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

[Angela Bauer]

Hi Alex,

That is very interesting what you shared about the new Natalie Portman movie.

I also noticed you have changed your DD name. Very nice.

Is there any chance you will continue FEAR OF MISSING OUT?

Best Always, Angela

[Alex Bridges]

2 hours ago, Angela Bauer said:

Hi Alex,

That is very interesting what you shared about the new Natalie Portman movie.

I also noticed you have changed your DD name. Very nice.

Is there any chance you will continue FEAR OF MISSING OUT?

Best Always, Angela

When it’s convenient for me, yes. I have a job, a body to take care of, and a lot else besides. And considering all that, I still post better writing and do it more frequently than most authors here. ?

[Sarah Penguin]

30 minutes ago, Alex Bridges said:

When it’s convenient for me, yes. I have a job, a body to take care of, and a lot else besides. And considering all that, I still post better writing and do it more frequently than most authors here. ?

oh noes our authory friend gots nommed by da bridges and all are left are some random letters poor guy...  Should we send a fruitbasket? Or a hope you're feeling more your self soon card and a dictionary?  Not really sure obs da protocalls for this sort of thing.Anyone know what to sends? *hugs da alexes*

[Angela Bauer]

To me writing for DD is all about having fun. When I have the time, have a story idea and am in the mood, I write these stories. When those conditions to nor prevail. I do not write. As an attorney my job requires a lot of writing every day.

I hardly expect anyone else to contribute to DD when they consider doing so to be a chore.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 15

 

Not really wanting to hang out too close to Mom and the kids, and not really feeling very sociable, I moved my chair as far from them as I could without sitting apart. I figured that would tick Mom off, and I’d done enough of that for one weekend. I knew at some point the kids would make me get up and go play with them in the pool, and my swim skirt only hid my butt so well. I actually like the pool and the water, just not when everyone can see someone had spanked me in the very recent past. I buried my nose in a book, or at least that was the plan until Taylor texted me.

Shelby called me this morning. How are you, she texted.

Recovered. And no, it wasn’t worth it.

So you did get in trouble. What are you doing now?

I’m at the pool with Mom and the kids.

Having fun? Can I come up?

I didn’t really have a good reason to say no, and anyway, having Taylor to hang out with would be a nice distraction from the events of the morning, or so I thought. I figured she’d also keep me out of trouble. Not that I was worried about it, but Mom’s warning that there would be no more warnings today had me freaked out. I knew that second hairbrush was in her purse. And then to top it off, my bag had two Goodnites in it for after, in case we went out to dinner. Quite the embarrassing packing list between us.

Yeah. We’re in our usual corner. 

Cool. See you in 20 or so.

We were at the pool often enough to have a usual corner. I pretty much grew up here. Every summer we’d be up here by ten in the morning and not go home until almost dinner time unless we had a camp or something. On days Mom worked or had school, she hired a sitter, who would bring us up here and do the same thing. I didn’t know how many people can’t really swim until I was in high school. They sorta kinda do, but only in the sense that they can get from one side of the pool to the other.

Taylor joined us at the pool a lot in the summer when she wasn’t working. $5 to get in is cheap for a whole day’s entertainment. Of course, we had a family membership. We should’ve told the manager Taylor lived with us. I’m not sure anymore how that lie would’ve gone over with Mom.

I folded my tee shirt and laid it over my eyes. I was in the happy place where you’re not quite conscious and not quite asleep when I heard Mom greet Taylor. I felt a little guilty for wishing she hadn’t arrived so fast. I would’ve liked the nap. Of course, falling asleep in public is a bit of a risk for me, but if there’s one place I might be able to get away with it, it’s the pool. Hence the navy blue swimsuit. 

“Hey,” Taylor said as she stood over me. “Interrupting your nap?”

“You would’ve been in about one more minute.” Taylor walked away, commandeered an empty chair and dragged it back to mine, putting herself on the side away from Mom.

“How late were you guys out anyway?”

“Not that late. I was in bed by 12:30.” I repeated my version of the story to Taylor. Shelby has a habit of remembering things with advantages.

“Why did you even go with her,” Taylor asked.

“Because I haven’t seen her in a while, and it sounded like it might be fun. I didn’t think it would be such a huge event.”

“Everything with Shelby is an event. The girl brings the drama.”

“I should’ve said no.”

“Or suggested something else. Do we need to call Mr. Mackey to talk about peer pressure,” Taylor joked.

“It’s bad, mkay.”

“You really ought to know better by now.”

“You gonna lecture me, too? Because I already got that today.”

“And?”

“Yes, I got an ‘and’ too. But you knew that already.”

“Sorry. You feeling okay? Does it still hurt?” 

“Some.” And it still felt weird that Taylor wasn’t more, I don’t know, something about this. It would’ve felt more natural for her to make fun of me or something. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when your friends gets a spanking? The fact that she didn’t seem to think much of it made it seem, I don’t know, like she saw it as natural for me to be subject to that kind of discipline.

“Maybe the water will feel good,” she suggested.

“I’d rather not get up.”

“Why? Can you see it still?”

“Some.”

“Well, wrap your towel around your waist, and take it off at the very last moment.” So I sat up and wrapped my towel around myself before I even stood. Sitting up hurt, so I figured I must still have been pretty pink back there. Felt it a little bit with each step, too.

Taylor walked behind me. “You wanna get a look that bad,” I said.

“Just blocking other people’s views.” I think she was being half honest there. “But let me see,” she added when we were at the edge of the pool.

