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

[Alex Bridges]

Btw, for those of you who like having a kindle or paper copy of the story, the latest volume is available on Amazon 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKYCGSHT

[diaperboymi]

This was cute ????  Still best story ever????????

[dyperaby]

♥♥♥♥♥

[Alex Bridges]

 Scene #193

 

 

I had a question, so I asked Mary. She knows things. I mean, I know more things, but I don’t know all the things. When in doubt, I ask Mary. So I says to Mary, “Mary,” I says, “are we being old right now?”

She peered over her tablet to look down at me cuz we were sharing a big soft chair at a cafe. “If we are, it’s in a good way. Why?”

“Sitting in a café on a Sunday afternoon with your spouse reading separate books feels suspiciously like something old people do.”

“Separate books? Is it less old if I read to you?”

“Could go either way, I think.”

She put her book down and put rested her chin on my shoulder. Gotta say, we were having a great time being old if that’s we were doing. Rainy outside, kinda cold; big, soft chair next to the café’s fireplace; LGBTQ-friendly café; tea for Mary; hot chocolate for me cuz I’m so grown up I don’t care if asking for whipped cream and sprinkles on it make me seem like a thing Mary calls me all the time that isn’t even accurate; periodic cookies.

“What if,” Mary said with her good mischief smile on her so, so pretty face (I love her!), “we stopped reading and talked instead.” She put her book down and crossed her arms over my middle, pulling me closer (which was super impressive considering I was already almost all the way in her lap. “You have a very full tummy,” she said while patting my tummy. “Who’s got a full tumtum?”

I did a legit pillsbury doughboy “Heehee! It’s not full.”

“It’s full of cookies.”

“Only two.”

“But they’re big bakery cookies, and you’re so tiny.”

“I make up for it with a big personality.” Also, it was three. I wolfed one down while she was in the restroom, and I’m not sorry.

“Maybe we need to ration your cookies so you pace yourself. The baking season is long.”

“I’m already not eating peanut butter Christmas trees on weekdays, which – I might have already mentioned this – is a major imposition. I do it because I love you.”

“And because I told you.”

“I let you tell me cuz I love you.”

Mary sighed. She loves that I love her. She crossed her arms over me, her hands on my sides. I yawned, the lack of refined sugar for the last twenty minutes and my Mary holding me and the hot cocoa and her being all warm and stuff was making me sleepy.

“The feminine urge to tickle your belly to you’re wide awake.”

“I can’t take you anywhere but you wanna make a scene,” I teased her. Teased her with the truth, honesty being one of my superlative qualities. ‘There goes Daphne,’ people say, ‘She’s honest to a fault sometimes.’ You have to be super honest to be honest to a fault, though I wouldn’t say ‘fault’ cuz I don’t have any of those. For instance, being conceited is a fault, and I’m not ever that. Really.

“What is it you always say, Daff? You ‘have your reasons’ for the things you do?”

“Mhmm. Good reasons. Don’t get me wrong, though; your reasons are great and stuff almost all the times.”

“All the time.”

“That’s what I said – all the times.”

“Heehee! For such a playful little girl …”

“I’m not a little girl.” Really. I didn’t even get carded when I bought that third cookie.

“For such a playful little girl, you’ve been awfully quiet when I’ve asked you what you want for Christmas.”

I have a theory. When you’re a kid, you can’t get anything yourself, hence everything you want is basically a present. If you see something you want, you are basically thinking “Present!” Contrast this with adulthood. Everything you want is something you have to get yourself. Therefore, when you see something you want, you almost never think present. It takes a conscious effort to remember that some things can be presents and sometimes you need to not buy something you otherwise would just so someone else can make it a present. Well, I forgot to do that this year.

“I want … new cookie sheets.”

“That’s not a present,” she told me, “that’s just kitchenware.”

“But I like kitchenware. I wanna Martha Stewart the heck out of our home next year.”

“You say that now …”

Fair point. Sounds like a lot of work. “I wanna bake a lot next year.”

“That sounds about right. You’re just a little sugar cookie yourself.”

That sounds kinda plain. I always thought of myself as a Swiss cake roll, complex and layered, either tightly wound or threatening to unravel and with a cream center. “How am I a sugar cookie?”

“You’re very sweet, and you make such a mess of the sheets when I eat you in bed.”

 

 

 

 

‘Here lies Daphne,’ the mourners say. ‘First person to die by being compared to a cookie.’

‘It was the compliment. She never did take compliments well.’

It was the internal squeeing. She had a massive aneurism.’

 

 

 

 

“Ahem … Uh … Mmm … Hurble stronket. I mean, ort foodlin. Urgh! Nahassa itabix ankrit. Mumpin!” I could say words very recently. Give it another try. “Cookie sheet!”

“I think I know what you’re trying to say,” Mary said to me all grinning and stuff and being proud of herself for making my language center do a hard restart. I recovered quickly though.

