caring mom and bedwetting daughter Fear of Missing Out (Ch. 23 posted 4/30/20)

[Angela Bauer]

Today was very special, because I had enough time to re-read all of Alex's FEAR OF MISSING OUT without any interruption.

This is such a remarkable story

[dyperaby]

2 hours ago, Angela Bauer said:

This is such a remarkable story

I agree, this is a wonderful story. I fervently hope Alex has both the time and inspiration to continue it as well as; Done Adulting Volume 2, Because You Asked for It, and You're Never Too Old to Be Spanked.  They are all remarkable!

[WBDaddy]

56 minutes ago, dyperaby said:

I agree, this is a wonderful story. I fervently hope Alex has both the time and inspiration to continue it as well as...

Which is exactly why I patiently wait for each new installment of each of these parallel stories.  It's a lot of work developing one story on a rhythm, never mind four at the same time. 

[Alex Bridges]

I’m on vacation. I *may* write a chapter, not sure of which story, while still here but not likely until I get home and recuperate a bit.

[Guilend]

35 minutes ago, Alex Bridges said:

I’m on vacation. I *may* write a chapter, not sure of which story, while still here but not likely until I get home and recuperate a bit.

Enjoy yourself. 

[Jayme]

As Guilend said, enjoy your vacation, we can wait for updates to your stories!

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 18

 

“Come sit with me,” Mom said to me when my corner time was up. I reached down and rubbed my butt through a Goodnite. I decided to put one on when I woke up, knowing after breakfast I’d be getting spanked and put in the corner. Corner time can end in a small disaster if you have overactive bladder. I’m assuming I’m allowed to leave the corner if I need to, but I can’t bring myself to ask. Too embarrassing. I may have been butt up over Mom’s knee fifteen minutes ago, but I have my dignity, such as it is.

I walked the three steps from my corner to my bed and sat down next to Mom. I looked quickly to verify she didn’t still have the hairbrush with her. I’d avoided crying but the sight of that thing might’ve made me get weepy. I hate it. I put my hands in my lap, then decided to cover myself with a pillow.

“I’m trying to understand,” Mom began, “why this is still an issue. We’ve dealt with you breaking curfew several times this summer, and each time you’ve promised to not do it again, but here we are again this morning.”

“I’m sorry. I just lost track of time.” That was a lie. I was having a great time and didn’t want to leave. I did what Taylor suggested, weighed what I was doing against the consequences and decided the party was worth the spanking. It certainly felt that way at the time, and I hoped it would again when the burning in my bottom went away.

“That’s always your excuse, Abigail. Give me your phone.”

“What? You can’t be serious! We agreed you wouldn’t take my phone away.” That was part of the deal.

“I’m not taking your phone away. I’m setting an alarm on it.” I took my phone off my dresser, unlocked it for her, and handed it over.

She tapped around and said, “Weeknights, 10pm.”

“I have to be home at ten?” That’s so early!

Mom sighed in pretty obvious annoyance and tapped a few more buttons before handing me my phone back. “No, I’m not changing your curfew. I set an alarm one hour earlier than your curfew to remind you to come home on time. Do not turn those alarms off. Think of them as a spanking prevention technique.” She sort of laughed at her little joke, just a scoff and a smile. Me, not so much. I was thinking I was going to need a new excuse the next time I came home after curfew. Mom saw I didn’t think it was funny. She scooched closer to me and put her arm around me.

“You know I don’t think this is funny,” she reminded me. “I really don’t like doing this. I’d stop in heartbeat if you would agree to going back to the way things were.”

I did know that, and it made me feel guilty. I didn’t exactly impose this arrangement on Mom, but I kinda sorta did. As for that particular morning, when I’d decided it was worth a spanking to keep dancing, I didn’t factor in upsetting Mom. Or maybe not upset, but definitely making her do something she hates doing. If I were in her position, it would definitely upset me.

I thought about confessing. I wondered what the consequences would be. I thought I would get another spanking for deliberately disobeying and lying. I felt I kinda deserved to be punished for that. But I didn’t know what it would mean long term. Maybe Mom would decide spankings obviously aren’t enough of a deterrent and call the deal off. Or maybe she’d decide she needed to spank me longer and harder when I messed up. It felt pretty darn hard to me already. I didn’t fess up.