In what must’ve been one of the least graceful movements of my life, I tried to remove my towel as I got into the pool without getting the towel wet. I should count myself lucky I didn’t fall in or drop the towel in.

“You get a look,” I asked as I paddled out of her way. Ya know, I’d wanted Taylor to distract me from it, and here I was answering her questions about and asking my own. That’s my fault. If the whole point of a spanking as opposed to grounding is it’s over when it’s over, I really should’ve learned sooner to stop thinking about it and definitely to stop talking about it. I don’t know why I’m so bad at dropping a topic, even with myself, and shutting down a conversation. My mouth really doesn’t know when to stop. My brain neither sometimes.

“A bit,” she said with a funny expression on her face. “Was your mom pretty pissed?”

“Is it still...”

“Looks like you got a sunburn or like you were very naughty. Water feel good?”

“Yeah. And Mom was more the whole ‘disappointed’ than angry thing. At least at first.”

“Why just at first?”

“I accidentally swore.”

“You know she hates that.” Was my friend really lecturing me on my own mother?

“It slipped out while ... you know.”

“Hurt that bad?”

“Yeah, and then a lot worse. Your parents don’t seem to care about swearing as much.”

“I’ve seen my mom flick my dad off behind his back, so no, not as much of a thing.”

It occurred to me again that Mom really had kinda changed the moment I dropped that F-bomb. Like whatever hesitation she felt, if that’s even the right word, disappeared. Like I pushed a button, and suddenly Mom was a lot more confident in what she was doing. She’d never done the simultaneous spank-lecture before, but she seemed natural doing it that morning.

“I really didn’t mean to swear. Or the party, either.”

“I know. Still ...”

“What?”

“I’d have ... Shelby is Shelby. You should’ve shown better judgment than she did.”

“What would you have done,” I asked.

“I’d have spanked you, too.”

What? Why on earth would she say that? That wasn’t even what I had asked. 

“What,” I asked quietly. More quietly than she had.

“It freaks me out that you’d stay at that kind of party after you’d realized what it was. You ought to know better.”

“Geez, Taylor, I meant about Shelby. What would you have done about Shelby? What’s the matter with you?” I didn’t keep my voice down that time. I wasn’t shouting, but anyone standing nearby would’ve heard.

“Shh.” I’m sorry, did she just shush me?I don’t take to being shushed well. “I thought you meant ...”

I cut her off, “I can tell what you thought I meant. Is no one on my side? Does everyone really think I needed that to figure out getting arrested is bad?”

“Are you going to go with Shelby to a party like that again?”

“No.”

“Are you going to leave next time if she takes you to one unexpectedly, or if somewhere you go turns out to be like that?”

“Yeah.” At least I hoped I would.

“Then maybe you got exactly what you needed. I’d have left when I saw the place, even if she didn’t leave with me.”

“You’d leave her there?”

“Just because I’m the mom of the friend group doesn’t mean I’m gonna get myself in trouble or put myself in danger just because she does.”

Well, that made sense.

“But c’mon,” Taylor said to me, “that’s not why you stayed. You stayed because you didn’t wanna be the uncool friend. You don’t even like stuff like that.” So she had me there. I really don’t like those kinds of parties. I just didn’t want to disappoint Shelby.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall of the pool. “I still don’t like that you said that,” I whined. “I need at least one person who doesn’t think I’m so hopeless I need ... that.” Mom obviously thought I did since she went along with it. Allison obviously did since this had been her idea. Their opinions plus Taylor’s matter most to me. 

“You’re not hopeless,” Taylor quickly said. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

“Cause everyone thinks I’m just incurably bad at making good choices,” I sniffed.

Taylor leaned against my shoulder. “You’re not that bad at it, and if everyone thought you couldn’t learn they wouldn’t try. I’m sorry I said that.” I huffed in response. “I just love you too much to watch you get hurt from something.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“I am the mom of the friend group ... you know I don’t judge you for this, right?”

“For what?”

“For your arrangement with your mom. If it works for the two of you, then good. I think it’s kinda cool you were brave enough to do it, to even bring it up really. It shows that you are mature. You just need a little more help than most people our age, but you knew that, right, because you asked.”

“I only asked because I didn’t wanted to be grounded.” I fooled my arms and kicked the bottom of the pool. 

“I think you did know, though.”

I sighed in response.

“You know what else,” Taylor said, “I think you’re a phenomenal role model to Ryan and Emma. Really.”

“I try to be.”

“You are. Your Mom wouldn’t let you watch them if she didn’t think you made good choices with them.”

I was learning that talking about this stuff made me feel worse. I was over it, for the most part, and wasn’t really dwelling on it until Taylor arrived and started asking questions. Maybe that was partly my fault for answering. I should’ve just changed the subject, but I’m not good at that. The more she talked about it, the more it made me feel like a screw up. It’s one thing to question an action you take, but I was questioning my judgment generally. And now I had Taylor trying to cheer me up.

I didn’t know it, but when I was in the ladies’ room Taylor talked to Mom about me. The gist, I learned later, is Taylor told Mom she knew what was going on and that she was worried about my self-esteem. Mom thanked her, and the two of them promised each other they’d work on that and keep each other in the loop.

[Angela Bauer]

I love this new chapter.

[Sarah Penguin]

Has an image of them circling endlessly around our protagonist,  night and day.