“Cookie … sheet … It’s a sheet … For baking cookies.”

“You’re my cookie in the sheets.”

“Wertterfetterer!”

“Did I break my little girl?”

“I’m not a little girl. But yeah to the first part, kinda. It’s very distressing.”

“How is it distressing?”

“Do you know how many months it will be before I can say ‘cookie’ without thinking about … you know?”

“Cunnilingus?”

“Mary! We’re in pubic… Public!,” I hissed. And I have delicate little ears. I don’t even like using the real names of parts down there.

“You’re so cute today. Do you know how cute?”

“Don’t say it.”

“So cute I could gobble you up.” I knew she was gonna say that! “What a shade of red you turn. And it matches the color you’re blushing right now..”

“Marrry! You’re embarrassing me.”

“Is that why you’re practically snuggling up on my chest right now?”

“Call me out one more time, and I’ll … something.”

“You’re as good at thinking up threats as you are at thinking of presents.”

“I’m gonna bite you later when and where you most expect it, and you’re only gonna like almost all of it.”

“I’ll just hafta hold you and your bottom to that promise.”

“Hey Mary, sine you're so wise and stuff, could you tell me the difference between falling in love and being in love?”

“Being in love is what I am with you all the time. Falling in love is what I do every morning when I wake up next to you.”

And then she kissed me. Can you believe that? Right on my forehead, which was so great and stuff and all the things. Sigh …

 

 

 

 

[Guilend]

I hope she’s wearing protective underwear while out and eating all those cookies. With all that sugar she might be too hyped up to remember to use the potty. 

[bobindiapers]

On 12/4/2022 at 7:05 PM, Alex Bridges said:

“You’re very sweet, and you make such a mess of the sheets when I eat you in bed.”

Right now Shakespeare, Twain, Hemingway, Seuss and all the great writers from history are looking down (or possibly up) from their final resting places screaming "dammit, I can no longer claim to have written the single greatest line ever written in a story".

[YourFNF]

*lesbian bottom whining and blushing and squirming*

[diaperboymi]

Awwww... That was so ?

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #194

 

Splish-splash I was takin’ a bath cuz that’s now part of our holiday traditions. Me in the tub, bottle of sparkling wine, pink bubble bath, getting ready to roar across the house at whoever was detaining my Mary. I says to Mary, I says, “Will we have a repeat of last year when you got stuck on the phone and were twenty minutes late to our date? Cuz I’ll get on the other extension and really let ‘em have what for.”

And she says to me, she says, “It’s so cute when you talk like it’s still 2004.”

“Well, you could conference me in … or just put it on speakerphone.”

But did she? No. And was she late? Yes. And did I react in a reasonable, mature manner? Well, I’ll tell you.

First, I imagined how boring it would be to react in a reasonable, mature manner. Second, I imagined the consequences should I choose to react in a reasonable, immature manner, which seemed like fun. Thenly, I imagined the consequences of reacting in an unreasonable, immature manner. That seemed like the most fun. Thusly, I continued imagining it. I’m a very good imaginationist (imaginationeuse?) I wrote, produced, directed, edited, and co-starred in a movie in my head, complete with sound effects and physical effects and special effects that were so real, it’s as though I felt and heard and also felt the events of the scene. And did I mention felt? So many different feels and one feel felt many times on the way to a great big feel.

‘How dare you talk to my boss like that,’ I wrote for Mary to say. ‘I promised her I would spank your bottom good and hard.’

I didn’t write any lines of my own cuz I’m a great improviser (improvisationeuse?), and I did an especially damn fine job of it.

‘You’re lucky my boss has a little girl of her own and understands what it’s like,’ Mary said as she took my pants down. ‘By the way, you have a play date with her next week, and you’d better make good choices or you’ll both get a sound spanking from the two of us. Imagine how embarrassing it will be standing there naked watching your little redhead friend get spanked knowing she’ll be watching you get it too in just a moment. I bet you’d be crying before you even went over her knee.’

And cuz I’m not just the co-star but also the screenwriter and casting director, I made a hasty edit. It turns out her boss’s little girl is my long lost identical twin, which is a kink I didn’t know I had and it’s very possible - in actuality, it’s a real fact proven by science and stuff - that given two red-headed identical twins, one will be a little girl and the other will not be. Of course, I’m the one who’s not. I’m also the one who isn’t fictional, so I’m really coming out ahead of my imaginary identical twin but I feel bad about it because we have one of those strong connections only identical twins can have. This is getting so meta …

“Daffy Dewdrop,” my smooth and shapely wife sang out from down the hallway, “guess what?”

Hmmm. I know this one! “Chicken butt?” If you know it, why did you say it like a question? … No, you shut up.

“What?”

“Chicken thigh?” That’s not how it goes … No, YOU shut up.

