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

[YourFNF]

Getting to retire at 32? Shit I'm jealous.... ??

[WBDaddy]

30 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Getting to retire at 32? Shit I'm jealous.... ??

Right?  I'm 16 years late for that target!   

[Disk]

21 day and maybe I can retire at 32!

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #110

 

         “Hi, Nana,” I said with a voice one might characterize as purposefully mopey as I was in search of sympathy and went outside specifically hoping she would be in her yard doing nana stuff.

         “Hi, Daffy. You don’t sound as cheerful as you did yesterday.”

         “Can I come over?”

         “Mhmm.” And through the fence I went. Or the gate in the fence. It would be a good trick to go through the fence, not that I’m gonna go down the rabbit hole of how cool it would be if I were magical. I mean, I’m really good at a few things, but I wouldn’t characterize any of it as magic, though turning flour into cookies is for sure some kind of alchemy.

         Anyhoo, “Thanks,” I said when I closed the gate behind me. “How come your garden is bloomed out and a buncha my stuff has leaf spot?”

         “Did you try spraying anything on it?” Like, what, did she mean actually taking action to solve a problem, also known as working? Nerts to that.

         “Like what?”

         “I use copper fungicide.”

         “Is that safe?”

         “Mhmm. It’s organic. Just wash things well before you eat them. Is that what’s got you down?”

         “No. Or maybe one thing. I’m just in a funk.” Post-vacation drop. I mean, what am I supposed to do all day again? It would go a long way to giving me something (or someone) to do if Mary was also retired. I did some back-of-the-napkin math, and that would require us winning the lottery. She’s been working long hours (regular hours, sort of) and by three o’clock I’m thinking about dinner and wondering when she’ll be done and dropping subtle hints like going into her office and asking things like, “Can you stop yet?” Very subtle. People say, “Was Daphne just here? Hard to know sometimes because she’s so subtle.” Really.

         “What got you in a fynk? Did you get in trouble?”

         “I’m just bored. Being retired is harder than it looks. I don’t have anything to do that doesn’t involve spending money, and Mary told me I’d better not if I know what’s good for me.” She says that about all kinds of stuff, and then I point out that if I knew what was good for me, I would never have asked for a domestic discipline relationship in the first place (well, for that reason and for some other tingly-between-the-legs reasons), and that never gets me out of trouble. Like, if a person doesn’t know something, should they really be spanked for it? And if a person does technically know, should they be spanked for claiming not to, because that was a thing one of twice or eight times (or more).

         “Daffy,” my darling spouse called from our patio, and not that I’m a golden retriever or anything, but hearing her call for me, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet, made my ears perk up and my imaginary tail start wagging.

         “Over here,” I said casually, just playing it cool. A little hard to get never hurt a girl. She doesn’t need to know every little thought that goes through my head like, o, say, along the lines of, we’ve been home for four whole days and I’m bored and I miss you and I swear I’m not pathetic. Nope, cuz I don’t even think that way. Really.

         “Hi, Mae,” Mary said when she came through the fence. The gate in the fence. Why is that a thing with me again? O yes, my descent into boredom-induced insanity, I think. “How are you?”

         “I’m just fine. Daffy and I were just about to go inside and bake something.”

         “We were? I mean, okay.”

         “Good,” Mary said. “That’ll give her something to do besides moping around the house.”    

“I wasn’t moping. I was … being morose.” Totally different. Really.

         “I really liked spending so much time with you before the pandemic. You made me feel young,” Nana said.

         “You are young, and I did too.”

         “What’s stopping the two of you,” Mary asked. “What time should I bring her over?”

         “Marrry, you don’t need to drop me off.” As evidenced by my having carried myself all thirty steps to Nana’s backyard on my own two little feet. She just likes embarrassing me and stuff.

         “Fine, but what time should I pick you up?”

         Nana scortled while I rolled my eyes so hard the springs almost broke. She’s so ridiculous and just loves poking my bear, and I like it sometimes (like right then … dammit.) “You don’t need to pick me up.”

         “But if I have to pick you up,” Mary said, “it’ll help me end the day at a regular time.”

         “Let’s play it by ear,” Nana suggested.

         “Good idea. I like it when you look after her. Such a good influence.”

         “I don’t look after her. She looks after me,” Nana said in a way that made me feel as though everybody was patronizing me.

         “Can I borrow her back home for a bit,” Mary asked.

         “Be my guest. Daffy, just come on back over when you’re ready. I’ll teach you how to make pie crust from scratch.”

         “A very good influence,” Mary said and took my hand. I like holding her hand.

         “What’s up,” I asked Mary as we walked back to our house.

         “Inside,” she said, which made the fine little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

         “What kind of pie should we make,” I asked Mary in the hopes of bribing her with sweets. If only she was as hopelessly addicted to sugar as me. I was pretty sure I didn’t do anything to be in trouble.

         “Whatever kind your heart desires,” she said. If I was in trouble, she was pretty happy about it. “This way,” she practically sang as she led me into the living room.

         “Aww, Marrry, what’d I do,” I didn’t whine when I saw the bar stool and hairbrush sitting in the middle of the living room just waiting for Mary to sit down and fold me over her lap.

         “They’ll be time to discuss that while you’re across my lap.”

         “But I didn’t whoa!” I exclaimed as she sat and ninjaed me over her knee in one motion. If you ever marry a ninja, be sure you know how they feel about adult spanking before the wedding. I mean, I knew about the spanking part, but she didn’t mention she was a ninja. And how the heck did she seem to get stronger over the past year without going to the gym any more than me (who went never)?

         “Be careful with me! I’m a tiny little woman,” I didn’t sass. Fake news. I’ve never sassed anyone in my life. Just not my style.

         “With a giant personality,” she snarked. Pseudo-snarked. It just seemed like snark, but she’s not cool enough to snark like me. Really. (Except she is so friggin cool! Anyhoo…)

         “What I do,” I asked very professionally. That’s me. A pro at … stuff. Dammit ...

         “Nothing, but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been a little mopey, and I think a smack on your reset button will help.”

         “That’s specious reasoning.”

         “Mmmm, nope. It’s excellent reasoning. A good butt warming almost always rights your wagon.” Smack!

         “But my wagon is upright.” That’s a stupid metaphor, but she started it. I took note of how my use of it did not even for a second stop her from folding my skirt over my back and sliding my panties down my thighs.

         “And your undies are around your axels.” She is such a nerd. Please forget I ever said she was cool (which I didn’t, cuz she's not, except in a lot of ways that she is). “Look at me.”

         I twisted my head around to see her resting her elbow on my back, her chin resting on her upturned palm. I couldn’t see her other hand, but it was rubbing ... stuff and things. “What,” I didn’t grump. Nope. Not me. I don’t grump because I'm not a grump.

         “I don’t think you’re getting spanked enough.”

         “Am too.” Except me? Spanked? Never happened. I mean, how undignified would that be, getting turned over a knee with your tennis skirt flipped up and panties around your axels ankles and your bits on display and … stuff? Dammit ...

         “You’re happier when you get spanked more.”

         “But I didn’t do anything.”

         “I know, and that’s not a good sign. When you’re happy, your mischievous.” The order of causation between happiness, mischief, and spanking is perhaps not as unidirectional as Mary believes, but anyway, she kept talking. She loves to keep talking, especially when I’m over her knee, where not coincidentally she says I listen better. But anyhoo, she kept talking.

         “You’ve been well-behaved, and I won’t stand for it. It’s summertime, and I want you running around, skinning your knees, coming home dirty, and getting in trouble. Not a lot, just a little.”

         “You are so channeling my mom right now … well, partly,” I tacked on as I considered just where I was. Mom gave that speech most summers, but her solution was to send me outside play outside and stop watching TV all day. Unlike my Mary, she very much appreciated me keeping my panties on.

         “And you are so channeling a twelve-year-old who’s bored without her mommy to entertain her.”

         “You … Just because you have a point doesn’t mean you get to smirk at me. No one likes a sore smarty pants … And I’m not a middle,” I added before she could say it or draw any conclusions on her own. Smack! “Ow.”

         “O, spare me.”

         “Grrr,” I didn’t grunt in frustration, and I turned back to staring at the floor.  Didn’t ineffectually kick my feet either. Or pout. Or feel sorry for myself. Or actually, I was already feeling sorry for myself. Mary didn’t do that. I can make myself feel sorry for myself all by myself … so take that, I guess. Dammit ...

         “Besides,” Mary said, “you look too adorable over my knee with your bare bottom stick up and your panties around ankles and your little pink tennis shoes.”

         Not too cute to spank, apparently. Not sure if there is such a thing, but if there is, I’ve never been it. SMACK! “OW! Marrry! Warmup!”

         “Nope.”

         “Stop – OW! – saying OW! – that OW!!”