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 16

 

Since Mom brought back corner time, she had only ordered me into timeout as a stand-alone (get it?) punishment. She hadn’t made me stand in the corner before or after a spanking, so when she did I wasn’t sure if it meant I was in more trouble or not. I do know that I should’ve gone to the bathroom beforehand because this half hour was stretching itself out ridiculously long. Or maybe it had only been five minutes.

We hadn’t discussed the rules of corner time. I wasn’t sure if I could leave or not. I looked at my underwear drawer where I kept some Goodnites and wondered if I could quickly put one on, but I hated that idea, using one on purpose. Or I could sneak out of my room, but I wondered how much trouble I’d be in if I was caught. Leaving timeout when I was a kid had been treated as the equivalent of starting a nuclear war.

Then I realized how stupid I was being. I’m an adult, after all. It bugged me, as I sat and peed, this slide back into the mindset of a kid, not even a teen, as the sanctions I was subject to and my mother’s unexpected willingness to use them, grew. 

I will admit I lingered before leaving the bathroom, not wanting to face the music. There are certain things that are and are not a big deal, depending on your perspective. Take, for instance, shoplifting. Now, I think we can all agree that stealing, say, a TV is wrong. But lip gloss? It wants to be stolen. That’s why it’s so portable. So rewind about 40 minutes.

“Did you guys have fun at the mall,” my Mom asked me and Taylor as we sat in the kitchen. I had just been paid, so I had a great time. “Show me what you got.”

We each laid out our purchases, in my case a skirt I really liked that was all flouncy and pretty for summer.

“Pretty!” Mom said as she held it up. 

“Taylor wanted it, but I called dibs,” I said proudly. Taylor stuck her tongue out at me.

“It’ll look better on you anyway, “Taylor said. “It’s really more for someone your height.”

“Catty much?”

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, dislodging the lip gloss. I didn’t even notice it, but as luck would have it, it rolled right into Mom’s shoe.

“You dropped this,” Mom said as she started to hand it back to me.

“Oh, thanks,” I said and reached for it. As my fingers brushed it she withdrew her hand, taking a closer look at it.

“Did you get this today?”

“Yeah,” I said nonchalantly. Sure, it was an act, but also, I just didn’t care. So the store was out a few dollars. Loss is built into their overhead, right?

“Got the price tag on it.” Mom had her reasons to be suspicious, specifically the six or seven times she caught me shoplifting between the ages of 12 and 16. It reached the point where every time I went out, she made me empty my pockets and produce a receipt for anything I came home with. I never did get caught at the stores, though. And it’s not like an everyday thing. Just once in a while, a tube of lip gloss, an apple, a pack of gum. Not like I’m klepto or anything. Just someone who appreciates a hell of a bargain.

“So? I just didn’t peel it off. I’ve had it a while.” At that point, Taylor was trying to make herself inconspicuous. She was doing a great impression of someone who had gone deaf in the past eight seconds and was looking across the room like the fridge was a new and exciting technology. That was her standard tactic during the many, many times I had gotten in trouble near or with her growing up.

Sometimes I wonder how much trouble I could’ve avoided in life if I had learned to lie better, or just to shut up, because I really set myself for what Mom said next.

She opened it and said, “Never been used. Okay, Abigail, receipts.”

“Seriously, Mom? I ... must’ve had it confused with another tube. I left home with it.”

“Abigail Marie,” Mom said and let it hang there while she grabbed my shopping bag off the table and fished out the receipt. “Not on this receipt. Got anymore?”

“It ...”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare tell me another lie.”

“It’s not a big deal, Mom. It’s a few dollars.” Or perhaps if I had practiced just sticking to a lie, even a bad one.

“Go to your room.”

“Mom...”

“Now, please!” At this point the embarrassment factor had quickly gone from about a 1 to a 10 with all this happening in front of Taylor. I felt my ears burning, and Taylor looked almost as embarrassed for me, or for herself, or both, and I looked from Mom, who looked supremely pissed, to Taylor and back, and I wanted to just walk out of the house. Put my foot down, and just refuse, rebel against my mom just because Taylor was there and she could’ve waited to confront me about it, or just not. I might have done it, too, if Taylor hadn’t said what was easily the most humiliating thing any of my friends have ever said to me.

“Do as your mother says,” Taylor said when I looked at her again.

“Ugh ...” I pouted. But for whatever reason, her saying it just made me wilt inside, so I  stood up, trying to look dignified when I did it, and starting walking toward my room. I guess I was trying to seem like a grown up, but that’s not how Mom regarded it. 

I was a step past her when she reached out and gave me a spank on the back of my shorts and added, “Drop the attitude and put yourself in a corner until I get there.”

Thus ended what had been a really fun day with Taylor. Fun relationship, really, because after what she had seen, I didn’t think I could ever look at her again. After her quote-unquote advice, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I trotted out of the kitchen before Mom could take another shot and so I didn’t have to hear whatever words passed between them as Taylor said her goodbye.

I spent my stalling time in the bathroom thinking about that, which only made me feel worse. I knew Mom was going to spank me, so that also made me feel worse. I felt pretty stupid for getting caught, so also worse. And I did think back on Mom’s lectures over the years about this stuff, which I was about to hear again. A ball of tears formed in my chest. Another change since the summer: since when am I so quick to tears? I’m not, really, or at least I didn’t used to be. 

I finally left the bathroom. I guess I lingered too long because Mom was in my room when I got there, and she shut the door behind me. The screen saver on my computer told me it actually had been about a half hour.