And there she was standing in the bathroom door, leaning against the frame, arm extended above her head looking slovenly and stuff cuz when she got out of bed that morning she said, and I quote (and you can rely upon me to be faithful and accurate about the quoting - really), ‘Screw it. I’m not getting on camera today.’ I know! Can you believe she said that?

“You weren’t doing the chicken joke,” I asked. She’s looking at you like you’re crazy … again. Her eyes darted side to side like there might be a hidden camera or audience for whose entertainment this exchange was meant.

She decided all on her lonesome to just pretend like the exchange never happened (very important skill in our dynamic, not to be used lightly but when needed, don’t hesitate to pretend happenings never happened). “Guess what?”

“Chicken butt.” There - said it with a quiet authority that time. “Heeheeheehee!” Zing!!! I zinged her good.

“It’s Christmas time!” O good; she ignored it again before it got even more awkward.

“It’s the best part of Christmas time,” I said. I’m a sucker for the very first day of Christmas vacation. “How do you feel?” 

She started getting undressed, so I kinda had to do the stripper music (it’s not in our marriage contract, but it’s just understood that I will sometimes do that when she gets undressed and she will just have to tolerate it every time). “Buhbah! Buhbah Buhbah buhbah buhbah BUHBAH! Chicks-chi-bow!” Alas, I don’t know how to spell the other sounds. “Come get in the tub already.”

“Hold your seahorses. You want me to get my panties all wet?”

“You like it when it’s me so much, maybe I’d like it to.”

“I frown on little girls wetting their panties, Daff. That’s what your diapers are for. But if you want to try me peeing on you …”

“I’m good … And they’re your diapers.”

And then - get this! - she was naked. Like, totally. The wedding industry should really talk up seeing your spouse naked in their sales materials. It’s like, look at her! She’s pretty and all mine and stuff. Y’all can share if you want to, but I’m jealously bogarting mine (not that I ever get jealous). And she slipped right into the water like a sexy sea otter. Ha! Rhyming … Anyhoo …

“Ooo, that feels so good,” she sighed. “Do you think Santa will bring the extra big tub we asked for last year?”

“I don’t know. Depends on what Santa’s bonus was this year.” Since becoming boss two years ago, Santa’s annual bonus is now bigger than my salary was before I quit working; granted, that’s not saying much but also, yeah it is. I should’ve gone into the elf industry like Mary.

“Well,” she started to say, “let’s just … How much champagne did you drink?”

“Like, ever? Hard to know exactly. See, memory is a …”

“No wonder you’re being so silly,” she said as she lifted the bottle to see how much I had. “Two whole glasses? Daphne Ann! Tut tut tut.”

“A glass and a half … I’m not a lightweight. I just happen to be small and light of weight and unaccustomed to sparkling wine.”

“Silly goose.” She poured herself a flute. We should all drink out of things called flutes more often; makes it sound like we’re perpetually feasting in a magical kingdom ruled by a stern yet benevolent brunette goddess-queen who doesn’t get on camera for last-workday-of-the-year zoom calls. “My … You’ve been masturbating! Daffy! What an afternoon you’re having all on your own in here.” And she chuckled at my expense.

“W-was … Nub-huh!”

“I can see your spot.”

“No you can’t!” And I threw bubbles at her. Goddess-queen pretending she can see through bubbles …

“On your collarbone, doofus.”

“O … That one.” For as long as ever, when I’ve been feeling certain feelings, I get this little red spot on my collarbone. Mary thinks it’s the ultimate arbiter of truth, whereas I think it’s a tattletale snitch that tells tales and doesn’t know the difference between the truth and a lie. It’s always libeling me with its mistaken ideas about what I do and don’t like. But just this once, it told the truth. “Well, you were running late. And I prefer to call it ‘jilling off.’ You’re so crass.”

“Crass by using the actual words for things?”

“Yeah.”

“Vulva.”

“Marrry! I have …”

“Delicate little ears, I know.” Benevolent eye-rolling goddess-queen who looks so friggin hot sipping champagne naked in the bathtub … Sometimes I think I must’ve won her in a contest.

“Are you playing footsie with me,” I asked all coquettishly and stuff. I’m a Christmas coquette. I may even buy red stockings just to give Mary an eyeful as I slowly roll them up my thighs with care (it’s a coquette thing; you wouldn’t understand). 

“Just making room for myself,” she said like she’s any good at playing hard-to-get except sometimes she kinda is cuz she likes to watch me get all hot and bothered and thirsty and pleading. Mary and her orgasm denial kink … But I can honestly say I’ve always won that game, mostly cuz she eventually lets me win, but sometimes I take the bull by the horns and just run full steam for the goal posts dragging poor Mary behind me as she clings to my ankle. True story.

“What are you smiling about,” she asked me.

“How we have almost three full weeks to do stuff together.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I thought first I’d be super clingy and not give you a moment’s peace. Basically be so close to you at all the times so that we don’t even make separate shadows anymore.”