         So I was not in the best of moods and hadn’t been for a while except while we were on vacation. And so I was pretty much doing nothing unless it was with her. And so I had blamed everything on the pandemic and talked up how much I was going to go nuts when it was over and I’ve been vaccinated for more than a month and haven’t, ya know, done anything. Which is all to say Mary may have had a point … and stuff. But she coulda chosen a more polite way to make it. I mean, when I’m sad and she decides to adjust my attitude via my butt, I’m okay with that. That usually works at least a little. It ends with me sobbing with great big ol’ tears and sometimes snot bubbles (except I don’t ever do that – can you imagine?).

         “Tell me (SMACK!) with a straight face (SMACK!) that you’re not (SMACK!) happier now (SMACK!) than five (SMACK!) minutes (SMACK!) ago (SMACK!).”

         “Marrry, that’s, ha,” I didn’t giggle. “Ow! Not (heehee) true! OW! Be careful with me; I have a very delicate bottom!”

         “You say that to me one more time, and I’m getting the bathbrush.”

         “No – OW OW OW! – fair!”

         “I decide (SMACK!) what’s (SMACK!) fair (SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!). Are you going to get off the couch without me telling you too (SMACK)?”

         “Yes.”

         “Are you going to find yourself some things to do (SMACK)?”

         “Eeep! Yes!”

         “Are you going to go out and do stuff even if you have to go alone sometimes (SMACK)?”

         “Yes! OUCH! Geez!”

         “That’s (SMACK) the kind of sass (SMACK) I wanna hear. You ready to go to your Nana’s and make me a pie?”

         “Yes please.” (SMACK!)

         “Good. I’m going to ask her if you smiled, and if she says no, I’m going to hold you down while she tickles you.”

         “Like she’d listen to you.” Also, do you think Mary knew that was my warm, red, tingly butt she was rubbing? Heehee!

         “Good girl. Up.”

         She helped me to my feet, where I didn’t stand there rubbing my butt like a little girl who just got put over someone’s knee and had their bare bottom spanked. Nope. Didn’t … aw, screw it.

         She bent down and pulled my panties back up (and kinda goosed me when she did. She’s very forward, my Mary). Then, because she’s downright grabby at times, she kissed me right on the lips. Can you imagine that? Girls kissing girls right on the lips? Of course, I’ve been imagining it for thirty years and doing it for twelve, so it’s easy for me, but if you never have, my advice is to start out slow … It’s better slow. Really.

         “This is my way of saying that I’m going to pay more attention to you even when I’m working, but that I also want to see you get out and do stuff. You shouldn’t be home and bored just because I’m still chained to my computer.”

         “I’m not allowed to be bored?”

         “You can be bored after you’ve run out of stuff to do, but first you gotta go do stuff.”

         “Yeah …”

         “Make a list of things to do while you’re over at Nana’s.”

         “Um, can one of the things be a bedtime spanking?” She scortled at me. “Don’t start something if you’re too afraid to finish it, Mary.”

         “Ha! Absolutely we can play before bedtime.”

         “And also possibly while dinner is in the oven. We’re having roast.”

         “My little homemaker. Go help Nana make pie and try to keep your undies dry.”

         “Marrry!”

         “I’ll make up a diaper bag to leave over there just in case.”

         “You’d … better not.”

         “Mhmm. Let that be motivation for you to venture further than next door. Now scoot before I wrap your butt in one of the bunny diapers.”

[Bel George]

4 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

“Hi, Nana,” I said

If a scene starts like that, I know I'm going to love it just even more than usual.

4 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

“My little homemaker. Go help Nana make pie and try to keep your undies dry.”

“Marrry!”

“I’ll make up a diaper bag to leave over there just in case.”

“You’d … better not.”

I kind of expected that Daphne would have to wear a diaper, and then carry her diaper bag herself.

One of the many things that makes this story so unique is that after each scene we can fantasize about how the scene or the day or the week will continue.

[diaperboymi]

I just Love this story!!!!  I can't imagine a world without Daffy and Mary.  I know you have other thing to do and said it was coming to an end but please don't let it end.  Even if we have to wait long periods between updates, please don't ever stop writing this truly Wonderful story.   Thank you!!!!!!!

[Alex Bridges]

new chapter tomorrow. promise

[Alex Bridges]

Scene #111

 

         SMACK! “I’m not interested in the opinion of little girls with spanked butts and wet tushes.” Thus spake Zarathustra. Or Mary. Mary said it. It was a rather mean thing to say, if you ask me, and I did ask me and I think it was a rather mean thing to say even if she was being super sweet about it and mostly teasing.

         “But I don’t wanna, Marrrry.”

         “O my goodness, you is a whiny butt today.”

         “If you baby talk at me one more time …”

         “What? What’ll you do?” Standing there all smug with he smug face on just because knowing I won’t do anything makes her all smug.

         “I’ll … I’ll fuss … hard … and you won’t like it.” I’m so pathetic. I acknowledge that just this once.

         “You make the most adorable threat. Did I ever tell you that?”

         “Yes.” Several times, and I didn’t like it then either.

         “Well let me tell you something, Missy. I don’t fare (kiss) if you fuss (kiss) so heccin hard (kiss) cuz it only makes you more adorable (kiss kiss kiss). So unless you want a repeat of last night, you’re going to lay there and let me get this diaper pinned on, or I’ll be sending you over the your Nana’s with a fresh bruise the shape of the paddle.”

         “But she’ll see! Look at the thing! It’s like wearing the comforter of our bed!”

 

 

         “You are so dramatic.”

         Excuse me? O no she didn’t. “O no you didn’t just talk right past me. If you think it’s no big deal than trade places with me.” Take that.

         “Little girl, do you need a reminder of what happened the last time you suggested I try on one of your diapers?”

         “I am not a little a girl, and they’re not mine!”

         “So that would be a yes then,” Mary said as she advanced on me. She’s always advancing on me.

         “Marrry, n - woah! Stop just flipping me over.”

         “Make me.”

         What? What is even happening today? If anyone is gonna brat like that, it should be me. She just - when she says it, it’s just rubbing it in that I can’t make her do anything.

         “You are so EEP! Mary (spank) ow - M-ouch (spank) hey. St-eep!” Spank spank spank her spanking hand went on the very delicate back of my very delicate thighs.

         “You gonna be a good little girl and wear your diaper without whining?”

         “You take that back! Ow ow ow ow! Yes! Urgh! Fine OW! I just said yes.”

         “That was one to grow on.”

         “I am too a grown up,” I reminded her and added, “and you’re just mean,” but I said that part quietly just in case. Not that I’m afraid of her. Really.

         “Such big words for a little girl who’s pinned to the bed.”

         “Ya know, as long as you’re back there, there’s this harness thing in the closet that you could … ya know.”

         “That’s a fun idea, and maybe at bedtime. You need to finish getting dressed and get over to Nana’s. She’s expecting you.”

         “Can’t I stay home? I can be quiet. I won’t interrupt your meeting.” She had an all-day meeting - was leading it, actually - and for some reason decided that meant spending the whole day at Nana’s. Mary Queen of Pretexts said it was so I wouldn’t interrupt and get in trouble, but it’s really because she wants me to get out and thinks I’d be bored all day trying to be extra quiet. Maybe, but I’m perfectly capable of making that call. And I’d have been a lot more amenable to her decision - heck, maybe I’d have even found it helpful - if she hadn’t velcroed me into one of those stupid, thick, heavy cloth diapers.

         “No, you can’t stay home. You need to get out of the house. Are you gonna get dressed, or do you need me to do that too? I even laid stuff out for you.”

“I can do it myself,” I said before realizing that’s, like, Number Three on the Top-Ten List of Things Toddlers Say.

         “Five minutes,” she said because she’s a general with a timetable to keep or something. I got dressed in what she laid out and spent the next 3 minutes inspecting my butt in the mirror, and for damn sure the skirt barely hid those stupid things. I’d only wore the cloth ones a couple times during the day, but one thing

         I knew for sure is what starts out firmly seated around my hips doesn’t stay that way. I did my very best to not waddle downstairs to confront (plead with) my tormentor (love of my life).

         “Here,” she said as soon as I got to the kitchen, handing me a bag.

         “What’s in it?”

         “Changing stuff.”

         “I’m allowed to do it myself?”

         “It’s cute that you always ask that. If you need a change, you can come back over here at noon, or you can ask your Nana if she’ll do it.” She had her don’t-even-bother-protesting face on, so I didn’t bother to protest. “C’mere.”

         “Why, so you can you be mean while hugging me?”

         “Yes,” she said while being mean and hugging me. She even kissed me - the temerity of that woman! And sure, I like it, butI want you to have fun, be good, and smile.”

         “Make me.” See? I can be sassy too.

         “I pinky promise I’ll do just that, after work. Now scoot,” she told me with a swat.

         I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with her ordering me around and smacking my butt and making me wear certain stuff and things and kissing me all sweetly and stuff, so ya know what I did? I shouldered my bag and went over to Nana’s like she told me to. Dammit …

         I didn’t knock because I was expected. Much as I didn’t want to leave the house wearing what she put me in (or really, stay in the house in what she put me in), I wasn’t unhappy to be spending the day with Nana. Spending the day with Nana can be all sorts of fun. There’s often baking, in blatant disregard of my addiction to turning sugar into cookies.