“Did you go potty?”

“Yes,” I croaked. I didn’t see the hairbrush, so I had that going for me. She turned around and walked to my bed. There it was - in her back pocket. She paused and I guess changed her mind, because she turned away from my bed and went to my desk, pulled out my chair and sat down.

“Abigail,” she said calmly but sternly, “ come stand here.” She pointed to the floor in front of her. I shuffled over, and she started unbuckling my belt, then she slid my shorts and undies to my ankles. No words, no telling me I was gonna get a spanking. No batting her hands away on my part. I just get spankings now, and sometimes it’s just understood that’s about to happen and we don’t need words and I don’t fight back or even argue.

I closed my eyes, exhaled, and felt that ball of tears travel up my chest. I felt that now-familiar electric feeling where the nervousness, the fight-or-flight response I guess, suddenly made my skin feel sensitive and cool. Not fear, exactly, because I’m not afraid of Mom, but something like it. I started to put myself over her knee. I didn’t have anything to say. I just wanted it over with.

Mom stopped me. “Not yet. Do you know why I put you in such a long timeout?” I shook my head. Talking seemed like the best way to make myself get emotional. “Because I was angry and needed time to calm down. Over.”

I laid across her knee with my hands on the floor and feet off it. Instead of a spank, Mom starting talking again.

“You can stay just like this while I talk. I think you listen better in this position. I lost track of how many times I punished you for shop lifting over the years. I thought we had it cured, so you tell me the truth right now. The truth, Abigail. Do you still do this?”

“Occasionally,” I admitted. At least when you’re over the knee getting spanked you have a lot more to focus on than how uncomfortable that position really is. I tried to adjust myself, but there was still a lap digging into my middle.

“I see. How often is that?”

“Every couple of months.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I ... it’s a ... kinda a rush.”

Mom sighed. “You just don’t get it, do you?” She landed a spank when I didn’t respond. “I’m actually asking.”

“Ow! I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Abigail. What do you think would’ve happened if you’d been caught?”

“I’d have gotten banned from the store.”

“You’d have gotten arrested. Maybe not, but that’s a lot more likely than getting banned from the store. And even if it is relatively minor, that would follow you your entire life. For a thrill and a tube of lip gloss. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to spank your butt, you’re going to stay in your room until tomorrow morning except to go to the potty, and by lunchtime tomorrow I want you to write me a letter explaining to me that you understand.” Mom shook her head. “And I honestly (spank) thought (spank) we were past this (spank). Well, I want you to think of this every time you even think about stealing again.”

Mom adjusted herself to get the hairbrush from her back pocket, and with no warning she was spanking me the way I imagine Aunt Lisa would spank me if she ever gets the chance: furiously. Maybe Allison wouldn’t be quite so dramatic about it, but she was spanking fast from the very start. It wasn’t as hard as I know she can spank, not even very close, but it was so fast it was like bee stings, not from one or ten but from a swarm, all over my butt, fast, sharp, stinging slaps. She produced instant tears in me, but then I was already on the verge of them. I gripped the legs of my chair and looked underneath at my own swinging feet and Mom!s upside-down calves. Between spanks I thought on how this wasn’t a strange sight anymore. The part of me that was trying to not make a spectacle of myself was being spanked right out of me because I just couldn’t keep my feet down.

When I was promising never to do it again, Mom stopped. I think maybe a minute had passed. Maybe not even. Mom slowed down but didn’t stop, and her spanks got a little harder. Between the staccato smack of that brush and my own ouches and oofs, I could hardly make out her lecture.

“Do you understand I can’t protect you anymore? Whatever the consequences are, I can’t protect you. I can’t swoop in and say, ‘I’m her mother, I’ll take care of it.’”

She unleashed another flurry of spanks that had me struggling to hold still and, like a toddler, making generic promises to be good. I couldn’t have counted if I tried. I could hardly tell which cheek she spanked last. It was an almost continuous barrage of spanks, a contest to see how many she could land in less than two minutes. The way I carried on was pathetic, but at least this time I didn’t swear. 

“You don’t get to live consequence-free. Landlords, employers, cops, they don’t care, and you can’t trade a spanking for the real world’s consequences.” She landed another spank. “If I was positive that they wouldn’t call the cops, I would make you take that back. That’s how serious this is.” She landed another spank. “Stand up.” 

I did, slowly. My butt was so hot I could feel the heat radiating from it as I brought my hands back to rub, but Mom stopped me. She never stopped me from rubbing before. I rubbed my eyes instead. At least I didn’t sob this time.

“We’re not done, Abigail.”

“Please! I learned! I won’t do it again, I don’t want any more spanking!” Mom seemed to set her jaw, suppressing her motherly instinct to hug me and make it all better.

“I know you’re upset,” she told me, “but you need to lower your voice right now.” Easy for her to say. She put her hand under my chin and lifted my face gently so we were looking each other in the eye. “You endangered yourself. Again. Do you understand? You could have jeopardized all the hard work you do. Your scholarship, your future. I thought the hairbrush got through to you last time. I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry, but  I’ve decided we need to need to try something else.”

It was surreal hearing my mother talk that way. I don’t think she was channeling Aunt Lisa, either. I think she actually felt that way. Her logic wasn’t terrible: I led her down this path, and if what she had done hadn’t worked, she’d up the consequences. That didn’t stop me from near panicking when she picked up my shorts and started drawing the belt out.

