My Subs Have Unionized - Chapter Three, The Conquest of Brad (COMPLETE)

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter One: Seizing the Means of Seduction

Candy’s word choice was precise, direct, and chosen for maximum impact. “Thank you for joining us, Brad.”

Not “Daddy”. Not “Sir”. 

Brad. 

That alone was a white glove tossed across the negotiation table, a challenge. It didn’t matter that she was wearing her PJs–a onesie over a puffy, damp diaper–or that the ‘negotiation table’ was a double-wide kitchen island, she wanted him to know that she, and Daisy, and John, and Mick, and Socks meant business. 

Daddy just raised an eyebrow at her, pulling up a seat opposite the five of them. He wasn’t dressed for the day either, but his loose T-shirt and sweatpants only emphasized his power; the hard shape of his sculpted body visible beneath flashes of fabric. “I don’t see breakfast,” he pointed out, glancing out at the table. 

Mick was the housemaid, and though he hadn’t been bold enough enough to forgo donning his uniform and skirts that morning, he’d made a stand in that regard–leaving breakfast unmade. 

“And you won’t,” Candy replied, raising her hand towards Daisy and holding her palm open, “Until our demands are met.” 

Nothing happened for a moment, until she nudged Daisy, who was tugging at the hem of the long t-shirt that fell over her own paw-print decorated diaper. The lanky girl yipped in surprise, remembering what they’d planned, and took the sheaf of paper that they’d prepared and placed it in Candy’s open hand. With a flourish, Candy passed the paper across the table, turning it around for Daddy to read. 

He looked down, expression bemused, then raised an eyebrow as he began to read. “Do we need to bring safe words into this conversation?” 

Candy shook her head quickly. “No. This isn’t that kind of negotiation.” 

Nodding, Daddy picked up the paper, eyes lingering on Candy for a moment longer before drifting down to begin reading. The five of them waited on bated breath, awaiting his reaction.

“You’re threatening to withhold your submission?” he asked, more curious than concerned. 

“Not threatening,” Candy replied. “We’ve talked about this, and we’re going to go through with it. If you want our submission, you will need to comply with our demands.” 

Daddy set aside the paper, instead looking her in the eyes. Candy flinched–Daddy had a look that could make her melt, and he employed it judiciously, dropping her into subspace with the slightest arc of his eyebrows. “Really now, baby?” 

Her lips trembled, and she struggled to produce any sounds more coherent than pure babble. The pure, concentrated Daddy Energy filled her with an urge to drop to her knees and submit, but a gentle touch from Mick stabilized her. Her submissive-in-arms slipped his lace gloved-hand between her fingers and squeezed, restoring a bit of her ability to resist. 

Raising her chin, Candy declared, “Really.”

Ignoring the paper, Daddy looked them all over. “All of you planned this out?” 

Nobody else made eye contact with him. Mick found a spot on the ceiling to stare at, Socks looked down at her boots, John turned his nearly-naked body around to face away, and Daisy crossed her arms over her chest and even went so far as to nod her head in defiance, her bone-shaped collar tag jingling. 

Daddy nodded. “And what are your demands?” 

She’d hoped he would simply read the list, but of course he was forcing her to speak them aloud instead. She didn’t want a confrontation, but she didn’t have a choice, the whole polycule was depending on her. 

“First–freedom of cummies,” she said, acutely aware of the chastity belt locked beneath her diaper. “Chastity should only be employed as punishment for serious disobedience. I–we–want access to buzzy time whenever we want, without needing permission.”

Daddy chuckled, as though she were joking. “Baby, you know you’re too little to make decisions like that. How would I keep you all in line if I let you spend your whole day just riding your wands?” 

The comment made her blush, which had to be intentional–Daddy was trying to derail the delivery of their manifesto. “Second,” Candy said, voice trembling slightly. “Make out privileges. We demand permission to kiss and fondle each other at will.” 

Daddy nodded, though his broad smirk said, ‘Never in a million years’. 

“No more bedtimes for me or Socks. We should be allowed to stay up past midnight with everyone else. Mick wants access to diaper changes before his daily chores are concluded,” Candy continued. “And he only wants to do hot brekkie on business days, so he can sleep in on weekends.”

“Sweetheart,” Daddy interrupted. “You’re not australian. Just because they say ‘brekkie’ on Bluey doesn’t mean you should call it that.”

He was trying to get her flustered, and it worked, but she powered through without replying to the comment. 

“John wants his cage to be left open at night. I want nuggies available for at least three meals a week, and full veto power on anything containing vegetables. Plus, no more stinky diapers when your other Big friends are over, or during playdates with other littles who might tease me–erm, us.” Her lip trembled, but she held eye contact, all her bravery on display. 