         “Morning, Daffy,” Nana said from her kitchen.

         It’s fine. Just walk in like there’s nothing weird about the pillow between your legs. “Morning,” I said and took very small steps. Who’s waddling? Not me cuz tiny steps! Yay! Really … please?

         “What’s for breakfast,” she asked me. I’m, or at least I think, that she didn’t notice anything at all about me walking funny.

         “Is it my turn to make breakfast?”

         “Of course not. I’m just teasing, but what can I make you?” This awesome thing happened when Mary started working from home - the requisite morning smoothie disappeared from our lives, and we started eating food for breakfast. That was my doing. If Mary was gonna make me get out of bed before lunch, I was gonna make an actual breakfast, and lo, before very long she stopped the smoothie nonsense. She does make me put vegetables in the omelets, but I can live with that.

         “Whatever you’d like. I eat anything.”

         “I noticed,” Nana said with a chuckle. You don’t think she was implying that I eat like a horse or a teenager or a teenage horse, do you? I’m very dainty and ladylike. Really.

         “Let me help though,” I insisted, and I started dicing veggies for the omelets either because I want to be healthy or because Mary’s good habits are wearing off on me or on the off chance our menu got back to her cuz she’d definitely ask if I put something healthy in mine. You may not have noticed, but Mary can be very insistent about stuff, plus she’s always looking for excuses to teach me about being a better a person (is how I choose to think about it), not that I’m afraid of her. Really.

         “Daphne,” my friend Nana said, “is it my mistake or did your butt get bigger since I saw you yesterday,” the person who lives next door and used to be my friend asked.

         Clatter went the plate when I slipped and sent the mushrooms airborne, but don’t worry cuz the floor stopped them.

         “Goodness but you are a nervous nelly,” the good natured annoying lady said.

         “Um, furnompeter konig.”

         “Huh?”

         “Mmph. I meant, um, do you like peppers in your omelets?”

         “No need to get shy, Daffy. I know it’s been a while, but you don’t need to blush. I was just curious. You look like you’re shoplifting a small throw pillow.”

         O come on! I do not! Mmmph! “I, um, cloth. Mary. Mary made it. Made me. Made me wear it.” Hey, ya know what, Daphne? Shut up.

         I can no longer tell is Nana is humoring us and our lifestyle and just trying to be accepting and doesn’t think anything of this stuff, or if she, too, now finds it delightful to make me squirm and is even better at Mary at hiding it when that’s what she’s doing or what the deal is. I don’t think she’s making fun of me, because she really doesn’t seem like that kind of person. There was that one person in fourth grade I thought was my friend who was really just making fun of me, but I’ve gotten to be a much better just of character in the intervening twenty-odd years. And might I add how well I’ve overcome that trauma? Really.

         “I didn’t know they even made those for adults. Do you like it?” Has anyone besides me ever done a spit take when there wasn’t anything in their mouth?

         “Ftimen … fum.” Dammit …

         “Are you okay today? I swear, even when we were just getting to know each other you weren’t so awkward about all this. Like I’ve always said, I don’t care what you wear, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, we can talk about something else.”

         “People.”

         “O … kay. We can talk about people.”

         “I mean, haven’t been around. I haven’t been around people much since … and wearing … these. I never left house in them before.”

         “My house is your house.” And she went back to turning bacon. She’s weird, not me and not Mary. Well, actually, Mary is weird, Nana is weird, and I’m normal. For proof, I’d point to how I’m bothered by leaving the house in a cloth diaper and Nana is not bothered by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper and Mary is not bothered by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper. In fact, Mary seems rather delighted by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper. She had her I’m-delighted-you’re-leaving-the-house-in-a-cloth-diaper smirk on her face as soon as I got out of the shower. That’s a dead giveaway. I’m normal. Abby Normal is normal. Mary is not normal. Really.

         “If you don’t like it,” Nana said as she started cracking eggs, “why didn’t you red light?”

         Why didn’t I who now? “Where did you learn about that?” Nana isn’t supposed to know about that stuff. She’s supposed to know about baking, sewing, some game called canasta that I think is played with dice and a checkerboard, and that sorta stuff … O my god! We corrupted a nana! That’s, like, sinful and stuff. It’s fine if a nana was corrupted already or corrupts herself, but we … eeeee!

         “The internet.” What a coincidence – the same place I learned it, but not the point. “I was curious about your lifestyle. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the two of you are the most interesting couple I’ve ever known. I just wanted to understand how it works better.”

         “O.” Ya know, if you don’t start being a better conversationalist, she’s not gonna wanna hang out anymore.

         “Don’t worry. I’m over eighteen.”

         “Ha! … I mean, mhmm.” Now you’re just being stupid. “Mushroom?” Now you just are stupid.

         “Okay,” she chuckled, “I clearly put my foot in my mouth.” At least all the words she said are words, though. Nana one point, Daphne ‘ftimen fum,’ whatever the heck that was supposed to be. “Anyway, I was thinking of going to the farmer’s market today. Will you come with me? I thought we could do that, maybe do some window shopping, and get lunch.”

         “I’d like that … but I ...” Ya know what, girl, cowgirl up. “I don’t wanna go out like this.”

         “O … Can you change into something else?”

         “I … No. Yes … But no.” You are no cowgirl.

         “Well, that’s okay. We can find some things to do.”

         “I mean I can, but I can’t. Mary said at noon. Or … you.”

         “Me? She said I could change you?”

         What? Of course she didn’t! Why would Nana think that’s what I meant … because words? “Toast?” What is it with you and food … besides food not judging you for wearing a diaper?

         “We can have toast.”

         “I like mine toasted … toasted medium, I mean. I’ll make it. You?”

         “Daffy,” Nana said nicely and put her hand on my forearm, “take a deep breath. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want. We’re just friends. I’ll even tell Mary she’s not allowed to send you over here wearing that from now on if you want. It’s really not fair of her to do that to you if it’s going to make you like this.”

         Of course, what Nana didn’t know was my little engine was revving from the whole conversation. Stupid humiliation fetish.

         “No, I … I like it when Mary makes me do things.”

         “Even things you don’t like to do?”

         “Mostly. It’s complicated being me.” Or just like me. I’m not unique. Plenty of kinky people in the world like me dealing with the ever-present tension of not liking the things we’re made to do but liking (eroticizing, getting off on, bite-your-lip-so-they-can’t-tell-how-much-you-love-it loving it) that you’re being made to do it. Take my subby tendencies, my eager-to-please personality, my (alleged) brattiness, and my utter, bambi-eyed infatuation with Mary, and you might say I don’t stand a chance of ever getting out from under her wonderful thumb.

         “That’s why you didn’t red light,” Nana concluded out loud, but of course I already knew that.

         “Like I told you once, I like obeying Mary.”

         “Even when that means you’re stuck inside the house because of what she put on you?”

         “I’m not stuck. I’m … choosing to be stuck. Which is totally different.” Dammit …

         “It might be less obvious in something else.”

         “I don’t have anything with me, and I can’t go back over. It’s like she’s hosting a secret society or something.” I may have rolled my eyes when I said that, less at the secrecy because there wasn’t a secret and more at Mary’s insistence that I get out of the house and stay out of the house. “She just wanted me to get out of the house.”

         “Fat lot of good that does you if you can’t go further than here.”

         “She did …” Hey, what did we just say about you shutting up? That I should shut up. So I shut up.

         “What?”

         “Nothing.”

         “I bet it’s something,” she said in that you-can’t-hide-anything-from-grandma way she has, often paired with a and-you-wouldn’t-want-to-hide-anything-from-your-sweet-loving-nana vibe she gives off. She should sell used cars or interrogate suspects or something. “Is it something that will get us out of the house today?”

         “Sorta.”

         “Well, I don’t mind staying home this morning, but I was really hoping to get out before it gets hot.” I know she wasn’t miffed at me, but I could tell she was miffed at Mary. Take it from someone who has been miffed at Mary more than the average (pooh) bear.

         “She said you could, um …”

         “I see. Is that what’s in your backpack?” I just shakily nodded me head. “Are you okay with it?”

         O my, what a question. Let’s see, the answer to that would be … I don’t know. That’s why I to the trouble of getting a Mary, so I could get her advice on these sorts of intractable life problems. But then I guess she did give me her advice when she gave me permission. Of course, ‘gave’ is not really the best way to think about it. More like I have permission foisted upon me.

         “I don’t wanna ask,” is what I said, which is when that little voice in my head that’d been telling me to shut up knocked her chair over as she stood up, grabbed her purse, and walked out muttering, I hate this job. I don’t blame her.

         “I’m offering,” Nana offered. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

         “No … I mean no, it wouldn’t.”

         “Not that I’m trying to pressure you. We’ll find something fun to do until this afternoon if that’s what you wanna do.”

         “I wanna obey Mary … and I wanna go out … after breakfast.”

