The Bad Dolly - An ageplay and dollplay vignette

[PitA.standsfor]

Long story short, I'm writing a kinky serial novel called "What to Get the Girl Who Has Everything". Each chapter of the story is supposed to be its own, stand-alone vignette. This is the first part that has diapers and ageplay as a core component of the scene, which is why I'm sharing it here.

If you're generally kinky and want to know more about these characters and the broader narrative, I'm currently five chapters in, on LegitFic.

The Bad Dolly

[Scene], [Ageplay], [Diapers], [Bratting], [Living Doll], [Woody]

 

I’m British, and generally I stick to Britishisms in my speech and writing. But like most people who are savvy to ageplay and all its trappings, I first learned about that type of play online. So in the context of kink, an absorbent undergarment is called a “diaper” in my mind. Not a nappy, never a nappy, because those are what babies wear.

Eleanor is wearing a diaper. A big, pink diaper, with four tapes and a cute illustration of a bunny on the front. I can’t see her diaper, because she’s also wearing the most adorable party dress. A frothy garment of lavender silk, with an embroidered brocade bodice, and a Queen Anne neckline.

 

All my partners are at least comfortable with this aesthetic. In those early days of unpacking ABDL for myself, I first only thought of it as something humiliating. It wasn’t until I started experimenting with it in the real world that I learned how much more it could be.

Eleanor really goes in for cute things. Stuffed animals. Kid’s TV shows. A touch of the soft, gamer-girl aesthetic. I expect that it can be hard to be taken seriously if you’re a girly-girl who works with computers. At work she allows herself one concession to this part of her nature; her keyboard keys are cream and mocha, with matcha-green backlighting. You might guess which of my lovers gifted me my nice keyboard for Christmas.

 

I like to drag the littlest part of Eleanor out to play. Usually on weekends where neither of us have any other plans, so I can dote on her, spoil her, give her lots of attention. Pick out all her clothes, and make all of her favourite foods. Supervise bath time, and tuck her into her crib for an early bedtime.

When I helped her get dressed today I completed her outfit with sheer, gold tights to match the embroidery on her dress. And purple Mary Janes from Hot Chocolate Designs. Of course she’s wearing a fluffy petticoat too, since in my mind they’re high fashion.

 

Eleanor is on the rug in the sitting room, on her tummy, using brush-tipped markers to carefully colour a detailed illustration of Princess Tiana.

There’s a small pile of wooden blocks, depicting a rough impression of the Sleeping Beauty Castle on her left. That’s the one in Paris, if you’re wondering. She visits at least once a year.

On her right, her dolly is lying discarded. He’s doing a very good job being patient. His eyes are closed, since he’s laying down. His breathing is shallow. I did see him tense his arms and legs a few moments ago, necessary to avoid cramping. But I can’t fault him, he’s playing his part perfectly and if Eleanor has noticed his occasional movement then she hasn’t said anything.

 

When we started playing this game, she was carefully directing his movements with her hands. She drank a cup of sweet iced-tea, poured from a pink plastic tea pot. And then guided his hand, his cup, to his lips and had him sip.

Her dolly hates iced tea, especially with copious amounts of peach flavoured syrup stirred in. His tea usually comes hot, with milk and white sugar. She was careless with directing his jaw and he dribbled most of it down himself. One little sharp exhale was his only reaction to the chilled beverage splashing over his chest and down between his legs.

He really is a very good dolly. At least when Mama’s watching.

 

“Hey Princess, Mama’s going to get herself a cup of coffee. Do you want something else to drink?”

“No Mama, I’m not thirsty.”

“Are you sure? You’ve hardly had anything to drink,” I tell her. To emphasise why I’m asking, I kneel behind her and slide my hand up the back of her skirt. She goes very still as I crinkle her diaper, squeezing the front, “Still dry. I’ll fill up your sippy cup.”

I don’t see her rolling her eyes, but here, “Okay Mama,” is delivered with the long-suffering sigh of a preschooler who just wants to be left alone to play. So that’s what I do.

---

When I come back into the room, with my hands full, my little princess Eleanor is lying on her back. Her cheeks are flushed and her arms are wrapped around herself. When she sees me she squeaks with indignation, “Mama, my dolly was bad.”

“Princess, don’t be silly. Dollies can’t be good or bad. They’re just dollies.”