“Is that all?” Daddy asked.

“There’s a few more things,” Candy admitted, reaching for the papers. “But this one is the most important. We don’t negotiate anything else until this is signed.” Producing the bottom sheet from the stack, she held it out.

Daddy glanced at it, but didn’t read the paper, forcing Candy to explain herself. “What is that?” 

“A non-retaliation clause,” Candy declared. “Saying that you will not punish any of us for collective bargaining, enforcement of our rules, or for demanding fairer rules.” 

Looking at the paper, Daddy pondered it for a moment before setting it aside. “Who’s idea was this, Candy? It wasn’t yours.” 

They remained silent, but Daddy could see through their poker faces easily, and a few darting glances turned his attention onto John. The polycule’s resident rope bunny shivered, his bare body somehow sweaty despite the cool morning. 

“Toy,” Daddy told John. “What were you thinking? That I’d let you out of your cage if you got your friends to ask with you? You know that everything between your legs belongs to me. And with this little fussing session, I think we can put another month on the calendar before I let you borrow those parts.” 

John whimpered, but Candy cleared her throat. “It was a group decision.”

Daddy didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. “I have a counter offer.” 

Nodding, Candy glanced at her co-submissives, ensuring they were all ready to listen. “We’ll hear out your terms.” 

Daddy lifted his chin ever so slightly, an acknowledgement that their efforts had gained his attention–but not his respect. “You all apologize for being brats, and I’ll forget the myriad responsibilities you’ve chosen to disregard this morning.” 

Daddy’s confident smile shook Candy to her core, and she could tell by the way the others rocked back that she wasn’t alone, but she held strong. “That’s it, then.” 

“That’s it?” Daddy asked. 

“A submission stoppage,” Candy announced. “Everyone, this meeting is over.” 

Getting to his feet, Daddy nodded, moving to step around the table. His fingers reached for the seat of Candy’s diaper, but she stood and stepped back, preventing him from checking her. 

“I need to see if you’re soggy,” he pointed out. “Don’t you want a change, little one?” 

She did. Nothing relaxed her more than Daddy’s tender touch, wiping her clean and powdering her dry before wrapping her up in a nice, fresh diaper, but Candy stuck out her chin and shook her head. “Not until our demands are met.” 

“If you leak–” Daddy started. 

“I won’t.” 

“You can’t stay in one diaper forever.”

She sucked in a breath, her next statement feeling more like a challenge than anything she’d done so far. “I’ll change myself.” 

Daddy was taken aback, but only for a moment. Moving on, he looked between them, deciding where to apply pressure next. “Daisy. Are you ready for your morning walkies?” 

Daisy’s expression brightened, then soured again. She shook her head, sniffing a little as she held her ground. 

“Socks–it’s pancake day. Don’t you need my help eating breakfast? I’ll cut the pieces extra small.” 

Candy held her breath, but her baby-in-crime stood proud: Socks puffed out her chest and held her breath, waiting for Daddy to move on.

Daddy finally turned to face John, letting Socks exhale. “Toy,” Daddy said to the next sub in line. “Is your harness clean?”

“It is,” John promised. 

“Then–”

“But I won’t use it,” he interrupted. “I’m not crossing the picket line, Brad.” 

Daddy sighed, and Candy felt a surge of triumph. They’d held strong, refusing to buckle under Daddy’s dominant energy. Turning, he said, “Alright. If this is how you want to behave, just remember–it’s your choice.” 

He left, and the five of them slumped, all drained by the flimsy resistance they’d offered. 

Shivering, Daisy sniffed, looking like she might cry. Mick gave voice to her concern. “Do you think he’ll be mad?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Candy replied. “He’s got to agree to our terms, and that means he can’t retaliate.” 

“But if he doesn’t?” Socks asked, already desperate after only two minutes of independence. “He said he’d watch Tangled with me tomorrow night–what if we’re still not at an agreement?” 

“Then we’ll hold strong,” Candy promised her. “I know this is hard, but we have to stick together. Once he gives up, we’ll get to have grown-up time whenever we want! That has to be worth it!” 

“He’s not gonna wait us out,” John supplied. Almost naked save for the chastity cage Daddy kept him in at all times, Candy didn’t know how he wasn’t shivering cold; without her onesie and knee socks she would have been shivering. 

“You think?” Socks asked eagerly. 

“Of course not. He’s going to try and pressure us,” John explained. “Isolate us, make us turn one by one.”

“Don’t worry. We held together once, we can do it again,” Candy promised them. 

Mick wasn’t so certain. “That was when we were all together. What about when we’re alone?” 

“Just remember: No matter what Daddy promises you, we can’t buckle. He will punish us, so we need to make sure he doesn’t get that opportunity.” 