“I’m sorry I ... I’m sorry,” is all I said instead.

“I know, baby. I also wanted to talk about this weekend.”

“Again?” We’d talked about it already. She was going out of town for a three-day weekend with her girlfriends, and I had the kids for the weekend.

“Yes. I thought about it and asked Allison to stay over, too.”

“Do you not trust me with the kids?” I watched them when she was at work. I watched them when she went out. A long weekend was nothing. 

“Ryan and Emma can be a handful, and I thought you’d appreciate the help,” Mom claimed. I wasn’t buying it.

“I was going to ask Taylor to come over,” I lied. We were gonna hang out, but I wasn’t planning on asking her to spend the whole weekend with us.

“She can still come over. And Allison will be there.”

“You don’t trust me,” I asserted.

“Honey, I do trust you. It’s just that, well, you’ve been having a bit of a hard time this summer. I thought you’d appreciate a little less stress for the weekend. And besides, Ryan and Emma love Allison, and so do you.”

By ‘hard time,’ I’m pretty sure she meant I’d been in trouble a lot this summer. The thing is, I don’t think I was in more trouble than normal. I think not being grounded just afforded more opportunities for trouble to find me, so it only looked on the outside like I was getting in more trouble. At least, that’s the version of the story I prefer.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Please don’t get an attitude about this. She’ll come over, and you’ll have a good time. If you cop a bad attitude, it’ll be no fun for any of you. Think of her being in charge as a mini vacation.”

“She’s in charge?”

“Yes,” Mom said nervously, I think because she didn’t mean to say that.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“What it sounds like. That she’s in charge.”

“Of me?”

“She and I discussed all the rules of the house, I explained to her how I've been enforcing them, and she’s going to enforce them just like I do. So no potty talk, abide by your curfew, no fruit punch on the couch,” she joked, a rule she established after Ryan ruined a sofa. Mom still reminds him what it costs to reupholster a sofa whenever he forgets the rule. “Is it really that big a deal? She stayed over a bunch of times when I was out of town. You were eighteen the last time.”

“Yeah, before I’d been on my own in college for a year.”

Mom shook her head and looked down, staring at her shoes. She didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. “We didn’t used to fight this much,” she said quietly. I wasn’t sure I heard her right.

“What,” I asked quietly back.

“This summer, it seems like you and I can’t seem to get along. Every time we ... Allison is staying over, and she’s in charge of everyone.” She started to get up. So that’s where I got that bad habit of getting upset and ending conversations kinda harshly, from her.

I reached for her wrist and gently pulled so she’d sit back down. “Mom... I’m sorry.” Been saying that an awful lot lately. “I just ... this has been hard for me. It feels like a lot changed in the last year, and also that a lot didn’t change. I just ... it’s hard having rules again, and I, well, I kinda got used to not relying on you and now it feels like I do even more than before I left.” I got a little weepy.

“Baby,” she said as she hugged me, “it’s been an adjustment for me, too. For all of us. But being back home doesn’t change that you’re a smart, independent young woman. Everyone needs a break sometimes. That’s what summer vacation is for. I really did think having Allison stay over would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you.” I’m not sure I say that enough to her or to anyone. “We’ll have a good time.”

“I know you will.”

It wasn’t just the sense that I was getting a lot more spankings than I thought I would. It was her finding out about the daytime Goodnites and nighttime diapers. It was me being sick twice and her changing me. When I feel embarrassed, I get defensive. I love Allison. I still thought Mom was having her stay over at least in part to keep an eye on me, which wasn’t a big deal if I just looked at it objectively. I was just hypersensitive to being seen or treated as a kid, which was kind of always a thing with me, and probably because I was always so concerned, since I was probably four, with being seen as a big kid even if I was a bedwetter. I was just feeling that defensiveness more now with all the changes in the house, and I didn’t need to. That’s not how anyone important to me sees me.

[herezulo]

Seems like it's going to be an interesting weekend. Certainly, nothing could go wrong.

[Guilend]

I know, she's going to end up pooping her pull up while she's in the corner after Allison puts her there and then Allison takes away her potty privileges while shes there.

 

I'm loving it.

[Alex Bridges]

One of the things I find interesting, and not just in my story, is how after a spanking, it can be forgotten so quickly. It’s a mindset, I suppose. A person just hit you, and within a few minutes, you’re over it.

