Mary and Daphne #57 (Patreon)

“Maaaaaarrrrry!” That wasn’t a whine; that was a shout. “O Maaaaaaarrrrryyyy!”

“What, Daffodil, what?” Mary asked, mayhaps a little perturbed by my shouting at four–ish while she was sposed to be working.

“Hi,” I said all shy like. “I been drinkin’.”

“I can see that,” she chuckled.

I propelled myself off the sofa with champagne bottle in hand and threw my arms around Mary’s neck for a very suggestive kiss because mwaaaahhh!

“Wanna glass,” I asked when I let her come up for air.

“How much did you have,” was her question when she took the bottle from my hand.

“Just a glass.”

“I can see that, ya little lightweight,” my Mary said as she held the bottle up to the sunlight. The sun, she was a’shining.

“We’re celebrating.”

“O, I see. What are we celebrating?”

“I didn’t have anything particular in mind...” Just that it was almost happy hour, I guess. And I was a–feelin’ happy.

“O, I just bet.”

“But we can celebrate that if you drink alcohol it will turn into acetic acid and it will get ya a little drunk, so bottoms up, babe!”

“Is that all we’re celebrating?”

“Wanna go celebrate in the bedroom?”

“O, how will we do that,” she said trying to be as oblique as me.

“Roleplay! You be the kazoo, and I’ll be the, uh ....”

“The girl who gets drunk on one glass of champagne?”

“Ha! What a good idea... but I’m not too drunk to blow a kazoo, if ya know what I mean.”

“I think we all know what you mean.”

“Good, because explainin’ takes away from the celebratin’ time.”

“After you, ya little booze puppy.”

I collected a butt spank as I sashayed past my Mary on the way to celebrate kazoos and party favors and champagne and stuff and things.

Sometimes it takes the sharp, piercing clarity of sunlight the day after you had an entire glass of champagne to help you realize that things have spiraled out of control.

“Morning, sunshine,” Mary said to me.

“Morning,” I yawned as I stretched.

“How you feeling this morning?”

“Like I need to practice drinking more before it’s winter. I don’t think I’ve had a drink since March.” And no way were we getting through winter with the same degree of sobriety as the last nine months. I mean, I gotta admit I’m pretty tired of being in my right mind, such as it is, or what’s left of it.

She reached over and laid her hand on top my chest, leaving it there for me to think of how wonderful her hands and all the things she can do with them are. “I think you were mostly just excited and got a little happy. You certainly had no trouble concentrating when the moment of truth came.”

“Wait,” I pretended to be confused, “which one of us was the moment of truth again?”

“Hehe. You wanna go to breakfast?”

“We can?” Getting to leave the house? Count me in. Getting to have people make me food and bring it to me? Count me in! Supporting our local businesses and workers? Hellz yeah!

“Sure.” She drummed her fingers once on my chest before she sat up. “But let’s go right now while there won’t be anyone there.” She was on her knees above me, and for a second I thought who needs to be out of the house when Mary can be the line cook and I can be a puddle of pancake batter (I’m better at roleplay starting around 9ish), but she practically bounced right off the bed. Mary in boy shorts and a halter ...

She walked to her dresser and looked at me and laughed.

“What,” I asked.

“You’re making your potty face.”

“Am not!”

“Well,” she said as she sauntered back to the bed. Mary may be the only person who can break into a saunter in just two steps. “There’s a way to prove that.”

“I was just thinking of ooomooofoo,” I was in the middle of saying when she threw the comforter over my head, grabbed me by the ankles, and tugged me to the foot of the bed. I pulled the covers back down and clarified, “I was just thinking of how pretty you look this morning.”

“Aww,” Mary said as she patted my front, flipped her hand over, and did an underhanded pat on the part of me that isn’t my front and isn’t my back.  “You look pretty too, and you’re right. That wasn’t your potty face. But you are wet, Daffy Dew Drop. When did that happen?”

“Before we went to sleep last night,” I protested indignantly. “And again around ... I don’t know but I was awake for it!”

“Daffy, you silly goose, don’t go to bed in a wet diaper. Say something and we’ll change you before we turn out the lights.”

“I thought you might have been asleep already.” I was about to suggest she just let me change out of them and into regular pajamas if she was already asleep, but no, she had to jump in there first.

“I’m gonna hafta start checking you before we turn off the lights.”

“You’re just saying that to make me blush.”

“And because it gives me an excuse to make fondling you the last thing I do every day.” And with that she tickled my tummy lightly.

“Hehe!” I sat up. “But I don’t wear them every day.”

“Then I’ll just hafta to check that your jammies are still dry. Lay back down and we’ll get you all cleaned up.”

“I wanna shower.”

“Later. We don’t wanna hafta wait in line.”

“O. I’ll just ...”

“Daffy, down,” she said and gave my shoulder a nudge.

“I can just throw on some ...” I tried to say from on my back again.