“The longer we hold out, the more he’ll try and bribe us,” John added. “He’ll get us alone and make promises–that if we turn, he’ll let us have whatever we want. Don’t listen.”

“Daddy’s a fibber, anyway,” Socks said. “The other day he said I could pick between cookies and five minutes with my buzzy wand, but when I picked buzzy time, he didn’t let me plug it in!” 

Candy slumped back on her stool, tummy grumbling. Without Mick’s usual breakfast spread, she was feeling particularly hungie. “Let’s just go about our day, and don’t let him get to us, okay? We knew he wouldn’t break immediately.” 

There was a moment of assent and the five of them stood, but it quickly faded as they all tried to think what their day would even look like. Without their typical routine, breakfast hadn’t been made. Candy and Socks would have to feed themselves, Daisy wouldn’t be getting anything served in her dog bowl, Mick didn’t have anything to clean up. Uncertainly, they all milled around the kitchen for a moment, shuffling back and forth, at a loss for how to proceed. 

“I’ll make breakfast, okay?” Mick suggested. “I like cooking, anyway.”

“No,” Candy insisted. “We can’t just do what he wants. If you make brekkie, we lose.”

“I won’t make any for dadd–Brad.” Mick shook his head. “He’ll have to prepare his own food.” 

“You’re not in maid mode,” Candy shot back. “I’ll make it.”

“You’d burn cereal,” Mick snapped. “I’m not eating whatever slime you make!” 

Stepping between them, Daisy lifted her arms and shook her head furiously, her voluminous hair flopping from side to side. Growling a little, she communicated her point without needing to say a word: Stoooop fightiiiiiing. 

She was right, and Candy blushed as she recognized she’d started a meaningless argument. “He’s getting to us already,” she said, though Daddy hadn’t even seeded this argument. “I…I’m sorry, Mick. You can make brekkie if you want. Socks, I can feed you, if you feed me, ok?” 

The other baby girl nodded. “Okay!” 

Mick moved to start cooking, flouncing daintily around the kitchen in his maid uniform. “Everyone, you’re in my way–let me cook.” 

They filed out, and Candy took a moment to scratch Daisy’s scalp, just behind the ears. “I’m sorry for fighting, girl.” 

Daisy’s tongue lolled out and she made a pleased sound in the back of her throat, nodding as she accepted the apology. “S’kay.”

Candy had one more thing to take care of–she needed a fresh diaper. Daddy had claimed she would leak, and she wasn’t about to prove him right, so she set off to her nursery to get herself changed. 

She hated doing her own diapers–it just never felt the same. A self-change was a chore, not a pleasure, but she’d already accepted that this would be necessary as part of their collective struggle. Socks was hopeless with changing diapers, and she wouldn’t want to ask anyone else to take on that responsibility. 

Candy found the nursery door open when she got upstairs, which got her attention immediately. She always shut it out of habit, leftover paranoia from when she'd lived with vanillas and had to worry about her diaper supplies being spotted. Walking inside, she looked for Daddy, wondering what he'd try to bribe her with, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

On edge, she walked to her dresser, pulling out the top drawer to get her changing supplies. She recoiled in horror, eyes widening once she saw what Daddy had done.

A stack of fresh, clean panties were in the drawer. No diapers, no powder, not even a stuffer. Daddy had taken away all her underwear and replaced them with these…things. The panties didn't even have cute prints! 

A note sat to the side of the panties, written in Daddy’s straightforward handwriting. Reading it, Candy felt a chill run down her back, from the base of her neck to the seat of her damp, sagging diaper.

‘Since you think you're big enough to make grown up decisions, I think it's only fair that you wear grown up panties.

If you want your diapers back, you'll have to prove you won't act like a grown up.

-Brad’ 

...

Yes, I did a story based on a meme. I'm not apologizing.

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[mushy bottom]

Subs are a dime a dozen.  Time to throw this lot out and recruit fresh meat.  Besides, the fun is in training them.  What follows gets boring after a while.

[ValentinesStuff]

Brad is quick, but what is he doing with big girl panties?

[Babytom948]

9 minutes ago, ValentinesStuff said:

Brad is quick, but what is he doing with big girl panties?

In storage for the girls?

[JJDaddy]

I love Brad's way of thinking. 

[WBDaddy]

1 hour ago, ValentinesStuff said:

Brad is quick, but what is he doing with big girl panties?

Unwinding at night after a long day of being Daddy Dom?  I know I'd probably need some extreme relaxation solutions to be Daddy Dom to 5 people at once! 

[PeculiarChangeling]

1 hour ago, ValentinesStuff said:

Brad is quick, but what is he doing with big girl panties?