Mary’s making her squiggly I-love-Daffy-so-much face. Heehee!

“My dog growing up used to do that. He’d put his face right on your hip and follow me all day almost never not in physical contact. Maybe I should get you a collar and leash after all.”

“But I’m so super obedient I don’t even need a leash. I’m an off-leash puppy … Also, I’m not a puppy.”

“So you’re not a puppy.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re not a little girl.”

“Nope.”

“So what are you?”

“I dunno.” There I go being a coy coquette again. Who’s playing footsie now? Me. That’s who.

“Let’s see,” Mary said, putting her finger on her chin as if she had to think hard about it. She tries to play coy, but I don’t think that’s a thing dommes can do. “You’re clingy.”

“Mhmm, but in a good way.” Not everyone can pull that off. True story.

“And you’re obedient.”

“I do my best.” I always obey (when I want to, which totally counts. Really).

“And you’re a girl.”

“Woman, but go on.”

“And if one were to describe your behavior …”

“And general demeanor and personality and stuff.”

“How might one describe it?”

She wasn’t fooling me. She wasn’t talking about ‘one.’ She was talking about herself, about Mary, about my Mary. But I humored her. “‘One’ might call me good.”

“A good Daphne?”

“Yeah …” And I waited. I knew what she was leading up to. And I waited.

And I waited while she took a sip of her champagne. And I waited while she suppressed a smile … And waited.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what?”

“You’re a good Daphne.”

“Marrry - say it.”

“I just did.” Rumormongers may claim I splashed her, but I didn’t. Really. “Daphne Ann, what have I told you about splashing in the tub?”

“Not to do it.”

“Do I need to spank you bottom to remind you?”

“That’s what you did last time, and I guess it didn’t work. Think you need a new strategy.”

“That is not the kind of thing a good Daphne says.”

“I’ll stop being a brat when you say it. I know you wanna say it; I can see it in your eyes.” Omuhgawd, Mary’s eyes. Speaking of  beautiful deep pools I could submerge in forever … Not that anyone was speaking of those until just now.

“Promise,” she asked me like I’ve ever in my life not kept a promise to behave forever and always.

“Cross my heart.

“You’re not only a good Daphne; you’re a good girl.”

Squeeeeee! She said it she said it she said it cuz she thinks it! Not to brag or nothin’, but my wife thinks I’m a good girl, and she’s in charge so it’s official. Validation! Certification! Credentialed and bonafide and stuff and all the things! Eeeeee!

“I said no splashing!”

“Sorry! Sorry. Excited splashing. Lost myself in the moment.” Splash-splash-splash!

“Daphne!”

“Sorry!”

“What was that one for?”

“Just struck me again that it’s Christmas time and I get to spend it with you.”

Squeeeeee! My feet just wanted to dance I was so excited. Splashing was unintentional and involuntary and doesn’t count against any recent promises cuz reasons. Mhmm - science and reasons.

“You’re lucky you’re such a good girl, or I’d yank you out of this tub, turn you over my knee and spank your little wet bottom red.”

“My biggest objection to that is I’d be cold.”

“Someone just bought themselves a bedtime spanking.”

“Questions: is it a good girl spanking, and can I use my two-for-one coupon?”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“That means yes and yes. I broke your code a long time ago.”

She sighed and started playing footsie with me again. Is it still footsie if her foot is snaking it’s way up and down my thigh under the bubbles? Whatever that game is, she sighed and started playing it again. I swear on all my Christmas presents that she likes me to the moon and back. I’m not exaggerating; I never exaggerate; not once, not ever. Really.

“A long time ago,” she said all wistful and stuff. “How long have we been together?” She knows the answer; she just wanted to reminisce together. Sigh …

“Physically? Eight years.”

“Is there some way other than physically?”

“We’ve been together our whole lives. We just didn’t know each other yet. I’ve had a Mary-shaped place right in my heart just waiting for you.”

Mary made her I’m-not-gonna-cry face and swallowed hard. She got all misty-eyed. “I’ve just decided we’re redoing this bathroom.”

“Um, okay … semi-random response.” Like, hey, I’m pouring my heart out here.

“Because the tub is too small for me to be on the same side so I can hold you so close right now.”

O; I get it now. I gotta say, this whole being together with your soulmate thing is one of the few things that lives up to the hype.

“Awww. You love me so much you’ll hire plumbers. Is it okay if I search for a really butch lesbian plumber?” 

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Comfortable silences with your soulmate are just so … perfect. But they must come to an end some time, so I asked, “What would you think if I grew my hair out again?”

“To impress the butch plumber? I’d be very upset.”

“And she calls me a silly goose,” I muttered.

“You know I love it when you grow your hair out. Remember last time?”