         “Okay,” Nana said like it was no big deal and it was such a big deal and the only person who understood that besides me was the disgruntled voice in my head who came back to her erstwhile office just long enough to say, ‘I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.’ Which isn’t just a cliché in my case. Maybe I need to put some time into getting all the parts of my brain to work together for once.

         “Okay?” I didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did … so there … take that. I’m not feeling defensive for no reason … you are. Dammit …

         “Right after breakfast we’ll get your pants changed and we can go out. Do you like your omelet?”

         “Yes, thank you.”

         This is how it start, ya know. First time was a thing. Second time is less of a thing. Ten times later, it’s not even a thing and everybody just treats it like it’s normal, and if you’re the sub, you’re on the receiving end of a lot of abnormality.

         Or maybe not. I mean, that hasn’t happened for me with spanking yet. Really. Dammit…

[Sarah Penguin]

[Guilend]

I’ve been dying for it to get to this point because I knew it was coming. I’ve also been dying for another chapter so yay

[YourFNF]

*confused and conflicted sub whining noises*

[WBDaddy]

Oof.  Nana changes her into I presume a disposable, and they go out (with her in a disposable) in public (in a short skirt that barely hides it) where there'll be lots of people (who will literally all know she has a diaper on) and she's supposed to converse with them like a normal person.  I think there will be lots of very profound "frwuisnrswf soeafncfrfs" statements in her immediate future.  

[Alex Bridges]

"frwuisnrswf soeafncfrfs"?

Daphne would never say that. You really don't get Daphne, do you? ?

[Bluebird67]

OK, probably my favourite ever episode of one of my favourite stories! And I definitely wasn’t reading it when I should be working from home, because I had to see if the promised update had arrived, and there is no way I’m typing this now with the feeble excuse that I’m waiting for stuff to compile.

Of course Nana was going to look stuff up on the internet. If there is an age when people lose interest in sexy stuff, I have no idea what it is.

[Bel George]

Wonderful chapter, again.

I guess, when they're back from the market and shopping trip, Nana is going to have to change her again from a wet disposable into a dry cloth diaper.

Then, when Mary finds Daphne in the dry cloth diaper in the evening, Daphne will have to tell her everything that happened.

Let's hope Daphne doesn't need to #2 while staying at Nana's place, since I'm not sure how Nana thinks about diapered girls using the toilet.

[Alex Bridges]

I'm on vacation this week and hoping to write at least two more chapters before I go back to work.

Scene #112

 

         Mary and I had words after I got back from Nana’s, and “got back” is how I’m describing it even though she’d describe it as getting picked up. Specifically picked up by her, knocking on the door and cheerfully asking, “Ready to go home,” when Nana let her in. I have knock-and -enter privileges, whereas Mary still feels she has to be let in. I guess that’s one of the ways our respective relationships with Nana are different, the other major difference being Mary sees Nana as a pseudo-caregiver to me, while I see Nana as my friend. My friend who I hang out with when Mary doesn’t want me hanging out alone. But I hang out with her when I want to, too, not just when Mary tells me. So she’s my friend. My friend who changed my diaper. Twice. Dammit … And anyway, it’s not what is sounds like. Really … And it’s Mary’s diaper! Really! Dammit …

         We went to the farmers’ market and window shopping and lunch just like Nana wanted, and we had a good time. See, I can forget I’m wearing one of Mary’s diapers when out in public, if I must, so long as it’s one of the disposable kind. I checked myself in the mirror thoroughly before we left (and btw, I’m kinda hot even with one of those stupid things on), and I couldn’t tell I was wearing unless I bent all the way over and looked between my legs. Hence I was confident I could wear that skirt and that diaper out of the house without being seen or heard. And even though it was hidden under my skirt, when we got to lunch I tucked my chair under the table very snug just in case. No one saw.

         Window shopping round two was a little more trying. See, I was thirsty. It was hot, I drank a lot of iced tea at lunch, and well, you can probably guess. Like, haha, you can probably guess, no need for little ol’ me to describe wetting my pants while trying to not look like I was wetting my pants. I’m starting to think my I’m-not-wetting-my-pants face isn’t effective, like, at all.

         The only important part is that Nana did not change me in public, which I wouldn’t have let her even if she had asked. And she didn’t ask. She just asked if I’d tell her if I needed changed, which is totally different. Maybe not on the surface, but when you think about the different consequences to a ‘yes’ to those questions, world of difference on the outcome.

         Of course, Nana was just trying to be a good friend when she responded, “Good. But I will start checking if you get too soggy and don’t tell me. You have a very obvious potty face, by the way. You might want to work on that if you’re going to do this more.”

         I mean, that’s stuff a friend would say, right? Please? And anyway, I’m not going to do it anymore. That implies volition, and that’s not of my volition. It’s Mary’s volition. I’m just the instrument of Mary’s volition because I’m a very good girl like all subs should be. So while I may do it again, it’s not because I’m doing it but because I’m being made to do it. Totally different. Really … I think. And I was made to do it. So I didn’t do it? Good for me, I think.

         Anyhoo, when my blushing was mistaken for being overheated, Nana bought me an ice cream. And one for herself. See? One friend buying another friend a treat, not caregiver buying charge a treat. Just friend stuff, just like when we got back to her place and she ordered – no, friends don’t order, so this was more of a friendly request in the form of a directive – “Go upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute to get you changed.”

         And like a good friend and neither a doormat nor a little girl, I went upstairs. I realized my bag was missing and was about to go downstairs to find it when Nana appeared with it. “O,” I said because clever people like me say that, “you found it.”

         “Was it lost?”

         “I thought I left it in here.”

         “You did. I grabbed it and took it with us. Diaper bag doesn’t do much good if it’s not with us.”

         “I wouldn’t … nope. Not in public.”

         “Even if you needed it?”

         “Well, I never have in public before. Needed a change. Been changed into one in public a couple times, but never out of one and into a new one.”

         “If I know Mary,” Nana said kindly, “if you need a change when you’re out, she’ll change you whether you want to be or not.”

         Sometimes I hate it when my friends are right. “Yeah … dammit …”

         “Lie back. You must be uncomfortable. It was so hot on sidewalks. Good thing we didn’t wait until the afternoon.”

         I’m so brave, I got through a whole diaper change without putting a pillow over my face. And damn did it feel good to get that off me. Talk about sweaty. Yuck! Only a masochist would choose to wear a plastic diaper while walking around in the summer sun, and I’m not a masochist. I’m a submissive, and my dominant is a sadist, and only a sadist would make their submissive walk around in the sun in a plastic diaper. Which is exactly what happened. Dammit …

         “What do you want to wear,” Nana asked me halfway through.

         Longgggg sigh. “The cloth one, I guess. But could you take the stuffer out, please?”

         “This thing?”

         “Yeah. Thank you.”

         “Ya know, if you promise not to potty, you don’t need to wear the plastic panties. That would be a little more comfortable.”

         Only later did it occur to me I could’ve just gone commando. Or at least I think maybe I could’ve. When the diaper thing was new, Mary would have me wear it and told I could take it off at a certain time. She hasn’t let me take it off because she’s been home all the time to do it. So maybe I didn’t have to put another one on. But then that one time when she said I could change and I didn’t put another one on, I got in trouble. So maybe I couldn’t go commando without getting in trouble. I don’t think Mary confuses me on purposes all of the time; just much of the time, and I don’t think this was one of those times.

         So to Nana and her offer to skip the plastic panties, I said, “Okay. Thank you.”

         “Lift up.” No sooner was I velcroed into that thing than Nana, totally earnest (which makes it worse), added, “And don’t forget you’re not wearing plastic panties. If you need to potty, we’ll get them on you, or you can just go to the potty. I won’t tell Mary.”

         We didn’t have to deal with that ethical conundrum, thankfully. We had perfectly normal friend time, and then Mary came over to get me, asked the obligatory (to her), “Did she behave?”

         I answered with the obligatory (to justice), “Of course I did.”

         But that didn’t stop Nana from answering, “Of course she did.”

         “See? I told ya so.” I didn’t stick my tongue out because that would be immature and bratty, and I’m neither of those things even when I’m bratting. Really.

         Mary overlooked my sass, and we went home, her conspicuously carrying my bag. In fact, her bag; its contents, as you know, are hers too, a point I can never point out enough. I went to the living room. I thought Mary was following me, but she went to the kitchen. I got myself back up off the couch to go ask her about her meeting, but she was already coming to me, bag open.

         “You didn’t come see me at noon,” she said with what was probably a smile but I took to be a smirk. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

         “We had ice cream.” That wasn’t a confession. I’m allowed to have ice cream whenever I want, except for those times Mary says ‘no more ice cream,’ which she only does because I have poor impulse control and a tendency to use her to lean against when I’ve eaten too much ice cream. She’s sturdy and gives tummy rubs. Who wouldn’t lean on her when they’ve eaten too much ice cream?

         “Was it yummy?”

         “Yes.”

         “Did it end up in your diaper?”

         “Ooh! You (snarl) are just so egh! And stop looking at me like I’m so adorable!” I wasn’t upset about the day’s events, at least not very, until she made that remark.