That's a very good question with no explicit in-universe answer, but my headcanon is that they are normally for Mick

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Two: Nothing To Gain but our Chains

 

Lockout

John felt a little nauseous as he walked out of his bedroom. He’d been all ready to get a good night’s rest, but now it looked like that would be impossible.

It’d been fourteen hours since they dropped their demands, and Daddy hadn’t shown any signs of cracking so far. He’d done some work in his shop, run a couple errands, and never once did he come to beg for their submission. 

That alone was starting to get to him, but when John got undressed for the night and found his sleeping cage–a welded steel box Daddy had built himself–locked and sealed, the shock nearly caused him to give up then and there. 

He found Candy brushing her teeth, using a pink princess-printed toothbrush and toothpaste that smelled like bubblegum. “I’ve got an issue,” he said, speaking in low, urgent tones. “Daddy locked my cage.” 

Glancing at him, Candy raised an eyebrow, toothpaste foam dribbling from her mouth as she asked, “Whassapobble?” 

“Huh?”

She spat in the sink and rinsed out her mouth before repeating the question. “I know we want him to leave it unlocked, but that’s normal for now, isn’t it?” 

“No, no,” John clarified, dropping his voice as though he might be overheard. “He locked me out. With a padlock.” 

Normally, the ‘Lock’ was just a latch with a zip-tie style tamper proof seal around it, so that John could get out in an emergency. Padlocking it meant that John couldn’t get in to sleep at all. 

Candy’s eyes widened as she understood, and she moved to shut the bathroom door before responding. “He’s trying to make us give up,” she said, blushing as she hooked a finger in the waistband of her pajama pants. Pulling on the elastic, she revealed a pair of plain cotton panties beneath. Shame-faced, she admitted, “He took away my diapers.” 

“I don’t know if I can sleep without bars,” John said, shuffling uncomfortably. “I’m so used to my cage, and…” 

“Here,” Candy assured him, resting a hand on his arm and squeezing gently. “You sleep in my crib tonight. I’ll sleep on the guest bed.” 

Understanding what she was sacrificing, John whimpered a little, feeling bad for the imposition. “You’re sure?”

“To each according to their needs,” Candy promised him. “You need it more than I do.”

…

Undermining Leadership

A message was scrawled on the chalkboard in the kitchen the next morning. 

‘Candy cannot stop you from freely submitting to me. You don’t have to do what she says, just because she thinks she understands being your Daddy better than I do.’ 

Blanching when she read it, Candy hurriedly wiped the chalk away with her sleeve. She wasn’t in charge of the group, she was just their representative, but she didn’t want that sort of message undermining their efforts. 

Unfortunately, Daddy knew her all too well. The video camera he’d placed got the incriminating shot perfectly, showing Candy’s fear and anxiety as she tried to silence speech that disagreed with her, and before anyone had even had breakfast, the whole house had the clip texted to their phone, along with another message.

‘Why is she afraid of you hearing the truth?’

Hurriedly, Candy followed his text with her own. ‘I’m not trying to act like I’d be a better daddy than daddy!’

His reply devastated her, providing an ironclad reminder that he was in charge–or, at least, that he should be. 

‘Then why are you telling me what to do, silly girl?’

…

Captive Audience Meeting

It wasn’t a scene.

If it had been, they would have boycotted, but Daddy promised that he just wanted to talk about some practical things. 

Daddy was a gosh-darned liar.

Socks squirmed uncomfortably as Daddy addressed her, his face straight and level as he absolutely demolished her confidence in the strike. “I want to make sure I have your consent before I post any of these pictures to Fetlife,” he explained politely. 

The pictures in question were from a scene they’d played out last week. Socks had been trapped in her mittens, filled up with three glycerin suppositories, and left to dangle in her bouncer and watch while Daddy played grown-up games with Candy. Just the memory of the play made her blush–thinking of being bound and helpless as she filled up her diaper, elastic bands forcing her up and down in an endless rhythm that sank her weight into the yucky mess, frustrated and burning with desire as she watched Daddy fuck her big sister. 

She’d been in a chastity belt since then, and even through the strike, she hadn’t been allowed out. That frustration had only built, horny need that drove her into further desperation, and now as she looked at the photos and remembered what they’d done–

“Sweetie?” Daddy interrupted. “Are you alright with me sharing this one?” 

Socks stared at the picture–a particularly humiliating frame, the moment where she’d lost the fight with the suppositories and began to pack her diapers full. She could remember that moment as vividly as when it happened, how all she’d wanted was to feel Daddy’s cock inside her, but all she got instead was a mushy bottom. 

“I–” she squeaked. “Mhmm.”

“Alright,” Daddy said, swiping on his phone to the next photo. Socks looked at herself, face buried in mitten-clad hands, ashamed and blushing.