“You don’t wanna wear undies after being in wet huggies all night without a shower.”

“Um, pretty sure I’d be fine with that.” I doubled checked in my head, and yep, fine with that.

“Nonsense,” she said as she got out a diaper from the closet. “Just imagine if you were Elsa.”

“Elsa?”

“From Frozen, Daffy. The little girl on your undies. Just imagine if you were Elsa and how you’d feel if you were on a clammy bottom that had been in a wet pampers all night. That wouldn’t be very fair to her.”  Well, I’ve never seen that movie, but Elsa strikes me as a generous spirit who would be okay with that.

“Mary, but seriously, I don’t wanna wear a diaper to breakfast.” I’d been outside the house in them three times, and that was at least seven times too many for me.

“Well, I can see how you’d feel that way.” Wtf? Dismissing me … She went into the closet and emerged with a diaper. “Open your knees for me, just like last night,” she chuckled.

I did because I’m a very good girl, but I wasn’t gonna just give up. I mean, sure, a little wetness kissed my toes when the plastic panties came off, but grrr. “I can just wear pullups to breakfast,” I ventured as she undid the velcro holding on one of the cloth diapers.

“Yes you could. Up.”

“Mary…”

“Up up.” I rolled my eyes so hard the springs creaked but lifted and felt cool air on a butt getting clammier by the second since the plastic panties came off. They do hold in body heat kinda well. She put a new diaper under me, the kind she dropped on me at her sister’s house that are quiet and thinner but look like they came from a nursing home. Not that I like the other kind …

“Hhhh,” Mary gasped.

“What?”

“I see a naked butt.” She looked at me very seriously. “What color is it gonna be when you go to bed tonight?”

“The same color it is now,” I answered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” dammit.

“Are you sure it isn’t going to need to be spanked today?”

“Well,” I wondered out loud and made my I’m–wondering face, “it might need a good girl spanking around lunch time … and again at bedtime … and possibly while dinner is in the oven.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna be good today?” She took her fingers in a wipe and tickled parts and places. “Is you gonna be a good girl?”

“Marrrry!” I wanted to say stop with the little talk. And I wanted to say down and to the left with the tickling part. Because reasons. But she stopped on her own. “What gives this morning,” I asked her.

“What do you mean,” she asked as she wiped my personal area off. I swear if she calls it my diaper area one more time I’m gonna sit there silently and stew about it because apparently that’s what I do now.

“You’re being a little … big.”

“It’s a new day, Daffodil, and I’m excited. You should wake up early more often.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to.”

“Wanna go back to bed?”

“Maybe after breakfast … but seriously, I wanna wear panties today.”

“That,” Mary said as she sealed the last tape on her diaper on me, “is a very interesting story. You should tell it at parties.”

“Mary! That was kinda bitchy.”

“Sorry, but no can do until after you’ve showered.”

“What if I wear a pullup,” I decided to ask instead of merely suggest.

“Daffy, you don’t wear pullups.” I remember when that statement would’ve been a duh. And I remember when that statement would’ve been a good thing.

“I do, too! … When you make me.”

“And when was the last time I did that?”

“Um … a while?”

“Yep,” she said and held out her hands to help me sit up. “You ran out of pullups months ago. Uuuuup you go. You’re getting heavy, Daffodil.”

“Take that heccin back,” I said when I was on my feet.

“I’m just teasing.” And then she gave me a kiss because she’s impertinent. “Because I like seeing how red you turn when you make a grumpy face. Yoga pants or jeans?”

“I’ll wear the jeans. You wear the yoga pants.”

Breakfast wasn’t much better. Well, it was really good and I was glad to just be out, but Mary had her devilishness turned up to 11, like when she asked the waitress, “Actually, can we can get her milk in a cup with a lid on it.”

“Mary,” I grumbled under my breath.

Or when the waitress asked if we were ready to order, and Mary said, “She’ll have the Meg Ryan, but can we get that as an egg white omelet with turkey instead?”

“Mary,” I said when the waitress left, “I can order for myself. I haven’t forgotten how ya know.”

“I know, but what were you gonna order?”

“A waffle with chocolate chips and bacon.” Which is a very grown up breakfast, dammit! Really!

“I thought so. We need to start eating a little better. It’ll be bikini season before ya know it.”

“It’s November, and you ordered a waffle!” Double talking so and so.

“And you can have some of mine if you eat enough of your omelet.”

“I’m not a little girl! You’re being so mean to me today.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” she said like she was innocent. “And I can see you enjoying yourself.”

“Am not … how?”

“Your collar bone has that little red spot,” she told me and winked, “and you only get that little red spot …

“I know when I get that little red spot!” Stupid spot broadcasting my … feelings. I’m gonna stop wearing scoop necks.

When we got home, after I showered, I did some snooping, and Mary was right, there were no pullups. Ruh roh.