During the pandemic when I couldn’t get a haircut, my hair went past my shoulders. Mary really likes my hair that way, I think mostly because she love-love-loves sitting me down between her legs and combing my hair every night before bed. And braiding my hair; holy heccin Christmas fudge does she love braiding my hair. She’s so good at it too; I don’t understand how, but I take her at her word that the secret to braiding my hair so well is pausing every so often to nibble my earlobes and make soft little kisses on my neck and breathe in my scent. I’m sure she’s right; she’s Mary, and Mary knows so many things. As for me, I don’t like having to take care of my hair when it’s long, but I’m happy to pass the job off to Mary. Ear nibbles never get old; that’s just a fact of science and stuff (while the act of ear nibbling is among the high arts, and Mary is a master).

“This is gonna be such a good Christmas … ya wanna get outta the tub?”

“I just barely got in.”

“Yeah, but the tub isn’t big enough, and I wanna start the clinging thing right now. We’ll put on our pajamas, order food, and writhe around in each others’ arms like two kittens.”

“Says she isn’t into kitten play,” Mary muttered.

“I’m into Mary and Daphne play.”

“Awww. Am I your fetish?”

“She says like she didn’t already know that,” I muttered.

“She muttered like I wouldn’t understand what she said,” Mary muttered.

“I said it the way I did specifically cuz I knew she’d hear what I said just fine,” I muttered. … “It’s so cool we can still be silly after all these years.”

“I picked you cuz you’re the silliest goosiest.”

“You picked me cuz lots of reasons. All the reasons, in fact. I was there; I remember.”

“Because you’re such a good girl.”

She said it twice during the same bath! Squeeee! “This is gonna be the best Christmas!”

“No splashing!”

“I can’t help it! Squeeeeeeee!”

“Did you actually just say ‘squee’?’

“I can’t help that either. All the feelings at once. I know it’s silly cuz we’re together all the time, but it’s two-and-a half weeks that I don’t hafta share you with work; it’s like I missed you or something, and now you’re home.”

Ooo; Mary’s making her I-will-do-anything-for-Daphne-up-to-and-including-time-travel face. “We should get out of the tub before we both start splashing and crying.”

“I’m not crying.”

“I’m a gonna squeeze you so tight,” she said with a sniffle, “you’re gonna make that squeaky sound you sometimes make.”

Oooo. I love being her squeak toy at all the times and in all the ways. Gonna be such an awesome Christmas! Squeeeeeee!

[SolSombraYSoldados]

Yay! The earth didn't swallow you up. It was just the holidays tackling you, I'm sure.

Oh how interested Mary would be to hear that fantasy of Daphne's! Daffy would have short-circuited her Mary, just like a robot in the tub.

The Little girl doth protest too much (obviously).

[diaperboymi]

Awwww... That was Adorable ????

[YourFNF]

So much lesbian smut-warming.... *giggles and squirms*

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #195

 

“Eat a bag of furnig moferin azzlestangerang and put it right up you qweringergun canal! I hope you get a mouth full of jaggerkuneriin lackspazzo fuuner mogger rurgin and choke on it! You mother can huuf zeenerspoogen kunter huuzerfloffereningenagain and fuck! Fuck fuck fuck you! In your fuckin’ ass!”

         Apparently, when I get really upset, I speak in a combination of biblical tongues and pseudo-Dutch. Who knew? Not me; that’s not who.

         “Daffy!”

         “Go kilernifoofen yourself first, assmuncherstoofer!”

         “Daphne!”

         “And swallow it!”

         “Dahpne Ann!”

         Geez! What took her so long!?! Headset off, controller dropped on the floor. Stumble right over my (gaming) blanket and into Mary’s arms, and “Waaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!”

         “What is going on here?!?”

         “Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” Good thing one of us was composed and together and assembled and with it and under control cuz Mary was, um, so out of sorts. Um … really.

         “Shhhhhhh. Shhhhh shhh shhh,” she cooed at me. “Take a deep breath. C’mon.”

         “(Sniffle snurfle snorf snurfffffff snurfle!)” And who took off her own pants for her spanking? Me; that’s who.

         “Daffy, what are you doing?”

         “I’m sorr-rrr-rrr-ryyy.”

         “Daff,” said this Mary person who was so totally freaked out. “Stop that.”

         “But I’m in trou-uhh-uhh-uhh-ble,” I moaned and continued to disrobe.

         “Stop … Stop! Daffy! Look at me!”

O; hey Mary. When did you get here?

“Stop taking your pants down,” she said and pulled them right back up. “What happened?”

“I was playing my game and one of them said it again and I just lost it and went totally off and I didn’t mean to say those words and I’m sorr-rrr-rrr-rrr-yyy.”

“Shhhhh. Calm down.”

Right into the bathroom she steered me and over to the sink. Just friggin great. A mouth soaping – which I totally deserved, by the by (whatever that means) – but I at least earned it good and proper.