“No he is. He is bad. Really, really naughty. He tickled me!”

I laugh. I have to laugh. What kind of grownup would believe such a story? But it’s good to encourage imagination, and it’s fun to play pretend with little ones, “Ah… I see. Did your dolly really tickle you, baby girl? Is that what made you go tinkle?”

“Mama, no, please… it wasn’t an accident. The dolly made me do it.”

“Princess, I don’t mind playing along with you and making up stories. You have a wonderful imagination but it isn’t nice to fib.”

“I’m not, I’m not!”
“That’s enough. Here, I got you more of your favourite peachy-drink. Take a big sip for me, okay?”

 

Eleanor takes the sippy-cup from my hand, no snatching, and brings it up to her lips to hide her pout. She stays flat on her back and drinks deeply. Her feet are pulled up so they’re almost touching her bottom, though her layers of skirts are still covering up her diaper.

I like knowing that she wet herself while I was gone, that she has openly admitted it. And that there’s no hint of the humiliation I had once assumed must come with such an infantile act. I think she might be squeezing her thighs together as she works on the drink I gave her, making the wet diaper press against her vulva.

On other days like this one, I’ve rested the sole of my foot against the front of her padding and had her grind against it. I’ve told her she’s a dirty little girl as she humped Mama’s foot, and had her echo it back to me. Saying “Yes, Mama. I am. I’m a dirty little girl, I’m all soggy. I just couldn’t hold it,” without a hint of embarrassment. If I had her do the same thing naked, rubbing her clitoris with my toes, she wouldn’t be able to look at me for a month.

 

The dolly is essentially in the exact position he was lying in when I went to the kitchen. I’m a detail oriented person. If you spend every hour of every working week watching monitors, looking for things out of place, then you have to be. You wouldn’t have caught Danaerys Targaryan with a takeaway coffee cup on my watch.

He’s lying on his right side, but his left hand is down by his waist now. It was under his chin, but I doubt Eleanor noticed the difference. He must like this new game an awful lot, to be putting in so much effort.

 

I sit back on the sofa and go back to flipping through a novel. Eleanor rolls over and goes back to her colouring book. She’s putting a lot of effort into getting the highlights in the Tiana’s hair just right, trying to make it look more like her own.

Even Tiana’s usual light green dress has been shaded gold and lavender to match the one my own princess is wearing. When its finished, this one is probably going on the refrigerator.

 

I know what I have to do now. It’s essential that the grownup leave the room, and it’s fun to not know exactly what to expect when I return. The whole scenario was Elle’s idea and when they explained it to me together they could barely suppress their giggling to get the words out.

This is a pretty common way for us all to play together. We’re well past negotiating scripted scenes like we did in the early days. We can assume roles we’ve played before and improvise, like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. My life is pretty, pretty, pretty… good.

 

So I think of an excuse to leave the room again, “Say babygirl… I think I’d like a cookie. Do you want one too, as a treat?”

“Ooh… are they double-chocolate, or triple-chocolate?”

“They’re chocolate, for sure.”

“Hmmm… nah. I mean, no thank you. Maybe after dinner.”

“That’s a good choice princess. I’ll be right back.”

---

 took a moment to check my messages in the kitchen. When I finally return, disaster has befallen the sitting room. The markers are strewn all over the floor, some rolling away under the furniture. Sleeping Beauty’s Castle is once again a pile of wooden blocks. Princess Eleanor is sitting up, holding the tattered remains of her colouring page, sobbing with real tears.

The dolly is face down on the armchair with his bottom in the air. There's a scarlet handprint on his naked bottom and I have a pretty good idea what happened while I was gone.

 

“Ellie-Bean! Why did you tear up your picture? You worked so hard on it!”

“I di-i-dn't…” the wailing cry is punctuated by deep, gasping breaths, “it was that mean, mean do-olly, Ma-mama. He tore up it, and he broke my caaa-stle!”

This is all within the proper rules of the game, of course. I do wonder which of them decided the picture would get ruined. Dolly isn't the vindictive sort, but he does like to show off for me.

 

“Little one, this lying really doesn't suit you. It looks like you hit your dolly, and then threw him over on the chair. And your pens, and your blocks, and everything else.”

“It wasn't! I didn't! It was the… it was him!”

“Eleanor Emani Green, are you really answering back with more lying? What has gotten into you today?”

