK! “…Is this how you want to end our nice trip?” SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

I did my very best to explain myself. “Meemee-mee (distressed chipmunk noises) and didn’t mean (distraught capybara noises) and futternuusin (ashamed hippopotamus noises).

SPANK SMACK WHAP SLAP SPANK!

“Is that enough,” she asked me. SPANK!

“Eeee!”

“Do you need me to get the hairbrush?” SPANK! SPANK!

“Neee!”

“Are you ready to talk to me about what’s bothering you?” SPANK!

“Yeee!”

SPANK! “Okay, up you go.”

Scooped up off her lap so I could sit in her lap, put my head in her shirt, let her rub my back, and do some more crying while she cooed at me.

“Shhh. You’re okay.”

“Yarrry!”

“What was that, baby?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

“I eedn’t meebemeatuyu.”

“Take a breath and tell me again.” I always forget the breathing part, and Mary always reminds me. We complement each other’s skills.

“I didn’t mean to be mean to you.”

“I know. I know you didn’t. Shhh. Try to catch your breath.”

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one sobbing with the cramping diaphragm and freely flowing nose.

“Can you try telling me why you were in such a bad mood?”

That’s easy. “Cuz I don’t wanna go home.”

“Neither do I.”

“You have to go back to work. I … (sob sniff snort).”

“What?”

How pathetic is this? “I miss you when you’re at work.” I’m the most mature person ever, for the record. I can miss my person when she’s away for just a few hours and express my impending sadness by taking it out on her and it’s not at all childish and doesn’t make me any less mature … and stuff. Really.

“Daffy …”

“(Snort).” I am so attractive at all the times. 11/10 easy, and that’s the humble version. “I mean I get bored and wanna do stuff with you and you can’t. I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yes it is.”

“Your feelings are never stupid. I know what you’re trying to say. You just wish we could   be so playful and carefree all the time and do everything together.”

“Yeah …” I mean, I get bored, and Mary is also the very best person to do anything with.

“Me too. I wish we could stay here and send for Suzy and never go back to our responsibilities.”

“It sucks.”

“I know. But we’ll do our best, and you have to admit,” my Mary said cuz she’s always trying to get me to admit stuff, “our best is pretty darn good.”

“I admit nothing and you can’t make me.”

“One of these days, Daffodil (kiss), I’m gonna find out (kiss) just how long (kiss) and hard (kiss) I have to spank you until you’re sass-free for more than 5 minutes.

“(Snort) Do I habba be bere bor it? (Snort).”

She scortled at me. “Let’s go wash your face and blow your nose.”

And ya know what she did? She held my hand to the bathroom. What is wrong with me that I’m ever short-tempered with her?

“I’m sorry,” I told her while she ran warm water over a washcloth.

“Look up.” She gently wiped the tear streaks away while reminding me, “you said sorry already, and it’s all forgiven and over. You’re my good girl always.”

I wonder if I’m the only person in the world who can whimper and be happy at the same time. I mean, she forgives me? (Whimper.) And I’m her good girl? (Squee!) Always (Whimper-Squee? Squimper? Yep, new word).

“There’s my pretty girl again. Honk,” she told and and held the washcloth for me to blow my nose into. I don’t honk, by the way.

“(Honk! Snnnnn Snnnnnrfurgh Hoooonk!” I don’t honk.

“How much you got in there still?” She was chuckling at me. She thinks I’m cute when my nose is running uncontrollably. I won the wife/best friend lottery.

“(Snrf snrr snrif snfff). I’m done.” So pretty; that's me.

“And after getting so much on my shirt too. But comes with raising little girls who sometimes forget they aren’t naughty.”

“Can you do something for me,” I asked.

“Anything.”

“Don’t be so patient with me next time. When I get in a mood like that and start taking it out on you. Don’t be so patient with me. I hate that about me, that I do that to you.”

And why was she out of nowhere hugging me like a riptide might carry me away? Like, oof.

“I don’t hate anything about you,” she replied in her you-better-listen-and-listen-good tone. “I’ll promise to be quicker to help snap you out of those moods, but you have to promise to try to stop hating anything about yourself. No one’s perfect.”

“But I am, is the thing.”

Her hand slid down my back to my butt and squeezed kinda definitely hard. “Daffy.” That was said in her you-will-not-get-out-of-dealing-with-your-emotions-by-making-jokes tone.

“I promise to try.”

And she kissed me before letting me out of that hug. Couldn’t help myself; had to say it. “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble sometimes.”

“I love that you’re so much trouble sometimes. Let’s go pack your suitcase.”

“Really?”

“Really, little girl. We’ll do it together.”

It takes way longer with Mary’s help. She folds things. Ugh.

[diaperboymi]

I just Love this story!!!!!  Thanks for another AWESOME chapter Alex??????

[Sarah Penguin]

the author identifies as nonbinary because they  are haunted by the soul of two platypusses, one male and the other female abdls  who posses the author to write new tales.