“Take a deep breath,” the Mary person told me.

She’s kinda bossy? And I told her so: “Hhh-hhh-hhh-hhh-waaaaaahhhhhhh!” What? The sobbing was less unpleasant than the diaphragm cramps.

“O my goodness,” she chuckled. “Someone is having big feelings!”

Yeah – ME!

“Take those deep breaths for me now. Like this.”

O-okay. Heeee…hoooo…heeee…hoooo. “(Snurfle snurf).”

“That’s it. Just like that.” She wet a washcloth and laid it across the back of my neck.

O, for motherstuffin goodnesserfin; I needed that.

“That’s my good girl.”

Really? I’m a good girl? Even though I called someone (who’s probably under thirteen) a jackfooted bandersnatch who snooferoofens their father’s perinackerwadget?

“Tell me what happened. Take your time and deep breaths.”

“I was playing …”

“Yeah …”

“And I was winning …”

“Yeah …”

“And I messed up …”

“Mhmm …”

“And someone said I should (words I won’t say).” Ooo – Mary’s making her outside-I’m-calm-but-inside-I’d-murder-for-you-with-murdering face.

“I’m sorry people can’t just be nice to you. Look up for me.”

I did as I was told cuz Mary is good at this stuff, and she took the washcloth and wiped the tears away from my face.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let’s wash your face.” And she soaped up the washcloth and wiped away the tears again and did such a good job and stuff. “Here,” she said and held the washcloth to my nose. “Honk.”

I don’t, for the record, honk cuz I’m neither a duckling nor a gosling. “(Honnnnnnkkkkkk honk honk snurf honkkk sniffsniff)!”

“Starting to feel better?”

“I’m getting my period.”

She chuckled at that. “I know, baby.”

What? Like I become unhinged or something when I’m in the throes of PMS? Cuz that’s not true. I become … dishinged. And only some of the times. Once a quarter, maybe.

“So I’m not getting a spanking for saying those words?”

“No, I’m not giving you a spanking.”

“Or my mouth washed out?”

“No, but I’m taking your gaming headset and putting it in the garbage disposal.”

“That’s kinda dramatic.” Ooo – Mary’s I’m-sorrry-which-of-us-do-you-think-is-being-dramatic-right-now face. But like she even really means that.

“I want you to go upstairs and pick out some pajamas for a nap, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And I’ll come tuck you in.”

I would’ve gone upstairs thinking people suck, but Mary is a people and she’s just the best and stuff and didn’t even spank me for saying those words like she said she would that time she lost her shit at the gamer bullies who said the exact same thing.

Christmas jammies, or … other Christmas jammies?

RrrrrrrrrrrrkrrrrkrackggggraffffffrafffraffffckrckkkkkkkaaaaaAAACCKrrrrrrr!!!!

O my god, she really did it!

“Daffy?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Do you wanna take a nap, or do you wanna go to the hardware store with me? We need a new garbage disposal.”

Awwwwwww! She even breaks household appliances for me! Sigh …

[diaperboymi]

Awesome scene? Poor Daffy.  She gets so emotional sometime.  Thanks for this on the day before Christmas.  Have a Fantastic day tomorrow?⛄??‍?

[Alex Bridges]

7 hours ago, diaperboymi said:

Awesome scene? Poor Daffy.  She gets so emotional sometime.  Thanks for this on the day before Christmas.  Have a Fantastic day tomorrow?⛄??‍?

Merry Christmas, Diaperboy! ?

[diaperboymi]

Merry Christmas to you Alex?‍??⛄?

[YourFNF]

I'm a little concerened about the personal property destruction but I'm assuming that's non-cannonical ???‍♀️

[Alex Bridges]

28 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

I'm a little concerened about the personal property destruction but I'm assuming that's non-cannonical ???‍♀️

I think Daffy appreciates the help. She never would've done it on her own, but not having a headset means she can't hear mean people saying mean things, and she knows that's a good thing.

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #196

 

 

Christmas is more fun that all the times which aren’t Christmas. Holiday stress is a thing, but so are holiday cookies. The universe balances, and Christmas wins.

I was explaining this to Mary at the mall as we walked past all the holiday-decorated storefronts and Santa. And Mary … The thing you hafta understand about Mary is she never sees the absence of a graceful segue as a reason to not do what she was gonna do anyway. I mean, I knew what she was gonna do. I just thought maybe for once she’d try to put a little art into her craft. I should’ve known from her weak “you broke the toy” pivot that she wasn’t feeling so patient.

“Daphne, enough,” she said to me as we walked past Santa Land, “you’ll just have ti o wait and see if Santa brings it this year.”

Caught me off guard a little. Sort of wanted to stop a passerby and ask if they had any idea what my wife was talking about. I mean, wives, amiright? Always saying crazy stuff. I should know cuz I am one. I’m also a little woman in literal and figurative senses, and I’m cool with that.