Personally, that’s not me. I could not get over it, and thinking back on my childhood, a few times I got spanked or threatened with it, particularly unjustly, and it still pisses me off (I did not break that fucking taillight!). It’s one of the reasons I so vehemently disapprove of spanking actual children.

Looking at this chapter, it strikes me that spanking is getting normalized for Abby and Susan because right after, they’re just talking again, which wasn’t the case when their deal started. I didn’t intend that evolution, but it seemed to happen on its own.

[Guilend]

I guess I got lucky. As far as I can remember, I actually earned every spanking I got as a kid. Even those I think back and think, yup I deserved it and every spanking I got my parents always made sure that i knew what i was doing was wrong before i even got the spanking. Like, they'd get into me about doing something and i kept doing it anyway. That sort of thing. Spanking was usually the last resort depending on the situation. Like if they told me not to do something and I waited till the next day to do it again or if I had already got into trouble for the exact same thing before.  I wasn't spanked a lot as a kid. I was actually a pretty good kid.

[Alex Bridges]

2 hours ago, Guilend said:

I guess I got lucky. As far as I can remember, I actually earned every spanking I got as a kid. Even those I think back and think, yup I deserved it and every spanking I got my parents always made sure that i knew what i was doing was wrong before i even got the spanking. Like, they'd get into me about doing something and i kept doing it anyway. That sort of thing. Spanking was usually the last resort depending on the situation. Like if they told me not to do something and I waited till the next day to do it again or if I had already got into trouble for the exact same thing before.  I wasn't spanked a lot as a kid. I was actually a pretty good kid.

I was pretty good too. 

Another memory that still pisses me off is we were at the pool, and I was just walking past my mom who had invited a bunch of her friends, and she told me to sit down in timeout or she’d take my pants down and spank me right there. I had no clue what I’d done, and when I asked she just told me again to sit, and one of her friends made a smart remark. Mom was genuinely pissed, which made it a little scary, too. 
 

I was probably seven or eight, and I was absolutely humiliated and legitimately did not know what I’d done wrong. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done in the past several hours to suddenly find myself in trouble.

I sat there for maybe ten minutes, absolutely indignant and with my feelings hurt before diving back in the pool because I hadn’t done anything and wasn’t going to submit to being punished for no reason.
 

Mom did not follow through on it, and whatever I had supposedly done was never brought up again, nor was I given the apology I deserved. Her friend’s remark (“yeah! What did he do?”) still pisses me off, but I can’t remember which friend. I’d probably still hold a grudge if I knew.

[Sarah Penguin]

[D503]

This is awesome story. Keen to see how deep the rabbit hole goes with "the babysitter"

[dyperaby]

I'd luv to see more of this story!

[Alex Bridges]

1 hour ago, dyperaby said:

I'd luv to see more of this story!

As soon as I finish up another, I’ll return to this.

[dyperaby]

Thank you for your response. 

22 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

As soon as I finish up another, I’ll return to this.

I also should have said, I luv 'Done Adulting, Volumes 1 and 2).  

[Angela Bauer]

On 2/13/2020 at 6:57 AM, Alex Bridges said:

As soon as I finish up another, I’ll return to this.

Alex, those words have made me super happy!

I have adored your stories for ages. As with my own stories I avoid naming favorites. That being said, FEAR OF MISSING OUT strikes a familiar chord for me. I have been in a funk since last November when Chapter 19 did not appear. Over the first 18 chapters I came to love Susan, Aunt Lisa, Cousin Alison and even that scamp Abie.

In my real life I share many traits with Abie: we both have significant bladder control issues; we both were teenagers when we first got spanked; we both have an aunt and her daughter living near by. My Aunt Betsy is ten years younger than my Mom, who started out strongly anti-spanking; Her oldest child Carole is a girl six years my junior. After I had seen Betsy spank Carole for the third time in less than a week, while she was crying it out with her nose in a corner I hugged her and told her she had my love and sympathy.

Carole's reply shocked me: "Angela, your behavior shocks me. I don't deserve your sympathy because I know Mommy did the right thing when she spanked me. I misbehaved so I deserved this spanking. If I were your mother I'd have started spanking you when you were a toddler. Maybe then you wouldn't have become such a brat. Trust me, when I'm a mother I will spank my kids even if other kids in the neighborhood do not get spanked! Now leave me alone so I can use my Corner Time thinking about why my bare bottom just experienced Mommy's hairbrush!"