         “You are so adorable.” And that didn’t help. She so misread my meaning.

         “(Hissing sound) inconsiderate and not fair (angry bigfoot noise) and didn’t even think (the sound steel support cables make when they snap) and I’ll sue!”

         Mary’s unperturbed face. I can’t even tell you how frustrating it is when she makes that face when I’m trying to perturb her. “Are you all done there, Sally Brown?”

         “Yes … for now.” I plopped back down onto the sofa – no, my sofa; she can have the diapers, I’ll keep the furniture – and crossed and uncrossed and recrossed and re-uncrossed my arms.

         She sat down next to me on my sofa, which I let her do because I’m nice, and said, “I can’t help but notice you didn’t run to the bathroom as soon as you got home.”

         “You didn’t either.” Take that – touché!

         “Are you a good rule follower?”

         “That is such a bitchy question,” I muttered. “Of course I’m a good rule follower. I’m the best rule follower and you know it.” Except for all those times when I don’t follow the rules, but we don’t count those because reasons. Much more importantly, “That really wasn’t considerate, Mary. I’m not going to go out in public in those ones, and Nana wanted to go out, so it was wait until noon and screw up her morning, break the rules, or let her change it. That really wasn’t a nice position to put either of us in.”

         “I didn’t really think about that.”

         “Obviously you didn’t think about that.” I was feeling righteous, and righteousness leads to bravery. “If I were that inconsiderate, you’d paddle the stuffing outta me. I should march you over to Nana’s and let her do it.”

         Mary suppressed her natural response to that as a dominant, which was good because if said that any other time, I’d be in the backyard naked below the waist and cutting switches ten seconds after. “So what did happen?”

         “No.”

         “What no?”

         “No. No details for you. What happened can stay between the two of us. Just never send me over in those again.”

         “Okay … But is everything alright? Was Mae upset? Were you? Are you?”

         “She was fine with it.” That woman is a saint, except when she decides to participate in the poke-fun-at-Daphne game that Mary is always running; then she’s whatever is right below a saint. When I grow up, I wanna be the kindly old neighbor lady.

         “And you?”

         “It … I don’t like having to choose between the following the rules and putting her out. Cuz I’ll choose you, and that’s not fair to her.”

         “O, my Daffodil. You’re right, and I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.” I got a squeeze and a kiss. “Was she put out? Should I apologize to her?”

         “No, she wasn’t. She would’ve been if I’d waited until noon to come home, but she wasn’t cuz of the other … thing. And I apologized … more than once. But yeah, I think you should apologize. It’s been a while since you two talked behind my back about this stuff. You should probably do that again.”

         “Well, wasn’t that a passive aggressive way to say that.”

         “I’m not in trouble for it.”    

         “You’re not?”

         “No, because I say so.” Also, because she felt too bad to get upset over what was a pretty snide remark.

         “You’re not in trouble, and I am sorry, and I will apologize to Mae, and I think it’s a good idea for the two of us to talk about what she’s comfortable with.”

         “Can the three of us talk about it together?” Cuz, ya know, I’m an adult.

         “How about I talk with her, and then I talk with you, and I’ll make sure everyone is on the same page?”

         “That is such a dominant, control freak, keep-Daphne-on-her-toes way to go about it, and I’m not in trouble for saying so.”

         “No, but you’re real close to it.”

         “So may I please go put some panties on?”

         “How about we order dinner, and then I’ll help you into a pair of panties while we wait for it get here?”

         “Is that your clumsy way of offering me makeup sex?”

         “Okay, that’s the last sass you’re getting away with tonight.”

         “Pshaw. Threaten me with a good time, why don’tcha?” Which I said on purpose, because reasons.

[Bel George]

On 7/21/2021 at 2:49 AM, Alex Bridges said:

Of course, Nana was just trying to be a good friend when she responded, “Good. But I will start checking if you get too soggy and don’t tell me.

That's probably something that's going to happen in a future chapter.

On 7/21/2021 at 2:49 AM, Alex Bridges said:

No sooner was I velcroed into that thing than Nana, totally earnest (which makes it worse), added, “And don’t forget you’re not wearing plastic panties. If you need to potty, we’ll get them on you, or you can just go to the potty. I won’t tell Mary.”

Cloth diapers without plastic pants, I guess that won't happen again after Mary and Nana have talked about all this.  Nana seems to be a really good rule follower as well, and it seems like she doesn't mind much about all Mary's rules either.

On 7/21/2021 at 2:49 AM, Alex Bridges said:

It’s been a while since you two talked behind my back about this stuff. You should probably do that again.”

 

On 7/21/2021 at 2:49 AM, Alex Bridges said:

"and I think it’s a good idea for the two of us to talk about what she’s comfortable with.”

“Can the three of us talk about it together?” Cuz, ya know, I’m an adult.

“How about I talk with her, and then I talk with you, and I’ll make sure everyone is on the same page?”

Yes, more surprises for Daphne when she visits Nana again soon.

Who knows, a slight spanking when Daphne forgets to tell Nana she needs a change anyway, or when she says she has a clean diaper but Nana checks and turns out to be a lie?
Nana has more reservations about the spankings than about the diapers, but maybe Mary can warm her up to that during their private conversation.

I don't think it will get that far, but you can dream, right?

[Alex Bridges]

As I’ve been editing Volume 6, I’ve realized how infrequent my posts have become. A far cry from the heady days of 2019 when I was posting new Done Adulting chapters almost daily.

Sorry about that, but just to lay the groundwork, there’s only ten or so chapters left in INLG, then it will go on semi-hiatus so I can start a new volume of Done Adulting. I’ll still be posting INLG chapters when inspiration strikes, but I won’t be focusing on it semi-exclusively like I have been.

So mentally prepare, and also know that the next several chapters are going to be some of the very best.

Hugs and kisses, loyal readers.

[Bel George]

Then from now on I'm officially looking forward to those last ten or so chapters...

It makes me so happy to know that Daphne and Mary's story (and Nana's as well) isn't over after all. We will (probably) survive longer and irregular waiting times for new chapters.

[Alex Bridges]

Extra long chapter in need of some editing, but I know you innocent babs would rather have typos than wait a whole nother 24 hours. Enjoy!

________

Scene #113

 

 

Mary talks me into stuff. She’s very good at it. I talk myself into stuff, like that time I talked myself into asking for a domestic discipline lifestyle relationship and handed over the reins to Mary. Not literal reins, of course, because that’s not one of our kinks. We did try it once and … well, anyway, the point is Mary talks me

into stuff, and I only enjoy most of it. That leaves some stuff I don’t like and some stuff I have mixed feelings about. That’s me, little ol’ Captain Conflicted.

“You’re sure,” Mary asked me as she parked the car.

“Yeah,” I said in that shaky way you say stuff when you’re not really sure.

“You don’t sound sure. You don’t have to.”

“I know. I … I wanna try.”

“Do you want to try to make me happy or because you wanna try?”

“I wanna try.” So that was a fib, but it was for her benefit so it doesn’t count.

“Okay, but you red light the moment you don’t feel comfortable, got it?”

“Yes.”

“I will take the bathbrush to your butt later if I think you wanted to red light and didn’t.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’ll help you learn to stand up for yourself.” Me - a grown woman - getting spanked will teach me to stand up for myself. Odd how that sorta computes. “And I’ll red light if I get worried,” she said.

It had been two summers since we went over to Brenna’s to use her pool. What with me being a fraidy cat and Mary being so darn protective, we didn’t even consider social distancing around the pool before we got our vaccines. It had taken all of us a while to get our shit together, what with re-learning how to socialize and make plans and actually keep them, but we finally did it, back together at the pool.

Me and Mary, who you know very well. Probably too well, ya buncha nosy pervs.

Lisa and Jane, who you may remember as our friends living the not-quite-a-lifestyle ageplay relationship. Lisa is Jane’s mommy, and Jane is her little girl with that ability to switch from brat to sweet as sunshine in the space of a sentence. She’s gotten me into trouble more than a few times, and I’ve gotten more than my fair share of butt bruises for it. Even when we get in trouble together, I get spanked like I get spanked while Jane gets spanked like a little who starts crying at the first tap! My butt gets reddened while hers barely gets pinkened which is so unfair that it’s not even a word! I owe her for all the paddlings I got that she should’ve at least shared equally in. One day, o one fine day, she’s gonna get paddled like a canoe for all the trouble she’s gotten me into.

And our host, Brenna, domme to Tommy. Tommy, nemesis. Tommy is a middle, sort of. He doesn’t really claim the label, but he lives the behavior, at least he does when I’m around. He moved in with Brenna during the pandemic. I don’t really get Tommy. He’s actually pleasant when he’s not being a middle, but when he is being a middle, he’s the world’s most annoying eleven-year-old-in-a-thirty-something’s-body. I cut him slack because men who ageplay have to cut through all that toxic masculinity crap, whereas women just have to be cute.

Not that I’m an ageplayer or think of myself as a little or middle. We’ve been over that, like, many times, but it seems I have to remind people daily that I am not a little girl.