“O, you’re doing the thing,” I said to Mary.

“You can’t have a present every time you ask for it.” I literally had not asked for anything.

“Uh-huh. I agree with you.”

“Keep back talking and I’ll tell Santa not to bring it.”

O, fudge muffins. Fine. “Back. Back back back back back back back. Now what’re ya gonna do, ya big, tall bully?”

“You’re about to find out, little girl.” She wasn’t smiling, but she was smiling on the inside. So bright and wide. On the outside, like, wow - she was one fed up Mary. You’d have thought I’d been a total brat all day, knocking over display racks, smarting off at sales clerks, pickpocketing, bah humbugging, and doing crime.

And the Oscar goes to Mary, the woman who wasn’t being nearly as discreet as she could’ve been. See, I don’t need to act to lend some realism to our little sexcapades; Mary does the acting, and I just hafta keep up. Literally keep up, like when she takes me by the arm at the mall and speed walks like a disciplinarian who is not gonna wait until we get home. Past Santa Land. Pasta the Hickory Farms holiday kiosk. Past the play area full of screaming kids and haggard parents. Past the seasonal holiday worker behind the counter in the junior miss department of Nordstrom. I think we’ve actually bought stuff from there fewer than five times, but we always like to browse in there. It’s only a happy coincidence (that was sarcastic, just fyi) that the dressing rooms in Nordstrom have a lot fewer people in them than other stores’.

“Marrrry, leggo. People can see.” Fortunately, just cuz people can see doesn’t mean they’re watching, but it’s not so easy to tell in the moment. It’s not so easy to tell in the moment! Hmmph!

“You should’ve thought of that before you sassed me. You are in so much trouble now, young lady.”

“Quieter,” I hissed.

“If you think we’re waiting until we get home, you are sorely mistaken. You’re going over my knee, and then we’re going to finish our shopping trip, and if you complain about you sore bottom just once, your pants are coming down again.”

“(Gulp).” I trotted along beside the lanky Amazonian Queen of Amazonia I married with a ball of dread in my belly, a scarlet blush on my cheeks, and eyes wide and hyper alert to all the people seeing me marched to my buttsecution. I kept telling myself it was wrong. It was wrong, which made it even more titillating, which was also wrong. It fit squarely into the definition of Type 2 fun: no fun when it’s happening, so much fun to think back on.

“But Mary,” I whispered, and I don’t even know where I was going with that.

“Don’t you ‘but Mary’ me. We’re going to have along talk after, but right now I don’t want to hear it until your bottom has been well and truly spanked.

I started to turn to go into the dressing room in the Little Miss department. I’d been spanked in there three times before, two of which I want to forget. But that’s a lot better than a certain highway rest stop … so I got that going for me. Dammit…

“Not this time,” Mary said and tugged me along.

We headed up the escalator; at least I got to catch up to Big Mrs. My Legs Are Longer Than Yours (Amazon royalty has the weirdest naming conventions). “Where we going?”

“Right over there.”

A dressing room mat the back of the store, the farthest from the entrance. An empty clothes rack was parked in front of it. “Mary, I think that’s closed.”

“It is.”

Scroofit! She planned this! She made arrangements! How!?! Who is she conspiring with? Why did I marry a deciduous conspiring conspirator who conspired with her coconspirators?

She stopped shirt right at the entrance. I think she glanced around first,

But I was too busy panic imagining what she was gonna do to me that she couldn’t do in a dressing room with people in it, cuz she’s done stuff to me in dressing rooms before!

“We are going to go into the dressing room, I am going to spank your bare bottom, and you are going to be the best behaved girl at the mall. Do you understand?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“We’ll see who’s keeping her voice down in a minute. In you go, little girl.”

She stepped around the rack towing me behind her all the way down to the last dressing room. She steered me in and smacked my butt to propel me forward cuz for some reasons we’ll never know I was hesitant for something? And emotional. Hesitant and emotional.

“(Sniffle).” They were just nerves. ‘There goes Daphne,’ people say, ‘She sure has got some nerve.’

“Save some of those tears, Daphne Ann. You’re gonna need them.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“O yeah? What about that tantrum you threw in the home goods section?”

“All I said was that toaster oven looks like it would toast more evenly than ours.”

“And I am sick and tired you badmouthing how evenly our toast is. Little girls in Antarctica would be thrilled to have toast that’s overdone on one side.”

I give Mary all the credit for saying that without laughing. Me? I also didn’t laugh. Um, really.

SMACK! “Ow! Marrrry!” Stupid thigh spanks! Even through jeans they hurt. That’ll get anyone into the right headspace. Hmmph!

“Still think it’s funny?”

“No.”

“Can’t believe I hafta take your pants down in a department store to spank you butt like you’re a … And when did your wet your pull-up?”

“Marrrry!”