Fortunately that day I was wearing a just-in-case diaper because I wet as Carole was scolding me.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 19 (Abby)

 

 

         Friends get in fights. Cousins get in fights. Cousins who are friends get in fights. Really not a big deal, unless you were in my situation that particular summer. I mean, Allison and I have always been close. For a while when she became a teenager and I was still a kid, we drifted apart a little, but other than that, we’ve been besties our whole lives. We’ve gotten in the odd fight, and we did what friends do when that happens: we stayed pissed for a couple days and made up.

         We both went into the weekend with an attitude, I think, but mine was at least justified. I always liked that Allie was my babysitter when I was little, and when I was in high school, it was great having her stay over when Mom went out of town. We had fun. Before Allison got old enough for that, we stayed with Aunt Lisa. What a shit show those times were.

But the facts here were pretty plain: I was nineteen years old; it was my job to watch the kids; and Mom could dress it up however she wanted, but obviously she felt more comfortable with Allison over for the weekend. She said she thought it would be a nice break for me, but then she said Allison was in charge. What did that even mean? It couldn’t be both; it couldn’t mean ‘you’re an independent young woman who deserves some time away from wrangling kids’ and ‘she’s here to enforce the rules you can’t be trusted to follow.’ Maybe in Mom’s head it could, but not in mind. So yes, I was resentful at Mom, and I was resentful at Allie.

         And I wasn’t wrong to be. I still suspected she knew way more about what would happen under this spanking-instead-of-grounding arrangement than she ever let on. If she didn’t, then she was negligent. If Mom said this was supposed to be a break, that’s what I was going to do. But Allie had all the room in the world to decide what “in charge” meant, and she chose “on my case.” At least, that’s how I felt about it.

On Saturday just after the kids were in bed, I said goodnight to Taylor at the door, and I just wanted to get in bed and binge watch something.

         “Goodnight,” I said to Allison as I walked past the kitchen toward my room.

         “Hang on a sec,” Allie said back. She couldn’t just say goodnight back.

         “What?”

         “Come talk for a sec.”

         “I would, but I’m tired and just wanna go to bed, so …” I was trying to be polite, and I was trying to just not have a conversation for both our sakes’.

         “It’ll only take a minute.” So I went into the kitchen and sat down, and she dried her hands on a dish towel and sat down next to me. She wanted to talk; surely she knew about what, but there was an awkward pause before she asked, “Is everything alright?”

         “It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

         “Well, I hope we have a fun day tomorrow.” Give her credit for being diplomatic if transparent.

         “Okay. I hope so, too.”

And I had just started to stand up to say goodnight again when she dropped the diplomacy and outright asked, “Alright, why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been rude since I walked in the door. I didn’t even do anything.”

O fucking really? But I was still trying to be calm about it. I just wanted to end the conversation. In fact, I never even raised my voice. “You’re here. This was supposed to be my weekend alone with the kids, and then Mom asked you to come over, so how do you think that makes me feel? Yeah, you might say I’m not thrilled.”

“Sorry you feel that way, but your mom didn’t say anything like that to me about it. She just said she was going on her trip this year and would I stay over. I just said yes. I’ve stayed over every time she goes out of town for, like, four years.”

         “And you didn’t put any thought into how that makes me feel. Ike Mom doesn’t trust, me, and you must think she’s right. I’m not a kid. I can watch the kids on my own; I can take care of myself. I don’t need you over here.”

         “I didn’t say you did, and I don’t know what your mom thinks. I didn’t think much about it; I stay over every year.”

         “But Mom told you you’re in charge, so what else could it mean that you just said, ‘Okay?’”

         “That I’d be in charge, but it’s not like I’ve been barking orders.”

         “You won’t leave me alone.”

         “Like when?”

         “Like right now! I just wanna go to bed.”

         “I just wanted to see if there was something I could help with. Figure out what’s bothering you so much and snap you out of it.”

         “That’s my point. You’ve been hovering. I can manage my own bad mood. I don’t need cheering up. I just need some space.”

         “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just … be mad at your Mom, but I’m just doing what she told me to. I don’t deserve the attitude.”