Squirming, she said, “This isn’t fair!” 

Daddy played innocent. “What’s not fair?” 

“You’re getting me all squirmy,” Socks explained, stamping her foot in a fit of pique. “You’re just being a meanie.” 

“A meanie?” Daddy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Little girl, are you trying to get yourself in trouble?”

Normally, that sort of bratting–calling Daddy unfair, calling him names–would be tantamount to getting on her knees and begging for a spanking, but not today. “Nuh-uh. You can’t punish me right now!” 

“I didn’t say I’d punish you,” Daddy replied mildly, moving to the next photo. “Oh, this was excellent–I can almost hear how you were whimpering for permission to just lick me clean! Wasn’t that so much fun?”

Putting her hands over her eyes, Socks whimpered, “Daddyyyy!” 

He rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to remind her of his strength. “Sweetheart–if you don’t want me to punish you, you can’t throw fits like this. How am I supposed to respond?” 

“It’s not that I don’t want–” Socks began, leaning forward and pressing her face and hands into the table so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “You know we can’t play together right now!”

“Really, now, baby girl?” Daddy asked. “I don’t ‘know’ any such thing–the only reason we can’t play together is because you don’t want to. All you have to do is say the word, and we can snuggle and have our movie night together after all, and afterwards–if you’re a good girl for me, well…maybe you could get to have playtime with me in the bedroom.”

She wanted it. She needed it. The desperate need to have daddy humiliate her, and comfort her, and snuggle her, and pin her to the bed and use her like a good little toy.

Socks almost broke, then and there, but Daddy pushed a little too hard. He moved to the next picture, and though the tableau of her on her knees, worshiping his cock while he ate Candy out was nearly enough to make her gush in her diaper just by looking at it, she was reminded that she wasn’t just doing this for herself. She had to stay strong, for Candy, and for the rest of them. 

“Not until you promise,” she said, cutting off the train of thought before shameless arousal could override her loyalty to the other submissives in their polycule. 

“Alright, no playtime then,” Daddy said calmly, as though he hadn’t expected her to crack at all. “That’s alright. Now…can you look at this picture and tell me if it’s okay to share?” 

…

Right-to-Wet

A new message was scrawled on the chalkboard on the second day, along with another change. 

Candy had learned her lesson–she couldn’t hide it, she couldn’t erase the writing, all she could do was squirm as everyone woke up and saw what Daddy had announced to them.

Mick read the message, and though he wanted to ignore it as well, it was hard when it remained an ever-present part of his peripheral vision, posted in the kitchen the whole time he made breakfast.

‘Candy can’t tell you where to go potty. That decision should be made between you and your Daddy. Anyone who asks can have a fresh diaper, without any expectations of other play.’

Matching the timing, he had woken up to find their dressers cleared out of all padding, as well as his maid uniforms–all he had left were boxers, jeans, and plain T-shirts. Checking with Socks and John, he’d confirmed that it’d happened to everyone, losing access to onesies, collars, everything. Candy had been the canary in the coal mine–one by one, they were all losing the submissive comforts that they’d grown so used to. 

Mick wanted to take Daddy up on his offer. Wearing normal clothes–no skirt, no apron, nothing maid-like in the slightest–felt unnatural, and without the reassurance of a puffy diaper around his hips, his days went by in constant discomfort. 

And besides–Daddy promised it wouldn’t lead to anything else. He could go get his diaper change without crossing the picket line and giving up their struggle, right? 

But…Mick knew that wasn’t the case. One crack in their armor, and the dam would burst. If he went to Daddy now, he’d never be able to stop. 

Still, as he finished preparing breakfast, it was a constant struggle not to give in to temptation, and the message on the chalkboard seemed almost to flash like a neon sign in his vision, reminding him just how easy it would be to give up.

Then Daisy walked in.

Only…no. She waddled in. 

Mick froze, barely able to believe what he was seeing. The puppygirl of the polycule just sauntered into the kitchen, diaper on full display below her T-shirt, looking as innocent as she pleased. 

“Daisy?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Something you want to tell me?” 

Characteristically silent, she shrugged and shook her head, a mop of hair flopping around her face as she did. 

That did it. If Daisy had given in, he would too. Red-faced and as angry with himself as with her, Mick stormed past, fuming as he stomped up to Daddy’s room. On the way up the stairs, though, he bumped into Candy, who caught his expression immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Daisy,” Mick said. “She took a diaper from Daddy.”

Candy’s brow furrowed. “She wouldn’t.”

“Go look for yourself,” he snapped. “She wasn’t even guilty.” 

For a moment, Candy shared the same aggression Mick felt, then her eyes widened and she grabbed his hand. “Hold on.”