“Mommy, please, not that. Please!” The belt scared me. The hairbrush hadn’t, but the belt legit scared me. I think it scared her, too.

“You’re going to get two,” she said as she dropped my shorts. “And I hope they’re the only two I ever have to give you.”

I was crying again, trembling a little, I think. She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me around toward the bed.

“You’re going to bend over and hold very still.” She guided me into position. I laid my chest down on the bed so I was bent all the way over. Just as well since my knees felt weak. I gripped the covers in my hands, and I fought the urge to turn around. I wanted to see it coming and was afraid to see it coming.

“Hold very still.” I squinched my eyes shut.

THWACK!

“Eeeugh!”

THWACK!

“Ahheee!”

I opened my eyes and held my breath until I could swallow the sob quietly. I stayed in position. Mom sat down heavily on the bed next to me. “C’mere, baby,” she said. I crawled on to the bed and put my head in her lap. She pulled me closer and put her arms around my shoulders. I cried it out on her lap.

She was spot on about me not being a kid anymore. I wanted to be an adult without the consequences. Guess you don’t get to do that. I felt stupid. I was tired of feeling stupid. And guilty. Maybe for some people a spanking makes all the guilt go away, but while Mom may have forgiven me, I hadn’t yet forgiven me. Stupid. 

“I love you, Abby,” Mom said. I realized she was crying too. “I hate doing this. I hate it.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” I whimpered.

“No more serious trouble this summer. Please.”

“I promise. I mean it.”

“C’mon, up you get.” She helped me sit up, and we hugged. She kissed me as I buried my head in her chest. “Want your jammies on?”

”Mhmm.”

”Do you want help?”

I don’t know where it came from. I just meant my pajamas, not everything I wear to bed. But instead of saying so, or asking why Mom thought I meant that or even getting angry with her for thinking that, I said yes. Or didn’t, actually. I just nodded with my face still pressed against her.

“Okay.” I lay back on my bed when Mom got up and didn’t look at her. I guess if the goal of a spanking is to help clarify things, I was at least past thinking shoplifting isn’t a big deal. And I hadn’t given much thought to what this must be like for Mom. It made me feel inconsiderate, which made me feel ashamed.

Mom got me into my nighttime undies, which did a great job holding in the heat of the spanking, and I was ready for bed even though it wasn’t even dinner time yet. Guess that would make it safe to doze off. It also meant I’d need to pull it down every time I went to the bathroom for the evening, so it’d probably be ruined and need to be changed before I went to sleep. That would’ve bothered me, except Mom was paying for them, so I could afford for one to go unused.

It didn’t even occur to me that this violated the spirit of our agreement as being grounded to your room, even just for the night, is still grounding. But I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Mom put my shorts and undies in my hamper.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I really am sorry.”

“I know. I’ll bring you a glass of water and dinner later.”

“Can we talk later?”

“Of course, we can. Do you want me to send Taylor home?” That question was a total shock. I figured she’d gone home shortly after I got sent to timeout. I was more embarrassed getting shewed out and sent to my room in front of her, and now it seemed less embarrassing somehow. I mean, she knew anyway.

“Actually, could you her send in?” If I was gonna be in my room, I might as well have company for a bit. And I could use some sympathy. I picked up Lemon and rolled over onto my stomach. There was a gentle tap at the door.

“Come in.” Taylor came in, and I looked in her direction but not at her.

“Your mom wanted me to give you this.” She had a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

“Ehh,” I winced as I sat up. “Thank you.” I took the washcloth from her and wiped my face, then took a drink of water. She sat down on my bed, and I resented her for just a moment, that she could just drop onto her butt and not feel a thing.

“Are you okay?” I nodded. She reached under herself and moved my belt. She looked at it for a long second. “Can I do anything?”

“Please don’t make fun of me or tell anyone.”

“O, Abby, never.”

“And don’t think I’m dumb for stealing.

“I don’t. C’mere.” We leaned toward each other and hugged. “We can still have fun tonight,” she said.

“I have to stay in my room.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“You don’t have to. I understand if you don’t want to.”

“So you got in trouble. You learned your lesson, and it’s over. You’re still my best friend ... Abby?”

I had forgotten. I was sitting on my bed in a pair of pajama shorts that were snug when I wasn’t wearing one of the diapers Mom got me, which was sticking up over the waistband by several inches and showing out where the legs stopped. Taylor hadn’t said a word about it, but she had to have noticed. That was just too much. I could handle being Taylor!s friend who got spanked. I could handle being Taylor’s friends who wore diapers. Both? I slowly pulled my blanket over my lap. 

“Actually, I’d like to be alone.”

She pivoted on the bed, about to stand up, then pivoted back toward me. “No.”

“Taylor, just, please?”

“I’m staying, so deal.”

I sighed and sat up more, ignoring the ache that was already fading and leveled my eyes with hers. “I want you to go home. I’ll call you later.”

Taylor seemed to hesitate for a moment, then set her jaw like Mom did, and before I could stop her she’d grabbed my blanket and yanked it down.

“Bitch!”

“If you’re Mom hears you say that, she’s gonna come right back in here and put you right back over her knee. I don’t care what you’re wearing, and I don’t care that you got in trouble, and I don’t care how you got in trouble or that you got spanked for it, so just pick something on Netflix and scoot over so I can lay down, too, understand?”