         I think we reached détente. She said sorry; I was about to say sorry. It would’ve ended right there.

She. Just. Had. To. Mumble: “You’re lucky you don’t have my mom with that attitude.”

Now, I didn’t yell, like I said. I was irritated, then I was ready to walk away from it, and then she had to go and bring up Aunt Lisa. Yeah, it made me angry. It was exactly the kind of comment I expected to hear from Aunt Lisa, whatever her shady role in this stupid arrangement really was. I get that Allie said it because she was upset and didn’t mean it or even mean for me to hear it, but I did. Or maybe she did mean it. I don’t know.

At least I didn’t yell. “That’s because your mother is bitch.” Seriously. A bitch. With a capital B, which stands for Bitch.

“Alright, that’s across the line. Uncalled for,” Allie shot back. She didn’t raise her voice either.

“Is it? What role exactly did she play in this stupid arrangement you talked me into? And why did you anyway?”

“I thought it would help. You can’t stay out of trouble for more than week!”

“I’m nineteen! I only get in trouble because of all these stupid rules. No rules, no trouble. I went two whole semesters without getting in trouble.”

“If you don’t need rules, then why are your grades so bad? And why follow rules anyway? Huh? No one is making you. It’s because you know they’re good for you.”

“It’s because I wanna live at home.”

“So just follow the rules then! You’re mad at me because you keep getting in trouble. Take some responsibility for it; you talked yourself into the arrangement because you were trying to get out of the consequences of not following the rules.”

“The summer is short, and I wanna see my friends.”

“Again, just follow the rules. Don’t break rules, don’t get grounded. You made a bargain – you want to live here, you follow the rules. It’s not that hard”

“You can be so fucking superior sometimes. Also just like your mother.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re lecturing me about following the rules? You? The twenty-four year old who gets spanked is telling me I should follow rules? If you’re so great at it, then what the fuck are you and your mother even doing anyway?”

“I’m self-aware enough to know it helps me to be accountable.”

Really, too tired, and this was clearly not going anywhere. What was the point anyway? I was only getting angrier, and she was, too, so I said, “Whatever. Let’s … let’s just talk later.”

“Hold on.”

“What? What? Fucking what?” Again, I didn’t raise my voice. I may have whined, but since my version of events isn’t always the one that makes it into the history books, let’s just be clear that I didn’t throw some giant tantrum.

“That.”

“What?”

“Language.”

O. My. God. Really? She wanted to harp on me about cursing? I deserve a medal for not throwing a tantrum. I’m old enough to choose my own words, just like I choose to try to not swear around Mom because it offends her and only creates problems, and while I’m not a hundred percent successful, it’s not the end of the world, either.

I closed my eyes and brought my hand to my forehead, took a short breath and let out a sigh. “Sorry.” If apologizing got me closer to bed out of that conversation, why not apologize?

“Your mom told me you’ve been having trouble remembering not to swear this summer.”

“And?”

“And she told me she warned you last time you were in trouble if you did it again.”

How am I the less mature of the two of us right then? “You’re gonna tell on me? Like we’re kids?”

“Did your mom specifically remind you not to swear before she left?” She did, actually. “Did she tell you I was in charge and was going to enforce the rules?” She said that, too.

Still, I just couldn’t believe that’s where we landed. “So you’re gonna tattle? Really?”

She sighed and leaned forward. “No, Abigail, I’m going to enforce the rules like I said I would.”

“No you are not. No you are fucking not. Just … I’m going to bed. Maybe you’ll be yourself again in the morning.” I stood up, and she stood up.

“Then I have to tell your mom, and I’m guessing she’s gonna be pretty upset about this whole weekend.”

“You’re my cousin. You are not punishing me for something that’s not even wrong anyway.”

“I made a commitment to your mother, you knew that, and you told her you’d stop swearing, and she told you what would happen if you forgot again.”

At first I thought she was being vindictive. We fought; I said mean things; she was pulling her trump card and abusing her alleged authority. If that were the case, I was ready to tell her to go fuck herself and I’d deal with Mom when the time came. What-the-fuck-ever.

But something about her tone and the look in her eye caught my attention. It was actually a little horrifying. And definitely a symptom of her upbringing. She wasn’t being vindictive. She was being one hundred and ten percent sincere. I couldn’t even call her unfair, because she was being entirely fair. Strict, but fair. Just like her mom but without seeming to take any pleasure in it.