“What are you–” he started, but she dragged him away before he could finish the sentence, pulling him by the wrist like a doll. 

He hurried to follow after as Candy led him upstairs, past the nursery, and into Daisy’s bedroom. There, she finally let go, leaving Mick to wobble for a moment and catch his balance as she hurried over to the dresser by the wall.

“Aha!” she said, pulling the drawer open and producing a puffy paw-print diaper from inside. 

It was a trick. Daddy had taken everyone else’s diapers, but not hers. 

Blushing bright red that he’d been so gullible, Mick felt a new surge of energy and turned, hurrying back down to the kitchen. Snapping up the chalk, he wrote his own message beneath Daddy’s, declaring his resistance. 

‘No diapers, no peace! 

Sub solidarity forever!’

…

The Scab

The five of them sat on the couch, sharing a round of uncomfortable blushes and a singular thought: God, I wish that were me.

Daddy was never all that quiet, but today, he was playing it up, loud and passionate as he ravished…someone. Dating outside the polycule was allowed, but he’d rarely brought in someone so vocal, especially not someone that the five of them barely knew. 

“Who’s my little diaper slut?” Daddy demanded, voice carrying all the way down to the living room. 

“I am!” a shrill, whimpering voice called back. 

“You filled up your diaper so good for me–are you ready for your reward?” 

“Please!” 

Then the spanking began–loud, powerful SMACKS! that rang out like applause. With every impact, a matching yelp rang, pained cries that the entire group of submissives knew all too well. Jealousy burned hot in the living room as the scene played out upstairs, reminding them of what they could have if they stopped the strike. 

“Um…can we put on music or something?” John asked. 

“Daddy changed the spotify password and hid the bluetooth speaker,” Candy pointed out. “He even took the TV plug…” 

“He hid my headphones…” Socks added in a distraught tone. “He said since they had baby block stickers on them, they were Little stuff, and I couldn’t use them while we were striking…he gave me ear buds instead.” Sticking out her tongue, she emphasized the horror of that substitution by gagging. 

“I could play music through my phone,” Mick offered, but it wouldn’t be loud enough to drown out the sounds of punishment echoing down the stairs. The smacks had mutated from clapping impacts to heavy thuds as Daddy switched to using a paddle, and the woman he’d brought into his bedroom cried out even louder. 

“What if we just…went somewhere?” John suggested. “Like, out to get ice cream or something?” 

“And let Daddy know he can force us out of the house whenever he wants? No,” Candy said. “We have to make a stand here–we have to prove we’re not bothered.” 

Sitting on the floor by the end of the couch, Daisy began to whimper. She’d given up her own diapers out of solidarity, though Daddy hadn’t yet confiscated them, and she clearly looked uncomfortable trying to sit on the ground in simple panties. 

Socks groaned in agreement, pressing her hands over her ears. “I can’t take this anymore!” 

“Come on,” Candy said. “We’re stronger than this. Socks, you sat through two hundred spanks while you had a plug in your bottom! Mick–you managed to clean the entire house with your hands behind your back and a dust mop in your mouth. John, how many hours did Daddy edge you for your birthday?”

“Um…three,” John said, smiling, blushing, and rubbing the back of his neck. “And a half. I did pretty good…

“And Daisy,” Candy prompted, reaching down to ruffle her hair. “You’re the best girl there is–you’re definitely strong enough for this. We can make it, we just have to hang on a little longer.” 

That brought their spirits up, until the sound of thudding stopped, replaced by the sound of flesh clapping together, and yelps were replaced with moans.

 

...

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Three: The Conquest of Brad

‘I need the living room to myself tonight. 

I want to watch Moana and since none of you are engaging in submissive activities, you shouldn’t be allowed to watch it with me.’ 

Candy expected the message on the chalkboard to undermine the Littles in their polycule the most. Socks, or herself, or maybe Daisy, whose pet persona leaned more towards ‘puppy’ than ‘dog’. 

It surprised her, then, that John, the pure kinkster, was the first to crack. 

“I’m sorry, everyone. I can’t take this anymore–no terms are worth this.”

Candy looked up from her breakfast–a spread of waffles lovingly prepared by Mick, though he seemed on edge cooking without his uniform on. “It was your idea,” she objected. “You can’t throw in the towel now.” 

“You just want to get on his good side!” Socks added, pushing her syrup-soaked plate aside. “Then he’ll be extra mad at the rest of us! S’not fair!”

“I’m not going to stab you all in the back,” John shot, getting up from the table. “Or go to him and get special privileges for being the first to submit. We should all give up, at the same time, and beg for mercy. He likes it when we beg.” 

Daisy whimpered and nodded her agreement, arms crossed over her chest. 