“If being in a wet pull-up embarrasses you, then maybe you should stop peeing your pants, little girl.”

“That’s not even what happened!” Mary’s ya-wanna-run-that-nonsense-by-me-one-more-time face. “I, um … uh … peed?”

“And where did you pee? Did you pee in the potty or did you pee in your pants?”

“You made me! You always make me! You won’t let me take them off until I …” SMACK! “Ouch! Urgh!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t hold it indefinitely.”

She has a point there.

Yeah, a stupid one.

“That’s just stupid.”

No, what was stupid was saying how stupid that was.

And until that day, I thought only people in cartoons made whooshing sounds, like the WHOOOSH my flailing body made as Mary pulled me across her knee like … like something that goes really fast … and stuff.

Spank! “Ow!” Spank! “OW!” Spank spank spank! “Nurner furdget!”

“Don’t you feel embarrassed getting turned over my knee in public and getting paddled on your wet pull-up?”

“Yes!”

“I have a solution for that!”

So here’s a thing I thought while she spanking my ass Christmas red: it’s equally embarrassing to get your bare bottom spanked with your wet pull-up yanked down around your thighs. Here’s another thought I thinked: all those times I thought it was it was just the worst getting bent over and paddled in a dressing room had nothing on getting put over Mary’s knee and paddled. Bent over spankings come with a set number of swats in mind, usually; over the knee is more like ‘when I think you’re a well spanked, sorry little girl.’ I’ve never believed there any correlation between how sorry a person is and how hard they’re crying. I mean, I was crying pretty hard and I wasn’t sorry at all, mainly cuz I didn’t do anything … But just in case, no more aspersions would I cast against our toaster. It’s a good toaster, and it’s doing the best it can; it is enough … even if it burns the edges. Hmmph.

Meanwhile, Mary’s up there just going to town. “…your little (SPANK CRACK WACK) Until you can’t (SPANK SPANK SPANK SMACK) Santa is watching (SPANK SMACK SMACK SMACK SPANK) you want him to see you like (CRACK SPLAT SPLAT SMACK) red (SPANK SPANK FWAP SPLAT) for a week! Do you understand me, little girl?”

“YESSSSSSSSSS! I pro-om-om-mise!”

“Then c’mere and cry it all out.”

Offer fucking accepted! Right into Mary’s shirt, one of the best places ever to cry … Actually, nope; it’s THE best. Not that I blubbed or wept or besnotted her shirt, but yes, those are things I did.

“Are you ready to go back to shopping?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you gonna behave yourself?”

“Mhmm.”

“Cuz what will happen if you don’t.”

“I’ll get another spanking.”

“And the next one won’t be in a closed dressing room. Speaking of which, we gotta get you diapered and out of here fast.”

“Do I gotta wear a diaper?”

“I didn’t bring you any dry pull-ups. Besides, new rule: if you wet your pull-up, it’s back to diapers for the rest of the day.”

“But that means every time I wear a pull-up, I’ll have to wear a diaper too!”

“If you wanna get it over with faster, you can wear them both at the same time.”

“Snurnle!”

“What?”

“I said ‘not fair.’”

“… Okay. I think, by the way, I haven’t been spanking you enough. Your bottom is so bruised. Stand up; let’s see if these jeans fit over this diaper.”

“They had better.”

“Just barely,” Mary tittered at my expense. She’s always tittering. Hmmph. “Let’s go say thank you to the nice lady.”

“What lady?”

“The one I paid to close this dressing room for ten minutes.”

“How far in advance did you plan this?”

“A week. Bring your pull-up … To throw away, silly. Don’t give me that face.”

And see, the thing is, I have certain needs that just suck all the kinds of ways to fulfill; dammit. “When we get home, can I get the rest of my spanking?”

“That wasn’t all of your spanking,” Mary asked me, surprised and not surprised.

“Well, the thing is, see, I have a confession to make. I’ve been bullying our microwave on social media.”

And holy heck! You’d have thought I called our air fryer a glorified convection oven.

 

 

_____________________

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

(Art by Cool Hooves)

[diaperboymi]

That was just Awesome ???. Mary and Daffy are Absolutely precious.  I saw wish they were my real neighbors ???. Thanks for this Wonderful Christmas present Alex??⛄⛄?‍??‍???

[Bel George]

Oh, I loved this last scene so much.  And I love the new rule as well.  

[YourFNF]

Okay I loved how well planned the scene was and Mary finally admitting the game.

[Alex Bridges]

If you follow me on twitter or patreon, you know i had another major surgery this week. I feel pretty bad. i wanna write during my recovery, but first i gotta stop feeling so blech.

[BabyJilly_S]

Please take care of yourself and don't rush things.

It's ok to feel blech, your body is letting you know whats going on, so rest up and follow the recovery advice and hopefully you will start feeling much better very soon

/hugs

 

[YourFNF]

This! Focus on getting better. ?