Still, I had to try, so I said, “You’re just mad at me. You’re not even, like, bothered by it.”

“Us fighting has nothing to do with it, and have you ever heard me curse?” Actually, no, I hadn’t. “And whether I’m bothered by it doesn’t matter. I told your mom I’d enforce her rules just like she does.”

“But … she didn’t mean this!”

“She did.”

A long time ago, I noticed that when I take a test and know the question, I write bigger, literally. My handwriting is bigger, and my letters are smaller when I’m not sure. My voice does the same thing; I get quieter when I’m not sure. “But,” I said at half the volume I’d been speaking, “she couldn’t have.”

“She explained to me exactly how she’s been disciplining you.”

“I won’t let you.”

“That’s fine. I’m not gonna force you. Your mom can deal with it.”

I remembered how Mom dealt with it the last time I swore. It was like someone turned her nitrous system on the way she was swinging her hairbrush at my butt. I didn’t know how she’d react to me swearing and then not just accepting that Allie was in charge. Mom did me tell me not to swear, and she did tell me Allie was in charge, and she did tell me that she told Allie to enforce all the same rules the same way she does. Kind of a question of how much more trouble I wanted to bite off.

“Do you have to?” That sounded a little more plaintive than I meant it to.

“Sit,” she said, and I did. “Yes, I have to either do what I said I’d do, or I have to tell her. That’s what we were just talking about. I made a commitment, and I have to follow through. That’s me taking responsibility for what I said. Do you understand that?” I just nodded. “You’re not in trouble because we fought. You’re in trouble because you swore, and it’s against the rules. Do you believe that?”

“But … then we can’t be friends anymore.” And I meant that, really. I wasn’t trying to get out of it.

“Of course we can. You need a spanking to remind you to follow the rules. It’s just one friend helping another to fix a problem.” She was sincere about that, too. If she weren’t, I’d have just dealt with Mom, but it makes sense when you think about it. A spanking is such a common thing in her house; why would that change a relationship? She apparently thought I needed a spanking for most of my life, so to her, no, it wouldn’t change our relationship. I wasn’t so sure about it from my side of it, though.

“But,” she said, “I can give you a choice. Your mother told that last time you swore, she said she was going to wash your mouth out and give you a spanking. Which would you rather do?”

Part of me was having trouble paying attention. I kept replaying those conversations with Mom. She did threaten to wash my mouth out, and she did tell me she explained to Allison what the rules were and what the consequences were. She had downplayed it to avoid us getting into even more of an argument than we were having, but she said it. I just didn’t think, I mean, I guess I just didn’t think she meant it literally. What’s that everyone says nowadays? ‘Take me seriously but not literally?’ Guess I should’ve done both.

I didn’t think I really had any excuses left. Allison was being the exact opposite of unreasonable. I’d be in a lot of trouble with Mom. I couldn’t say she didn’t warn me. And I didn’t want her to come home and directly into a problem; that’s not fair to her, and would probably have meant even more trouble. And I’ve had my mouth washed out with soap, and it lasts longer and is much worse.

Still, I couldn’t say it, so instead I sorta squeaked out, “No soap.” I didn’t even have the presence of mind to ask for it to be over my pajama bottoms or to ask to go to the bathroom. If Mom told her that part, I guess Allie forgot in the moment. Not that I had to pee, but that I would’ve had the chance to take off the Goodnite I’d put on when I changed after getting home from the pool. It disappears pretty well under baggy pajama bottoms.

“Okay,” Allie said, “Let’s do this, and then you can go to bed, and tomorrow will be a fresh, new day.” She motioned for me to stand, and it felt like sorta like an out-of-body experience. She pivoted her chair so it was facing out, and she gave a gentle tug on me so I was at her side, and then my pajama bottoms were down. She paused, and I remembered what I was wearing. A danger of them, I guess, getting so used to them that you forget you’re even wearing a pull-up. Kind of the idea also, but just then, if I could’ve been any more embarrassed I would’ve been. The last time Allie saw me in Goodnites was probably when I was six or seven. She’d seen my bare butt a couple weeks back, and that was preferable. She was about to see that, too.

“We have to be really quiet,” I mumbled. The kids aren’t supposed to hear it.