My lip quivered and I got all teary again. I scooted over and laid back against my pillows. Taylor reached over and handed me my iPad off my nightstand, then settled in next to me. I opened Netflix and turned on the episode of Friends I’d started that morning. My lip wouldn’t stop quivering and my tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

“I love you no matter what, because you’re smart and kind and my best friend,” Taylor said softly as she put her head on my shoulder and her arm around me as we started to watch the show. “Please don’t cry anymore, Abby. Everything is alright.”

(Sniff!) “Okay.” I leaned back against her while the friends did something stupid but endearing.

 

[WBDaddy]

Well that escalated quickly.  Hairbrush, belt, diapered, jammied, sent to bed without supper, AND her besty gets to see her pampered butt?  If that doesn't adjust her 'tude, I don't know what will...

Other than Mom finally getting fed up with the immaturity and insisting she dress the same age she's acting...

[Alex Bridges]

36 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

Well that escalated quickly.  Hairbrush, belt, diapered, jammied, sent to bed without supper, AND her besty gets to see her pampered butt?  If that doesn't adjust her 'tude, I don't know what will...

Other than Mom finally getting fed up with the immaturity and insisting she dress the same age she's acting...

I didn’t mean to imply her outfit was a punishment. Puzzling out her Mom’s thinking , and hers, will be for future chapters.

And Taylor has seen her in pull-ups before, and Abby was okay with that. But the ABDL diapers her mom bought, I guess that’s a different story.

[Guilend]

I kind of figured she would need diapers. Since her mom did say she couldn't leave her room till lunch time the next day.

 

I enjoyed it.

[Alex Bridges]

8 minutes ago, Guilend said:

I kind of figured she would need diapers. Since her mom did say she couldn't leave her room till lunch time the next day.

 

I enjoyed it.

She can leave for that! Her mom is not one of those psycho diaper punishment abusers!

[WBDaddy]

1 hour ago, Alex Bridges said:

She can leave for that! Her mom is not one of those psycho diaper punishment abusers!

How disappointing.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Guilend]

6 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

She can leave for that! Her mom is not one of those psycho diaper punishment abusers!

Yes, but does the daughter know that?

[Angela Bauer]

Thank you so much for the delightful Chapter 16, Alex.

Of course Susan is correct, now that Abby is almost 19, or just had a birthday, the consequences in court for shoplifting are far more dire than they would have been while she was 12 or 13. To me it seemed logical that to ensure Abby learned her lesson adding two belt strokes to a serious bare bottom OTK hairbrush spanking is not excessive.

It was interesting to share the thinking of Susan and Abby, as well as Taylor, who seems a very good friend who might save Abby from foolish mistakes.

Naturally I will keep an eye on this forum for any subsequent stories about Susan, Abby and the adults they know, including Lucy and Alison.

[randominterestedperson]

This is the best diaper related story I have read in a long time. Very grounded and powerful and interesting. Keep it up.

[Alex Bridges]

5 hours ago, randominterestedperson said:

This is the best diaper related story I have read in a long time. Very grounded and powerful and interesting. Keep it up.

Thank you for saying so. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

[WBDaddy]

 

 

11 hours ago, randominterestedperson said:

This is the best diaper related story I have read in a long time. Very grounded and powerful and interesting. Keep it up.

6 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

Thank you for saying so. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

I think, as a writer, the most compelling part here is that no time is spent on the day-to-day in between these intense moments.  The passage of time here could have been a week or two months or whatever - all that matters is that (thing) happened on this particular day, and bad (depending on your perspective) things happened as a result.

[Alex Bridges]

A little change in perspective...

Chapter 17 (Susan)

 

 

“Why are you not dressed,” I asked Abby as I passed by her room. I’d told her twice already. Why I had to tell her at all, I don’t understand. It was her birthday party! Not that she’d asked for one, but I wanted it. It was the day I gave birth to my firstborn. I mean, I did all the hard work so I should get a party, too. Just kidding, of course, but we always had a party around her birthday to sort of kick off the summer right, even if Memorial Day was a few weeks behind us. Not a big party – just friends and my sister and Allison.

Abby pushed past me and into her room. I had no idea where that attitude came from. When she was a little girl, Abby hated celebrating her birthday with a lot of people. She didn’t like being the center of attention. That lasted from about the age of five to the age of twelve, when she realized no one was all that focused on her. They were focused on food and beer. I followed Abby into her room.

“Abigail, what’s the matter.”

“Please, Mom, could you just …” Her voice broke. I don’t care how old you get or your kid gets, when you hear tears, it sets off a pavlovian sense of urgency. That’s partly what made this new arrangement we had so difficult.

“Abby …”

“Just get out!” Also something that provokes the same kind of response no matter how old your child gets: when they raise your voice at you. Still, I surprised myself more than her I think, reaching out and taking her right arm in my left hand and then spanking her twice on the back of her shorts, extra firm pats really, As soon as I gave her the first spank, I told myself I was trying to stop a tantrum before it got out of control. Part of me, I’m ashamed to admit, just wanted to spank her fanny for being so difficult all day and having such a bad attitude. I wonder how many problems the two of us could have avoided in her nineteen years had we been better at communicating with one another. Abby froze after the second spank.

“Abigail …” Before I could even get the next word out, she folded her arms over her tummy and let out a gasp.

“Ehm,” she whimpered and turned away from me. I put my hands on her shoulders from behind.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I had an accident.”

“Just now?”

“No. I just dribbled before I … ugh!” She brushed back past me before I could stop her and sprinted to the bathroom.