Anyhoo, Mary was being protective not because of covid (everyone was vaccinated) but because she was having regrets about talking me into this, not that she’d come right out and say so, and was worried about my delicate feelings. That’s Mary, Colonel Quiet when it comes to admitting she doesn’t know what she’s doing all the time.

And not that my feelings are that delicate. It’s not like I get my feelings hurt at the drop of a hat, although there was that one time this drunk chick at a party made fun of my hat, but that doesn’t even count cuz I was also drunk. Mary gave me a stern lecture the next morning about how no one likes a weepy drunk girl, and I would’ve been offended but she’s right.

Anyhoo again, Mary, being all protective, held my hand as we walked into Brenna’s backyard and announced ourselves. Everyone was excited. We hesitated over hugging, but Mary did it which was all I needed to give myself permission. Holy shit, by the way, did it feel good to hug people who aren’t Mary. Mary is the best hugger, naturally, but hugs from other people were just … sigh.

“I missed you,” I said to Lisa, getting a little teary without the benefit of a single drink. I got so verklempt, I even hugged Tommy. And Jane? I’d seen Jane during the pandemic, but she’s my bestie, and o my god did I wanna hug her hard, which I did.

Jane was in fine form, too, having gotten into her little headspace before we arrived and flinging herself around Mary like she was a long lost aunt, which is what she called her.

Mary is sooo a big, another thing she’s not so consistent in owning up to, so I’m stating it again for the record even though it’s already on the record. Mary is a big, and I am not a little, and you could see Mary flipping a switch the moment Jane said, “Aunty Mary! Aunty Mary!”

“Hey, there, kiddo. How ya been,” Mary asked as she hugged Jane like she was a long lost niece. She even tried to pick her up a few inches, which she did but barely. Not like Jane is a whole lot bigger than me, but it’s nice to see Mary’s superhuman ninja skills have some limits. Or maybe they have no limits but only when applied to me.

In any case, I totally did not get jealous of the beaming smile Mary was wearing when she looked at Jane and hugged her again. Why should I be jealous? Mary is an ageplayer and Jane is an ageplayer, and their ageplay roles are complementary, and they’re friends. Good friends. Why should I, who merely has lived as the submissive of a big in a discipline-based kink relationship with ageplay overtones be jealous of Mary smiling at Jane like Mary is a big and Jane is a little girl? If I were a little girl, I’d be jealous, but I’m not, so no jealousy. Really. Certainly I didn’t have to repress any petty thoughts about Jane, my bestie, who was making my wife look really happy in a way that is, of course, not just reserved for me. Really.

When Mary (finally) turned her attention back to me - her wife who wasn’t jealous even for a split second but who would’ve been over it by then even if she had been jealous momentarily (which she wasn’t) - I was spreading our towels on our chairs. Being Mary, and seeing me bending over, of course she pinched the back of my thigh. I didn’t yelp very loud. I’m used to her paying an awful lot of physical attention, gentle and otherwise and in between, to the parts of my between my knees and my waist.

“You ready,” she asked me when I spun around, one hand going to rub my thigh and any thought I had of chastising her for her effrontery melting away when she smiled that same smile at me that she was smiling at Jane.

“I think you’re even more happy to be here than me,” I said. Happy wife, happy life, is a sexist phrase that happens to be true and applies to lesbians just as well as it does to straight folk.

“I am.”

I didn’t even mind when she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. Just because she’s the sun to my moon doesn’t mean she should just make me melt into puddle of … whatever the moon is made out of (cheese?). But she did. She was the infectious kind of happy. I thought I was happy before, then I thought I wasn’t jealous (and I wasn’t), and then a whole ‘nother level of happy just because she was. I think I finally made up my mind right then that I like her and stuff.

“I’m happy because you’re happy,” I told my Mary. “I think you’ve been wound up and not in a good way.”

“Yeah, kinda,” she said, “but let’s not talk about it. Let’s just enjoy our day.”

“I’m down with that.”

“Speaking of down,” Mary said for some reason I don’t know. She doesn’t segue as well as she thinks she does. “Let’s get these down.” And down went my skirt into a puddle around my ankles. “And let’s get this off.” And off came my tee shirt.

And no, I wasn’t naked. I was wearing my bathing suit. We were all wearing bathing suits. It’s what we were wearing.

“Is Jane wearing one?” She said she was going to.

“Mhmm. I felt when I hugged her.”

I made the decision to assume it was an accident and not that Mary felt a butt other than mine on purpose. If Mary owns my butt, I own Mary’s hands, and if the sky is blue, then I am not jealous or insecure. And, o, look, the sky is blue. And even if I were to get jealous of Jane for getting Mary’s attention like that or jealous of Jane for making Mary smile like that - which I am not, was not and never have been - it would not, at all, suggest I’m jealous of sharing my Mary with a little because I’m a little and littles get jealous. So put that thought right outta your mind. I did, and I’m a better, healthier, happier person for it.

Anyhoo, we were all wearing swimsuits. It’s just that Jane and I, by mutual agreement, were wearing more than swimsuits. To whit, swim diapers. Why? Because Mary plied me with potions and compliments and puppy dog eyes, told me Jane would do it if I did it, and in a moment of weakness - my first moment of weakness ever in my life, I will add - I gave in.

I wasn’t as distracted by it as I thought I’d be, which is a distracting thought as distraction is a byproduct of abnormality, and I don’t want absorbent undergarments to achieve normality in my life … and they haven’t, actually, despite their ubiquity in my diary going on two years. Really.

And speaking of getting distracted, back to my point, which is that I wasn’t distracted. I was much more intent on stealing glances at my Mary in her swimsuit (if I were a shark, I wouldn’t eat her, but I would nibble on her ankles … and things) and getting to know our friends again as corporeal beings and not disembodied voices or legless torsos on Zoom. And btw, legs are sexy.

I was even enjoying Tommy’s company. Like I said, he’s a pleasant person when he’s being normal. I forget what he does for a living, but I think something super stressful. Maybe a first responder of some kind? Anyway, I get why when he cuts loose and goes into his middle headspace,

but when he does, he really goes into this middle headspace. I don’t get why he’s gotta be so damn annoying about it. Like, if he really were his play age, his parents wouldn’t be able to find a sitter still willing to watch him. His middle has a personality only a grandma or equally snotty middle could love.

And my attire went unnoticed at first. I knew I was wearing it, Mary knew, Jane knew, Lisa knew, and that’s everyone who knew as far as I knnew, and no one commented on it. I agreed to wear it because Mary activated my humiliation button and plied me with her feminine wiles - she’s a wily one, my Mary is - and I didn’t need the button slammed by anyone. It was nice just to have a little titillating sense of risk and the occasional pat, brush, or whisper from Mary to keep the fire stoked while we caught up with our friends.

Once caught up, we got in the pool, and hellz yeah did it feel sooo good. I really gotta ask Mary about putting in a pool. I would go back to work specifically to pay for putting in a pool. I would then promptly quit my job, take up day drinking, and be that lush woman who has a pool and an almost constant buzz from the ever present daiquiri in her hand. There’d be flowing, flowery wraps over my sun faded swim suit and oversized sunglasses and big, floppy hats. What a spectacle I’d make of myself, which would be a new experience for me as I’ve never been a spectacle. Really.

“What do you do all day,” Jane was asking me now that I’m a lady of leisure.

“I dunno. Stuff … I manage to find stuff to do. It’s funny cuz you you’re bored at first, and then after a while it seems like there’s always something to get done.”

Tommy was standing next to us,not really part of the conversation but part of the group. I’m starting to think his problem is he doesn’t have any male friends in the scene, not that that excuses his constant teasing.

“Like coloring and watching My Little Pony,” Tommy chimed in. Or maybe he jus has poor social skills and doesn’t know how to join a conversation (I can relate), and going into Annoying Middle Mode is how he compensates.

“Better than your stupid He-Man re-runs,” Jane snapped back, and just like that, the middle and the little got into their headspace again, leaving me standing there wanting my grown up friends to come back out.

“Don’t be mean to each other,” I tried, “Let’s talk about travel. Where do you guys want to go on your next trip?”

“You’re probably just going to the diaper changing table,” Tommy snottily said like a little snot who gets snot everywhere.

“Am not,” I said because sometimes I say stuff without thinking. I chastised myself silently. Don’t get sucked into this.

“Are too!”

Luckily for me, I resisted the urge to sink to his level. I remembered what Mary taught me: just ignore it when people are being mean to me.

“You are such a baby, both of you,” he said, turning his attention back to Jane when I didn’t take the rest of his bait.

Jane, however, can’t help herself sometimes when she’s in her little headspace. The same way she can’t take more than a pat on the butt without descending into tears, she just gets to be such a sensitive little thing. And yeah, some of it (maybe most of it) is an affectation, and I can’t help but notice sometimes she’s better at dishing it out than taking it (like when it’s directed at me), but that’s beside the point.

“Don’t call me a baby,” Jane rejoined, and she held her own, sticking out her tongue. Touché, I guess.