“I know,” she said. “Lay over my knee.” I was shaking, but at least she was letting me keep my front hidden until I was over her knee. Mixed blessing, though. I’d rather she see my front than touch my Goodnite. Least it was dry.

There I was over her knee, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t wake the kids. I grabbed the chair legs. I figured if she really were her mother’s daughter, this would be a nasty spanking even if she didn’t have a hairbrush or ruler or spoon.

She left the Goodnite up for the first spank. It hurt through it, and around it, anyway. I thought she was just taking her time. I took it quietly and expected to be bare before she was done. I’m sure Mom told her that’s how I get spanked. It was a lot worse, a lot more childish, getting spanked through a pull-up. I definitely would rather she just bared my bottom, in retrospect. Her touching it at all would be embarrassing, but over her knee? Much worse. I was sort of eager for her to tug it down.

“… and ten,” Allie said. I waited for her to tug the pull-up down. And waited. “You can get up.”

Confused. Lot of emotions in general. She motioned for me to sit and then reached over and took both of my hands in hers. I had a lump in my throat the size of a softball and was barely audible.

“Do you understand why you got that spanking?”

“Because I broke the swearing rule.”

“Not because we argued or because of your attitude. Do you believe that?”

“Yes … but … That’s not how Mom …”

“I know, but she’s not the one giving the spanking, so we did it my way. If I have to give you another one before she gets home tomorrow, it won’t be so gentle.”

“I won’t break any more rules tomorrow.”

“Good. And I won’t tell your mom, but I do think you should. It will show her you’re taking responsibility.”

“She might get mad.”

“She won’t. I’m sure she won’t. You got your punishment, and now it’s over … C’mere.” She leaned forward and gave me a very thorough hug. I wasn’t upset. Just a little overcome. With the spanking, but also how Allie really was, despite it all, being sweet about the whole thing; and with the weekend; and with the argument. We both made some valid points. I sat back, and she brushed a tear off my cheek.

“All’s forgiven. You learned your lesson. Why don’t you go get ready for bed, and I’ll bring you a glass of water and we can talk a little more,” she said.

“Okay.” I stood, and she reached down and pulled my pajama bottoms back up.

“We’re still friends, aren’t we,” she asked.

I nodded yes because I didn’t want to wake the kids.

[Sarah Penguin]

[D503]

Awesome chapter. I love the slow regression.

[Guilend]

?

[Angela Bauer]

Alex, thanks so very much for the excellent update.

Of course I have been speculating how things would go with Allison in charge of Abby as well as the younger kids.

It was merciful to hand spank Abby over her pull-up. It could be that was more effective than bare-bottom with the hairbrush. For Abby a hand spanking must seem very childish.

Thanks again. I know you are writing a lot of stories, so as much as I love all of your stories, FEAR OF MISSING OUT has  special place in my heart.

[gpboy]

I must again completely concur with Angela.  I think my relatively recent realization of an intrinsic spanking need dis-related to age, which is the main theme of this story, makes this a very interesting exploration.  I relate greatly to Abby because 19 would have been an age when I would have most benefited, had I realized this need.  It was about at 11 when I began thinking I was probably beyond the reach of a corporal punishment.  While there was plenty I probably could have been spanked for growing up, I was never caught for a single thing.  I was close to 18 by the time I was pretty certain I was beyond any form of corporal punishment happening again.  My great concealment allowed no extrinsic accountability.  By coasting on a somewhat false reputation, I did okay for myself up to the point my gradual lessening of self-discipline reached a critical mass in those early college years at a time when I needed it the most.  So this story has a special place in my heart as well.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 20 (Abby)

 

My instinct was to say nothing to Mom if Allie didn’t. If I’d gotten in trouble for some other reason, I wouldn’t have worried so much about it, but Mom is so weird about swearing. I just don’t get it. It’s widely accepted by pretty much everyone these days to the point that it’s fair to question what even counts as a swear, but not only does she disapprove of it - which, okay, a lot of people still do - it’s like a cardinal sin with her. I could probably steal a car without making her so angry.

Still, Allie had a point about being honest with her just to see if she’d see me a little more maturely for owning up to it. Irony of ironies - owning up to getting spanked by the babysitter could make Mom see me as more, not less, mature. And on the other hand, if I didn’t tell her she might find out. I don’t think the kids heard, but they may have, and it wouldn’t be the first time they blabbed on me without meaning to. Kids just say embarrassing shit.