I waited on her bed until she came back in, looking a lot more tired than her nineteen years. There was a wet spot on the front of her shorts. “You have a UTI,” I told her when she came back. Don’t think you need to be a nurse to recognize that.

“I know,” she said to me. “I went to urgent care this morning.”

“I wondered where you went. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I dunno.” A classic Abby answer. “It’s private.”

“What did they give you?”

“Bactrim.”

“Did they give you any AZO?”

“No, and I couldn’t find any at the pharmacy.”

“I have some upstairs.” Sometimes I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she sees sense. As though it wouldn’t have made her life and mine easier to just tell me, Mom, I’m not feeling well, I wanna take it easy. That’s not my Abby, though. My Abby is more Everything is fine, don’t wanna tell you, I’m totally independent. I know it will serve her well in the long run, but only if she can first figure out that sometimes it is okay to ask for help. I mean, aside from being a woman myself, I have a daughter with urinary issues. There’s practically always AZO in the house leftover from the last time. I found it under my sink and went back downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to make her a drink. At least she bought some cranberry juice. I diluted some with water – too much sugar makes my baby feel sick – and knocked gently on her door.

“Come in.”

“Here,” I said as I handed her the box. She popped two pills out of the blister pack and set the box on her nightstand. I handed her the glass. “Ah ah,” I said when she started to put it down. “Just down all of it.” She dutifully did so. You can never really tell when Tylenol or Ibuprofen work, but you can always tell when AZO starts to work: your urine turns an ungodly shade of orange.

“Thank you.”

“Do you feel up to the party?”

“At least for a little bit.”

I stepped forward and hugged her lightly. “I’m sorry I got cross with you.”

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s just, I don’t like talking about this stuff.”

“I know, honey. But you should anyway. I’m your mom and a nurse.”

“I know. I just …” She turned around and stopped talking. “I don’t like talking about this stuff. Normal girls get a UTI because they had sex. I get one because my body doesn’t work right. Happy birthday to me.”

It’s still jarring hearing my daughter use the S word. That aside, it’s a pretty awful feeling when you can’t fix a problem for your kid. “You want me to cancel the party? We can just sit on the couch and watch bad movies.”

“No, that’s okay. I need to change.”

“You’re sure?” I didn’t even want the party now. I wanted to put my baby to bed, climb in after her, and magically wake up in the morning with her healthy, her body perfect, and the world a just place. The alternative was for me to go start the grill.

“We’ll shoo everyone out early,” I promised. “Taylor is coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe after an hour the two of you just disappear.”

“Maybe.”

An hour later, fifteen adults and half as many kids were in our backyard. My neighbor, Harold, commandeered the grill from me, a man thing I really don’t understand but a chore I was happy to give up so I could actually talk to people and not smell like a hot dog for the rest of the evening.

“You’re late,” I said to Lisa when she finally showed up with Allison. Allison headed straight for Abby and sat down next to her. Abby had planted herself in that chair with her Hydroflask filled with more cranberry juice and had hardly moved. I kept checking on her, and she kept promising me she was okay. People kept stopping to say happy birthday to her, and she smiled and chatted and kept checking her phone.

“I had to give Allison a spanking.” I had never really appreciated Lisa sharing her parenting stories with me.

“Why,” I asked despite myself.

“Well, that incident at the pool made me realize I’ve been a little too lax with her. She raised her voice at me when we were talking about her dissertation, so I told her to get the spoon. Just a quick reminder to not shoot the messenger.” I couldn’t feel too superior to that since I’d just swatted my daughter for raising her voice at me, probably around roughly the same time my sister had been spanking my niece.  I didn’t understand what the heck Abby and I were doing with her discipline, and if that was a mystery, what my sister and niece were up to was the equivalent of the Holy Trinity, not even meant to be logically understood. “Speaking of a Grumpy Gus, what’s wrong with Abby?”

“She’s not feeling well.”

“She’s not just saying that because she doesn’t like birthday parties, is she?”

“Definitely not, poor thing. And she’s been over the birthday party thing for years.”

“Doesn’t seem like that long.”

“Six years,” I replied. She does have a tendency to discount Abby’s age. I started walking over to her with Lisa following.

“Hi, Aunt Lisa,” Abby said as we approached.

“Happy birthday, Abby.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Taylor,” I asked.

“Running late.”

“Can I get you anything? You hungry?”

“No,” she said. “I need a refill though.”

“I’ll get it,” I offered.

“No, that’s okay.” She stood up and turned toward our backdoor. I spotted pink, a pink I recognized above her skirt. I stepped forward so fast I almost knocked poor Allison on her butt, as if it hadn’t had enough trauma for one day.

“Honey,” I said as I took hold of her shirt on both sides and pulled it down. I saw the backs of her ears turn red. “Keep walking,” I whispered. Like an engine and its caboose, we walked inside. I slid the glass door shut behind us. “No one saw.”

“Aunt Lisa saw,” she countered.

“Maybe. And if she did, she probably didn’t even know what she saw. I just recognized the pattern.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Why did you decide to, ya know?”

“I … it’s practical. I didn’t think I could make it to the bahpthoom. I couldn’t go with just panties, and that was my second liter. Goodnites don’t hold that much.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“Less, but some, yeah … I need to go change.”

“C’mon.”

“Where?”

“To change.”

“I don’t need help, Mom.”

“I know you don’t. I’m just offering. It’s your birthday, you’re sick. Let me do something nice for you.”

She sighed and smiled weakly at me. “Okay. Just this once.” It had already been more than once that summer, but far be it from me to point that out.