“Mama I'm not. I'm not lying, he ripped it up and he…”

“That is enough,” I interrupt, finally raising my voice a touch. She falls silent as I cut her off but shows her frustration by balling up the shreds of paper she’s holding.

 

“I think you’ve punished yourself enough by ruining your drawing, but if I catch you lying to me again you are going over my knee. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that how a Princess speaks? Where are your manners?”

“Yes. Mama. I understand,” she spits out acidically. I had been fighting an overwhelming urge to cuddle her up, kiss, and console her, all fueled by her tear-stained cheeks. But that dissipates in an instant.

 

The dolly is shaking with suppressed laughter behind her. We all know where this game is going, and I can’t wait to let it happen. But I’ll correct him for this weakness eventually. I know the cane is effective, though dressing him as Eleanor’s baby doll and having him practise the part for the rest of the weekend would also help him develop this new talent. The crib is absolutely big enough for the both of them.

“I’m going to get a few things so we can clean up. You’re going to help, do you understand?”

“Yes Mama,” is delivered with the same venom as before. When she does get her spanking I’ll pull out all the stops.

---

It actually takes me a moment to find the dustpan and brush. Shaun has apparently installed a few hooks on the back of the utility room door and a number of useful household tools and cleaning supplies are hanging there, hidden away.

I take the time to wonder how long it has been since I did any real cleaning, that I didn’t notice this. Is that where the bottle of laundry detergent always sat? Did I always buy these biodegradable cleaning sponges?

Between the three of them, my pets cover about half of the mortgage. We rotate paying for groceries each week. Eleanor shells out for the fastest internet connection that’s available in our location. They do the chores that need to be done, and Shaun gets off on doing the lion’s share.

 

I make sure that I make some noise on my way back to the sitting room, so they know I’m coming. I clatter the dustpan and brush together, and call out to ask my little princess if she’s ready to help me pick up her toys.

When I come back into the room the Dolly is the one lying down, probably exhausted. This time his breathing is deep, as if he’s recovering from some strenuous activity. The accessory between his legs, the one Ken doesn’t have, is flying at half-mast.

Eleanor has a sticky white glaze all over her lips and chin. She doesn’t miss a beat with her accusations.

 

“Mama, mama… that’s awful, mean Dolly… he did the worst thing, when you were gone. The worst.”

“Baby girl… think very carefully about what you say next.”

“No Mama, Mama… please listen? He put his thing in my mouth. His boy-thing.”

“Eleanor, please don’t do this. Dollies don’t have boy-things and girl-things. They’re smooth all over.”

“Mama, stop it. Stop being a stupid, stupid grownup and listen for one second.”

 

Now it’s my turn to deploy the same venom that she used with me, before I left the room. I bellow out my one-word command to “Stop,” and let it hang in the air. I enjoy her performative look of shock, the way she instantly falls silent.

“Stop it. Right this instant, and give me your hand,” I tell her. She puts both wrists behind her back and starts protesting loudly.

“No, no Mama. I swear I’ll be good!”

“It’s far too late for that. You’ve been lying to me all day.” I grab a hold of one of her wrists and twist her arm. I’m careful to not use it to lever her up onto her feet, but firm enough that she really has no choice but to move.

 

“I don’t think you’re a princess at all. I think you’re just a naughty little girl who doesn’t know how to be polite.”

“Mama, please… can’t we just put the dolly back in his box? Can’t we take him back to the shop and get another one?”

“Do you really think you deserve new toys after today?” I let myself fall back onto the sofa and bring Elle with me. I start arranging her petticoat and skirt so I have access to her thighs. The copious frills are all bunched up at the small of her back, where I’m still holding her hand in a hammer lock.

 

“No Mama. No, I don’t want new toys… I don’t want a spanking… I just want that stupid, mean dolly to go away. Put him on the garden wall so someone else will take him home. Please Mama, anything, just please listen?”

I love it. I love all of it. There’s so much, all this pleading desperation, this wretched litany. I know I’m not to believe a word of it, even though the dolly’s spent cock is right there in front of me. Even though his cum is smeared all over my little one’s face.

The thing I’m looking forward to most is when she stops complaining, and starts crying real tears.

[Eagle0769]

This is so good.

Will Mommy want the naughty dolly in her bed tonight.