“But you are a baby,” the never-clever Tommy threw back at her. “You wear diapers like a baby, and that makes you both babies.”

“I do not wear diapers, Tommy,” this person in my head made my mouth say. I don’t know that person, but we are acquainted. O yes, how well we are acquainted. It’s the same impulsive person who makes me say all kinds of stuff without consulting the wiser parts of my brain. She’s responsible for a disproportionate share of spanked butts in our house, and I really didn’t appreciate her just pushing me back into this sad little tit-for-tat when I really did know better than to engage with a snotty middle. If winning an argument with an adult is hard and winning an argument with a little kid is harder, impervious to logic as they are, winning an argument with an adult in the mindset of a little kid is impossible. It’s futile to try. Little kids can’t be reasoned with. Adults with little kid mindsets don’t want to be reasoned with.

“You’re wearing one right now!”

Well, he had a point, but I wasn’t interested in it. “Am not, and you’re being mean, Tommy. I want you to stop.”

“Big, stinky, diaper girls!”

I think I should get extra credit or a present of something for not decking him. And if I had, it wouldn’t have been for me. It would’ve been for Jane, whose momentary bravery gave way to a trembling lip. But I remembered what Mary taught me, and she was pretty adamant about it: if ignoring them doesn’t work, come and tell her.

“Come on,” I said, taking Jane by the hand and leading her toward the stairs.

Tommy, who has the sense god gave a mushroom when he’s in middle headspace, tagged along, making up a little song for the journey: “Daphne and Janey sittin’ in a tree, p-o-o-p-i-n-g.”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him. It’s wrong to drown people. Just ignore him.

“Aww, are you gonna go tell your mommies?”

“She is not my mommy! Mary,” I called to her as we got to the stairs. She turned just in time to see me set foot on the second step and Tommy slap his hand against my butt.

I spun around, ready to tell him what I think of his middle personality and his imaginary upbringing and finger poised to do some chest poking for emphasis just as Mary shouted, “Daphne! Don’t!”

And suddenly all these dommes were there. Mary had me, Lisa had Jane, and Brenna had Tommy, who looked like he was surprised everyone was as upset with him as we were. That little epiphany light  over his head blinked on for just a split second, shattering when Brenna, who could’ve been a butcher with those hands of hers, took him by the ear. I had this ridiculous sense of submissive solidarity, having been taken by the ear a time or thousand.

I thought I was in trouble, and if I was, I wasn’t going to stand for it. I mean, sure, I’d end up over Mary’s knee, but I was gonna put up one heck of a heccin fuss about it. She’d win, of course, but only because I let her and also because she’s stronger than me. But instead of being taken by the elbow and swatted to the nearest chair, she put her arm around my shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”

Jane, who I loved right then more than ever, sucked in a big breath and barely babbled out, “He was makin’ funna us for being for our underpants,” as the tears started. Glad I’m not a crybaby … What? Really.

But watching Jane turn on either real tears or the best crocodile tears I’ve ever seen, I had my own epiphany: milk this for all you can.

I think I did a pretty good job considering it was my first time crying crocodile tears … What? Really!

I stuck out my lower lip, I sucked in a big breath, and I sobbed, “He (hhh!) called (hhh!) me (hhh!) a (hhh!) baby-(hhh!)-y and it hurt my feeeeeeelllllings!” And just to ice my cake, I tacked on, “And it’s because I wore this diaper like you wanted me to-hoo-hoo.” I may have thrown my dignity to the wind with, “And I’m not a baby and I just wanted to have a nice tiiiiiiiime.”

Now, Mary is a sharp cookie, and even through my world-class fake crying I saw her do a double-take, make her o-for-goodness-sake face, and then her but-I-like-her-so-I’ll-humor-her face. “O, honey, I’m so sorry her was mean to you.” I got a hug and some shushes and some coos and, “I’ll make it all better. Come and let’s get you dried off and get you a drink of water.”

“Is he in trouble,” I asked, even though I knew damn well he was in trouble. Brenna had him standing in the corner of the fence already.

“Yes, sweetie.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not. You did such a good job not hitting him back. I know you were on your way to tell me, just like I taught you: if another little is being mean to you, you come tell me or their big, and you did exactly that. I’m very proud of you.”

Not to be telling’ tales outta school or nothin’, but my wife is proud of me, and once I was dry and had my water, Jane came and sat next to me practically in my lap - did I ever mention she’s bigger than me and also that I’m petite as all get out?

But you can’t deny an emotional little comfort, even if she never was all that upset to begin with. She practically snuggled into my shoulder in her wet towel while we watched Brenna get Tommy out of the corner and march him over to Mary and Lisa. Jane, poor emotionally distraught Jane, suddenly hopped up, grabbed a bowl of Cheez-its off the table, and snuggled back into my shoulder like this was the gonna be the best movie ever. She is a such a faker. Glad I never stoop to that level … What?? Really!!

“Sit,” Brenna hissed and planted Tommy in a chair while all three dommes stood over him. Lemme tell ya, having been in that position before, it’s Type 2 fun at best: not at all fun during, maybe fun in retrospect , and a strong probability of never being fun at all. “Did you make fun of them?”

You’d think being in that much trouble would maybe snap someone out of their middle headspace, like instantly sobering up upon realizing you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew. Not Tommy. Or most littles, in my experience, just digging the hole deeper, trying to chew the whole thing and swallow. Glad I never do that or mix metaphors like a CuisineArt. Really (yup, really).

“I just said their babies cuz they wear diapers,” he said by way of a very weak defense.

“So you were being mean to them,” Brenna said. “They’re littler than you, Tommy. You know better than to make fun of anyone but especially of littles who are littler than you.”

“Objection,” I may have said by way of objection that got totally ignored.

“And what they wear is none of your business,” Mary said.

I guess Lisa didn’t want to be left out, because she chimed in with, “Some people need to be in diapers a little while longer, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Daphne will be back in big girl undies when she’s ready.”

“What the hell, Lisa?”

“We’re handling this,” Mary said and shot me one of her we’re-handling-this-so-shush-or-else looks.

“Everybody grows up at their own pace. They’re just little girls.”

“But she lied and said she doesn’t wear them,” Tommy tried like he’s in charge of enforcing the truth or something.

“She doesn’t have to tell you what she’s wearing,” Brenna told him. And damn straight!

“She wears what I tell her to wear,” Mary interjected. “And you. Do not. Touch my Daphne.”

“And Jane is only wearing it to make Daphne feel better about needing them.”

“O come the crap on,” I grumbled since there was not point in even trying to stand up for myself in the middle of this farce.

“It’s okay,” Jane said and rubbed my back a little, “I don’t mind wearing them until you’re ready to be groomed up like me.”

I had an out-of-body experience and saw myself making my not-impressed face with my trademark breathing-through-the-rising-irritation chest heaves.

“And you do not hurt little girls’ feelings,” Lisa said. “You should set an example.”

“I set an example by not peeing my pants!”

“Don’t waste Cheez-Its,” this friggin’ little names Jane scolded me when I may have thrown some Cheez-Its in the general direction of all those people who I don’t even know.

“You are going to get a big spanking from all three of us,” Brenna informed him.

“They can’t spank me!” If I had a nickel for every time I tried that …

“They can if I let them” If I had a dime for every time I heard that … “And Jane and Daphne are going to watch!”

“No!”

“Yes, and I can’t care if the neighbors do hear. You should’ve thought’ve of that before shouted out to the whole neighborhood that Daphne still wears diapers.”

“I. Don’t! Wear!! Diapers!!!” Well, that got their attention. Ruh-roh, she’s coming over here.

“Daffy,” some woman called Mary said to me as she strutted across the lawn.

“You planned this!”

“I promise I didn’t.”

“Well - hhh! - I -hhh! - just -“

“Deep breaths, baby,” she said as she put these arms around me, nice arms. Too bad they’re attached to the such a butt head!

“Everybody’s being mean to me and I am not a little and I don’t wear diapers and Jane scolded me like she’s queen of the damn crackers and you mmm! Just mmm!” I know this kind of kiss. It’s one her this’ll-shut-her-up kisses.

“Daffy, I promise no one is being mean to you on purpose,” she said as she looked over her shoulder, “Except Tommy.” I leaned just enough so he could see me scowl at him too from behind Mary, not that I was afraid but that she was between me and him. And lucky him because if she wasn’t … I’d have probably sat where I was on the chaise lounge and done nothing. Dammit …

“See what a mess you made because you couldn’t just be nice,” Brenna said as she took her middle by the ear again and lifted him out of that chair.

“Come on,” Mary said and sat down on the chaise lounge. I wasn’t so happy with her, but I sat in her lap anyway. And Miss Jane-I’m-in-Charge-of-the-Foodstuffs shifted herself like she was gonna lean on my Mary, I shot her a look that would freeze sea water. I’m a generous person, and Janie is my bestie, but I was in no mood to be sharing my Mary with a little. “Let’s watch.” We all watched Tommy get his.