So, if you’re thinking you’re about to get a graphic description of me changing my daughter’s diaper, you can just forget about it, so there.

“There, that’s gotta feel better,” I said.

“I hate the way that stuff makes pee look,” she said as she looked at the used diaper I’d already rolled up. “I know it’s just the drug, but it freaks me out anyway.”

“You wanna come back outside?”

“Yeah, at least until Taylor gets here. Allison isn’t much fun tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Aunt Lisa gave her a spanking just before they came.”

“She told you that?”

“I can tell. There’s an oval on the back of each of her thighs. She should’ve worn a longer skirt.”

“Did you tell her?” How awful for her! I wonder if others noticed, though I hadn’t.

“I figured that would just embarrass her.”

“Do you think anyone else noticed?”

“Probably not. I mean, if no one noticed my butt.” She stood up and flipped her skirt back down, turning sideways to her mirror. “That’s obviously not my normal butt.” She pulled her shirt down and you couldn’t tell anymore.

“If you start wearing those during the day more often we’ll need to take you clothes shopping.”

“Don’t even say that.”

“Or we could just take you clothes shopping.” I like doing nice things for my daughter just because, and being a good mother and friend, I wanted to help her spend the gift card I got her and any others she got.

“I like that more,” she smiled. “Thanks, Mom, for the help.”

“Ya know, Abby, you surprise me sometimes by how mature you can be about things.” A few hours ago she was practically shouting me out of her room, and now she didn’t seem to care that I’d helped her change. Even my sister possibly seeing her diaper, and I know Abby doesn’t get on well with her aunt, didn’t seem to faze her that much.

“Um, thanks?”

“I just mean, I wish you could be this mature about things all the time. I know you can be.” I sighed. “But it’s a party, and I won’t start with that. Sorry.” Her phone dinged and she looked at it.

“Taylor’s here.”

“I’ll see you outside after I wash my hands.”

Abby and Taylor were sitting with Allison, who had Emma on her lap, and even Ryan, my too-cool-for-school boy, was sitting with them when I got back outside. Harry still seemed content at the grill, and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten yet, so I started to make myself a plate.

“Everything alright,” Lisa asked as she approached me from behind.

“Yeah. Fine. You get something to eat.” She started making a plate of her own.

“I mean, is everything alright,” she said to me, trying to put more meaning into it. “You were in there a while.”

“Mother-daughter stuff.”

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmmm.’”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” She never makes a peep but she means something by it. She’s meant something by ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ was, since I was a day old and she was two. I gave her a dirty look just for trying that line with me. Her face softened. “I’m asking if she’s alright, really.”

“Sorry,” I said as I shook my head. Lisa didn’t know about Abby’s issues, not the extent of them - heck, I’d only learned some of it after she’d gotten home - and I wasn’t going to tell her. I figured Allison might know a bit more or that Lisa might suspect Abby still had nighttime problems, but that was all she was gonna know if I had my way. “She’s just not feeling well … I hate it that I can’t make it better.”

Truth is, Abby handles it better than me. She always has.

“I know how you feel,” my sister said as she gave my back a rub. “We’ve all been there.”

Except we all haven’t. There are moms out there with kids who have way worse problems than my Abigail. I haven’t been there. I know about their ‘there’ in theory, just like Lisa knows what it’s like for me to not be able to fix Abby’s problem in theory, just like I know what it's like to be Abby in theory. 

I hate that she gets UTIs three times a year. I hate that her childhood, and now her young adulthood, was defined so much by her problem. I hate that I listened to those lazy doctors who told me she’d grow out of it. I hate that I didn’t listen to her more. I hate that I can’t make it all better.

But I am so, so, so incredibly proud that she handles it the way she does, so confidently. I know she has her moments with it. Who wouldn’t? I’m proud of her. I’m proud of her for lots of things, even if she can make some pretty stupid choices sometimes. I hope she knows that, that her mother is proud of her.

The five of them were heading inside, probably to find a move they could all watch together. I really should have just scheduled a movie night for us all. Some other night. I decided to do that and to tell her that was her real birthday party, just us and Taylor and pizza and movies. 

[Alex Bridges]

1 hour ago, WBDaddy said:

 

 

I think, as a writer, the most compelling part here is that no time is spent on the day-to-day in between these intense moments.  The passage of time here could have been a week or two months or whatever - all that matters is that (thing) happened on this particular day, and bad (depending on your perspective) things happened as a result.

Yes. I wanted to make this story a lot more episodic. It still has an arc and some themes being built, but it’s a lot more Law and Order than The West Wing. Partly because the story is meant more to be pleasure reading (?) than, say, Done Adulting, which is more meant to be a great story.

[Sarah Penguin]

[WBDaddy]

34 minutes ago, Alex Bridges said:

Yes. I wanted to make this story a lot more episodic. It still has an arc and some themes being built, but it’s a lot more Law and Order than The West Wing. Partly because the story is meant more to be pleasure reading (?) than, say, Done Adulting, which is more mean to be a great story.

I feel that.  My greatest struggle as a writer is knowing when it's time to just push the fast-forward button instead of trying to manufacture significance where there isn't any.

[thedman]

Wow. That was an awesome chapter

[Angela Bauer]

I love the way you write separate chapters from Abby's and from Susan's viewpoints.

Chapter 17 is especially good. Susan is a caring mom.

It will be fascinating to learn more about those women, as well as more about Lisa and her daughter.