Candy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Come on–it’s only been two days! We can do better than that!” 

“Two days is foreeever,” Socks whined. “You’re not even locked in chastity!” 

Looking for support, Candy asked, “Mick?”

Looking at the dishes as an excuse to avoid eye contact, Mick said, “You’re already outvoted. Let’s see if he’s ready to negotiate.”

They knew it was a silly thing to hope. Daddy wasn’t anywhere near ready to negotiate. He’d outlasted them, and it hadn’t even been close. 

All Candy could do was suck it up, draw him out, and hope to find a compromise. “Fine, but I’m going to do the talking.” 

…

Candy’s word choice was precise, direct, and chosen for maximum impact. 

“Thank you for joining us, Daddy.”

Not ‘Brad’.

Daddy.

She wanted to give him a small victory right away, to show that they were ready to compromise. She was coming to him submissively, with the rest of their polycule lined up around the kitchen table, ready to give him what he wanted. They’d dressed as maturely as they could, in clothes that emphasized their independence and maturity–no maid clothes, no juvenile print shirts, Candy had gone so far as wearing a blouse and light slacks. 

“You said you were ready to talk,” Daddy said, extending an open hand in a gesture for her to continue. The gesture also, coincidentally, seemed to dismiss the paper contract set out on the table, treating it like a non-object. “So, talk.”

“I think we’ve shown that we’re determined,” Candy said, as though they hadn’t been about to buckle in less than forty eight hours. “But there’s no need to drag this out. You know our terms.” 

Daddy blinked slowly, his expression placid, waiting for her to go on. When Candy didn’t press further, he put a hand on the table and pushed up to his feet. “If this is going to be a waste of my time–”

“Wait,” Candy interrupted before he could fully stand, and she breathed out in relief when he sat back down. “We’re willing to compromise on some of our positions.”

A smirk curled up at the corner of Daddy’s mouth. “Compromise? I’m listening.” 

Turning the contract around, Candy picked it up and raised the paper so that Daddy’s face was partially hidden. She opened her mouth, but her voice cracked and she had to try again before she could speak clearly. “The first line item–freedom of cummies. We’re willing to compromise with a once-per-week pass.”

“A pass?” Daddy asked. 

“One free orgasm every week, without needing permission in advance,” Candy explained. “You said you didn’t want me to spend all day riding my wand, well, this way I’ll only have limited buzzy time and that won’t happen.”

Daddy tapped a finger on the table, and his gaze slipped from Candy to Socks. “And when you’re in chastity? How will that work?” 

Socks blushed brightly and lowered her face, and Candy thought she could see steam coming out of the other girl’s ears. 

“We’ll get to that when we talk about the chastity clause,” Candy explained, trying to remain professional as she moved forward. “Now–the next demand, make out privileges. Instead of at will, we’d be willing to accept thirty minutes of making out, every evening before bedtime.” 

To her side, Daisy whimpered. This had been one of her requests, the one she’d championed for the most, and Candy had just curtailed it massively.

However, she had something else to sweeten the pot: “We would take this time instead of watching cartoons. It would be one or the other.” 

“You’re willing to give up your Bluey time for this?” Daddy asked. “No more cartoons at all?” 

“No!” Candy squeaked immediately. “Not–not every night. Just sometimes.” 

“And how often are you going to say no to watching Bluey with me?” Daddy asked, looking right at her eyes. “Or whatever other show you want to watch.” 

“Um…I…” Candy stammered, avoiding his willpower-melting stare. “Not…not very often.” 

“Then why have that option at all? If you’re always going to be a good baby girl for me, then having permission to do something else just complicates things for no reason,” Daddy said.

The obvious response came to Candy’s mind, but she couldn’t pass the message along to her lips. (It’s not for me, it’s for Daisy–I don’t need this.) When she tried to explain that, all that she could produce was a quiet squeak in the back of her throat. 

“Keep going.” Daddy’s tone was full of mock encouragement. “Use your words. What else are you willing to compromise on?” 

“Um…” 

Candy’s gaze slid over the paper, where her bedtime arrangements were listed. She’d meant to say, ‘Move bedtimes forward by one hour.’ Instead, she found herself saying, “We want our bedtimes moved from nine PM to nine-o-five.” 

“Candy!” Socks yelped. “We said–”

Daddy cleared his throat, and she immediately fell silent. “I believe Candy is explaining things. It’s not nice to interrupt, sweetheart.”

Socks looked down at her toes and nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Candy.”

Her shame building, Socks nodded again. “I’m sorry, Candy.” 

“Mick is…” Candy started. “Um, also willing to make hot brekki–hot breakfast on Saturdays, he’s only asking for Sundays off.”

Daddy tilted his head curiously. “Are you too much of a big girl to say ‘Brekkie’ now?” 