So I went and knocked on her doorframe after she changed for bed. I figured the best time to say something was when she was tired and about to turn the light off. I was ready for bed, too.

“Mom,” I asked as I knocked.

“You can come in,” she said as she turned around and sat with her back against her pillows. “Come sit with me.” 

I walked in and climbed on the bed. “Did you have a good time,” I asked even though she’d said so already.

“We did. We’ve been going on that trip together since before you were born. Maybe one day you can come with, keep the tradition alive.”

“I’d like that.”

“The kids had fun with Allie,” Mom said.

“They did ... and I did, too.” That was partially true, I think. Sunday wasn’t bad. Sort of got more on the same page with her.

“I thought you would,” Mom said. She took off her glasses and set them on her nightstand. 

“Um, I mean we mostly did. I, um, got in a little trouble. Just a little. Not a big deal, really. And, um, I just wanted you to know so you didn’t think I was hiding anything. Anyway... “

Mom frowned a bit, not a lot and probably more at me being vague and then trying to change the subject. She told me, “Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”

“I, uh, swore a few times absentmindedly. You know, I don’t mean anything by it, I just forget.”

Mom tightened her lips. “We’ve talked about that so many times. I don’t know what else to do to make you remember to pay attention to the words you say.”

“I know. I think I’m better, though, than I used to be about it.”

“We’ve been working on it since you were about ten.” I opted not to point out that I wasn’t as bad about it as I was at seventeen. Not around Mlm, at least. “Anyway, what did Allison do?”

Hoo boy. What’s at least as embarrassing as what Allison did? Telling someone else.

“She, um, waited until the kids were in bed, and she, uh, gave me a lecture about it, and then she, uh ...”

Couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t. Even trying to say it made me feel about three years old.

“She spanked your bottom?”

Ya know, if Mom doesn’t want me to swear, she shouldn’t say stuff like that, because in my head, my response was, ‘Fucking hell, Mom! Do you hafta say it in the most embarrassing fucking way possible?’ Instead, I just nodded.

“Good. That’s what I asked her to do. I know that must’ve been very unpleasant for you, but I decided it’s best that rules and consequences are consistent for you all summer.”

To which I nodded again, barely. I did my part. I owned up to it. No need to keep talking about it.

“I hope you cooperated,” she said. I took that to be a actual question, so I answered truthfully.

“I argued, a bit, but I went along with it.”

“Did she do as a good a job as I do?”

“Mhmm.” Well, depends on how you define ‘good,’ right?

“Okay. I’m proud of you for telling me. I know that was hard.”

“Are you gonna ... ya know?”

“Spank you, too? Of course not. You got a consequence, and now it’s over. If you had fought her on it, we’d be having this conversation downstairs where the kids can’t hear,” Mom said with a kind of super awkward smile. “C’mere.”

She opened her arms and I leaned over and hugged her. She rubbed my back, and I didn’t notice her hand drifting down until I felt and heard a wump. She gave my butt a pat and then a few more, fast. I tried not to react. I’ve seen her do that to other people, and all those people were toddlers in diapers. After putting one down or after picking one up or as one walked by. Five quick swats that can’t hurt through a diaper. Adults just pat diapered butts. I don’t know if it’s cultural or evolutionary. Maybe humans are hardwired to pat kids’ butts to make sure they’re clean without even realizing that’s what they’re doing. 

“How are you feeling,” she asked me. 

Well, like a put upon kid, but I think she meant more generally, so I answered, “Okay. Glad you’re home.” Which was true.

“Healthwise, everything okay? Or same as always at least?”

“Yeah. Same as always ... Wish I had switched to diapers a long time ago.” Well, didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it was true, and with her hand on it, it just came to mind.

“I’m sorry. I guess that’s my fault,” Mom said.

“It’s okay. You were trying to do what you thought was best.”

“I should‘ve listened to you more. But I’m listening now. You just tell me what you need.”

“Thanks. Can we go do something this week, just the two of us?”

“Sure we can.”

I wished her good night and told her I loved her, and she said it back. Allie was right, and as much as I hate admitting it, none of it was as embarrassing as it would’ve been a month ago. That’s kinda the scary part. It means it’s becoming normal.