Brenna can be just downright mean. “The last time we had a pool party, this is exactly what happened,” she said as she untied the little bow that held up his swim suit. “You teased Daphne until you both got in trouble, and I can see she learned her lesson, but you’re still the same little boy you’ve always been.” She hooked her thumbs into his waistband and yanked his suit down. “And you certainly look like it, and don’t tell me it’s because you were in a pool. I know exactly how big you aren’t. Over my knee.”

Brenna yanked him over her knee and started giving him a punishment spanking. No warmup. Tommy struggled just like you’d expect a middle to. When I struggle, it’s because I’m a warrior princess. When Tommy struggles, it’s because he’s a wimpy little middle.

While we watched him get spanked, Mary said to Lisa, “Do you mind bring me that backpack.”

“Why,” I whispered to her as Lisa went and got it.

“You’ll see.” Lisa handed her the bag, and Mary opened it, turned to me, and asked, “Do you mind sharing,” as he pulled out the paddle she so incorrectly says is mine when it’s really hers. I shook my head no, and Mary handed the paddle to Lisa. It occurred to me as Lisa handed the paddle to Brenna that if we had a pool in our backyard, there’d probably be a paddle hanging from the fence right next to the skimmer.

Brenna took the paddle without missing a beat to his butt, and what a butt it was … Or used to be. More a smoldering pair of twin mounds attached to some crybaby who couldn’t even take a pants down public spanking without getting all upset about it. I mean, show some dignity.

My butt’s cold.

What made you think of that?

‘Dignity.’

Shut up.

No you shut up.

Would you both shut up so we can watch?

“You. Will. Not. Tease. Daphne. Ever. A. Gain.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Ow ow ow ow!”

“You are not even close to done,” Brenna said as she walloped him once more and then stood up, helping him off her lap and trading places with Lisa, who yanked him right back over her knee.

“And that goes! For my! Jane! Too!”

So Lisa does know how to give a spanking. But of course I knew that having been spanked by Lisa before. It’s not that she doesn’t know how. It’s that no one can spank her precious Janey, even her, cuz Janey is into bratting but not into consequences. I’m all for consent and a you-do-you approach to living life, but how convenient for Jane that she’s not into spanking. Maybe I should try that some time. Um, Mary, I know I robbed all those banks, but I’ve decided I’m just not into spanking anymore.

Tommy was bawling now, as well he should be. I don’t care about kink this or that. He touched my butt! He’s lucky Mary was there cuz I was ready to hit him with my whole body. If he were some stranger in a bar he’d had one of those cocktail umbrellas protruding from his forehead.

“Your! Turn! Mary!”

“I’ll pass,” Mary said. Wait, what?

“You’re sure,” Lisa said, surprised. Mary skip a chance to give a spanking? To a man? She loves making men cry!

“Mhmm.”

“Well,” Lisa said, “Maybe Daffy wants to finish his spanking.”

“Nope. She’s too little to give someone a spanking.” O that is such bullshit! “I have something else for little Tommy.”

She shifted her thighs, and I took the hint to get off her lap. She took her bag and sauntered up to Tommy, still draped over Lisa’s knee (and unlike me and all other fine things, Tommy does not drape well).

She knelt down so she was close to his face, brushed his hair out of his eyes and said, “I think Tommy needs to understand what it’s like to have no say in what he wears.” She glanced up at Brenna, who nodded her permission. “I think it’s time Tommy understands what it’s like to not have any say over where he goes to the bathroom.”

“Noooo,” Tommy groaned.

“I really don’t like hearing that word from spanked little boys,” Mary said like she was trying to be nice to him. I hate it when she’s that nice to me. “Is that ‘no’ as in ‘I’m ready for my real spanking now,’ or ‘no’ as in ‘I’m sorry and will do as I’m told like an obedient manchild?’”

“No … no more spanking,” he sobbed.

“Then be a very good boy,” she warned him. Lisa let him up, or more like like Mary take him off her lap, and Mary gave him a swat before he could even think to rub. “No rubbing. Lie down.”

He did, whimpering as his butt touched the pool deck. I’ve had post-spanking, bare bottomed timeouts on that pool deck. Holy crudding crap does it hurt on a sunny day.

“Little boys who make fun of little girls in diapers either want to wear diapers, too …”

I take issue with the use of ‘too’ in that sentence.

“… or they just need to learn a little empathy,” Mary said as she got one of my diapers - no, dammit! Hers! Her diaper! - out of her bag, “besides which, your peepee should be in a diapee anyway. Yes, it should. Yes, it should like all widdle man clitties should be.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard her make fun of a penis before. Penises in general? Yep (but I think I started it), but she’s very good about not teasing people about their body parts unless they want to be. I don’t know if Tommy wanted to be. He just laid there and let it happen.

“And you think they’re babies and you’re not. Pshh. Lift.” He lifted his hips, and Mary took advantage and landed some pranks after all. “This diaper is going to hold in the heat of your spanking for hours. And no cream for you, either. You earned that spanked bottom, little boy, and you have to live with it.”

He wasn’t uncooperative so much as confused. He clearly hadn’t had this happen to him before, but Mary managed to get that things taped on him. It was one of my ones with the farm animals … Mary’s animals! Mary’s diaper with the farm animals.

“There,” Mary announced, “One well paddled, well padded boy, who has some apologizing to do. Up,” Mary said and took him by the ear again. That’s a lot of ear pulling for one day, not that he didn’t earn it.

She marched him over to me and Jane. “What do you say?”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Speak up,” Mary said with a little twist, “unless you want that spanking from me after all.”

“Ow! I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For making fun of you and teasing you! Ow! I won’t ever do it again! Please!”

“Do you accept his apology, Daphne,” Mary asked me.

“Yes.”

“Jane?”

“Who’s a diaper baby now,” Jane said.

“Jane,” I scolded her. “Don’t you start making fun either.” Why can’t these brats jus the nice?

“Sorry. I accept your apology.”

Brenna stepped over and landed her palm on the back of Tommy’s diaper. And yes, that’s how it works: when it’s on me, it’s Mary’s; when it’s on Tommy, it’s his. “I think it suits him.”

“I wanna take if off,” he groaned, but only after Mary let go of his ear.

“Does Daphne get to take hers off?”

“Sometimes,” I said to apparently no one but the breeze.

“But I don’t like this,” he pleaded.

“And that’s why it’s a punishment. You’ll wear it at least until bedtime, and don’t think it’s coming down until then unless it’s to put you back over my knee.”

“But what if I hafta pee?”

“You can hold it, or you can wet yourself. In fact, Mary, do you have another one just in case I decide he needs to stay in diapers overnight?”

“No, I only have one left and …”

“But I want Tommy to have it,” I said to Mary. “Sharing is caring.” Heeheehee!

“What do you say,” Brenna asked her boyfriend.

“[Sound of something being muttered]. Ow! Thank you!”

“I think you can spend the rest of the afternoon sitting right next to me in timeout.”

And while he was doing that, Mary pulled me aside. “Are you okay?”

“Everybody is mean except me,” I grumped.

“I let that get a little out of hand.”

“O gee, you think?”

“O don’t even tell you totally hated it.”

“I did!”

“Then what about that …”

“If you mention the spot on my collarbone, I’m gonna poke you right in the eye, Mary.” Stupid humiliation fetish and stupid collarbone spot always giving away my innermost thoughts and feelings about it.

“Fine. I won’t say anything about it.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Awesome … Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Can we have sex, like, the exact moment we get home? Asking for my friend.”

 

 

[YourFNF]

*Confused and conflicted sub noise feeling bad for Daphene but low key wanting this treatment...*

??

I think personally I would want it made clear in out of scene negotiation that I'm wearing the diapers cause I'm told to and that's what good girls do. Not because I need them....

[Alex Bridges]

2 hours ago, YourFNF said:

*Confused and conflicted sub noise feeling bad for Daphene but low key wanting this treatment...*

??

I think personally I would want it made clear in out of scene negotiation that I'm wearing the diapers cause I'm told to and that's what good girls do. Not because I need them....

Why be embarrassed for needing what you need? Ope! I mean, uh, for people thinking you need something you need??

[YourFNF]

15 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

Why be embarrassed for needing what you need? Ope! I mean, uh, for people thinking you need something you need??

Cause it's not true! It's fine if mommy says that I'm to use my pants cause that's how it works or if I actually need it but it's wrong to say lies about people *pouts*

https://tenor.com/view/monika-grumpy-ddlc-casual-angry-gif-19116850

 

[Alex Bridges]

2 hours ago, YourFNF said:

Cause it's not true! It's fine if mommy says that I'm to use my pants cause that's how it works or if I actually need it but it's wrong to say lies about people *pouts*

https://tenor.com/view/monika-grumpy-ddlc-casual-angry-gif-19116850

 

You’re right. It’s wrong to fib and tease babs … but it’s sooo fun!!!

[YourFNF]

although I supposed you could kinda say I kinda sorta need them for peace of mind when having a flair but I don't have accidents so I don't really need need them *grumps and pouts*