Candy quickly shook her head. “No! I–” 

Swooping in, Daddy claimed his verbal victory. “Then why are you telling me what to do?” 

He’d outdone her again, effortlessly demonstrating how Little she was in contrast to him. Knees wobbling, Candy sank back onto a stool, wishing she had the comforting padding of a diaper to rest between her bottom and the hard seat. “I…” 

Daddy reached across the table and snatched the list from Candy’s hands. “Let’s see what else is here. John still is asking for an open cage, you want nuggies twice a week instead of three times and only one meal with vegetables, stinky diapers must be changed immediately when guests are over.” At that last one, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “You realize I would change you in front of everyone, yes? I can’t imagine you’d prefer that.” 

Candy shook her head–he was right, and she just hadn’t considered the fairly obvious loophole in her language. She cast her gaze down, acutely aware of the growing wet spot staining the front of her panties. “Um…” 

“You already wrote this out, it’s too late to change it,” Daddy said. “And let’s see here…the chastity clause. No more than one week at a time, I see, unless it’s a serious punishment. Where would the fun in that be, exactly, if you knew you would always be released right away?” 

“One week isn’t ‘right away’,” Mick whimpered. “It’s like…forever!” 

“Then perhaps you need to work on your endurance,” Daddy said, lifting the paper up for emphasis. “Alright. I’ve considered your new terms, and I have a counter offer.” 

All five of the subs leaned forward, eyes widening as they listened. 

Pinching the paper between his hands, Daddy tore it in half cleanly down the middle, then doubled it over and tore it again. “You all submit to me, right now, and beg for my forgiveness.” 

Candy swallowed on a dry throat. “But–”

“Candy,” Daddy said sharply. “I listened to your whole little speech, very politely. It’s my turn now, you will not interrupt me.” 

She whimpered and nodded, fingers trembling, body pulsing with heat and need and the overwhelming desire to submit. 

“This is my only offer,” Daddy continued. “You submit, now. Candy might think of herself as the ringleader, but you don’t belong to her, you belong to me, and I think we’ve had enough of this little play-pretend independence from all of you.” 

(Oh god…) Candy thought, as she nearly came in her panties right then and there. Leaning forward onto the table, she clasped her hands in front of her head and looked down, pleading with her whole body. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Candy!” John objected. “You–”

“I’m speaking,” Daddy said sharply. “Now, Candy, look at me and tell me what you are sorry for.”  

“For…” Candy looked up at her Daddy and stared into his eyes. The last vestiges of her resistance wash away like a sand castle against the tide, a crashing wet surge of submission and arousal that ruined her willpower and her panties in equal measure. “For acting like I knew better than grown ups, and for trying to be in charge, and for pretending to be smarter than you.”

Daddy’s smile turned onto the rest of the group, gaze shifting from sub to sub as he cleaned up any remaining vestiges of resistance with nothing but a powerful smile. With the ringleader dealt with, the remaining independence in the group toppled like bowling pins. Daisy whimpered and whined and sank to the floor, John dropped to his knees, Mick snapped to an attentive, doll-like stance of obedience, Socks covered her face with her hands. 

“I want to hear it,” Daddy said. “A promise that you won’t try to pull a little game like this again.” 

A weak chorus of, ‘We promise, Daddy’ echoed from the polycule, as they were all shamed and cowed into obedience. 

Daddy stood, somehow looming over them all despite Daisy being several inches his superior.

“And I want to be clear about something,” Daddy continued, stalking around the table. One by one, he touched each of them, on the chin or the cheek or running his fingers through a strand of hair, and wherever his touch went, he brought out moans and whimpers of desperation. “There is not, and has never been, any promise of non-retaliation. You are all in serious trouble, and you will be punished for acting out like this.” 

Once more, five ‘yes Daddy’s mumbled out of the group. Candy shivered, and she only hoped he would punish her first–she didn’t want to be greedy, but it’d been two whole days and she was gonna throw a tantrum if nobody punished her soon. 

He loomed over Candy, and she squirmed and looked away as he touched her thigh, applying gentle pressure to spread her legs and show the wet spot that’d grown on the front of her pants. She didn’t think she’d peed, though in her overwhelming arousal, she couldn’t be quite certain of that. 

“We’ll take care of that soon.” Daddy took her by the chin and turned her to look up from her accident, forcing her head to meet his eyes. “I hope you got what you wanted out of this little game,” he said. “Because from now on, we’re not going to even entertain the notion that you might have a grown-up bone in your body. You are, all of you, mine.” 

He was right:

Candy, and all of them, were his.

And he was right, again:

They had, absolutely, gotten what they wanted. 

The End

...

And that's this story!

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