Mary and Daphne #65 (Patreon)

It could be worse. She could’ve tied me down.

This is what I think to myself with my wrists secured to a spreader bar that’s secured to ankles. At least I was face up, getting to inspect our ceiling, enduring my double super-secret timeout.

And I don’t think I did anything to deserve it. I mean, other than what I did to get myself deposited in timeout. All I said was, “Dammit, Mary.” Which kinda deserves a double super-secret timeout.

Or maybe ‘said’ isn’t the right word. Whined, pouted, moaned, cursed. Any of those would work. My coming to agree with those descriptors, and admitting I had a “tone” and an “attitude” and a “bitchy” demeanor are proof that this timeout did, as my wise Mary must’ve known it would, show me the error of my ways. Mary knows things. That’s what she does: she bedevils me, and she knows things. The two are often closely intertwined.

And having learned my lesson, surely my timeout should’ve been over. I learned it probably within the first twenty minutes of my timeout, and that was four hours ago. I think. I was hallucinating for part of that.

The rules for the spreader bar timeout are different than for other timeouts. I’m allowed to move. I just can’t move much, and if I move too much I’ll fall off the bed. That rule variation helped at first. Mary put my paci in my mouth, so after the first hour, I occupied my time by spitting it up into the air and trying to catch it. I never did manage that, but it was something to do. But then around hour seven it landed on the floor.

For the next nine hours, I occupied myself doing core exercises. I struggled to my feet, flopped forward, and did it again backward. Maybe eight hundred reps? I’ma be sore tomorrow. So that made me sleepy, and I napped for a day and a night.

I’m not allowed to talk in regular timeout, but I can be a regular chatterbox in the spreader bar. I sang Gilbert and Sullivan’s best hits, all of Jesus Christ Superstar, Rent, and all of Puccini’s operas. That filled in a couple days but made me thirsty. That’s when the hallucinations started.

First, I was turtle someone had flipped over. Then I was in a magical land called Turtleville, and all the turtles who walked by (slowly) told me I deserved to be flipped over if I was gonna wear diapers like an otter, which made perfect sense to hallucinating me and makes no sense now.

That’s when I turned into an otter, on my back ready to eat dinner off my tummy, but there was no dinner. That’s when I turned into dinner. I was relieved when the bears didn’t want to eat me, because apparently bears won’t eat anything that wears a diaper, but then I felt left out because I think I’m good enough to eat no matter what.

I said as much, which attracted the attention of the smallest bear, and small bears can be just The Worst. “No,” I pleaded. “Please!”

“No,” the bear asked. “Why not?” Such a mean bear. It was hairless, and it said stuff to me like, “You wanna stay in timeout, you silly goose?”

“Mary! Don’t let them eat me!” Ooo, if anyone can save me from the bears, sure my Mary can. Even if she was tickling my feet.

She scortled at me. “Wake up.”

Huh?

I opened my eyes and checked the room for bears, and I just saw the small evil one sitting on my dresser, inert.

“Did you have a good nap?”

“There were ... bears.”

“It was just a dream.”

“It was a hallucination. How long have I been up here? Did I miss Christmas?”

“Such a silly Christmas goose, plenty of time to fatten you up for our Christmas dinner.”

I didn’t respond to that for a moment in case this was Chapter 4 of my hallucination and I was about to turn into a goose. Only when I was sure I was in the clear did I say, “I’m sorry I was bad.”

Mary grimaced at me. “You were not bad, Daffy. You just made a bad choice. Did you learn anything while you were up here?”

Other than that I know all the words to ‘Modern Major General’? “Don’t whine.”

“Yep. I’m sorry you got frustrated, but I don’t appreciate you whining at me and using a swear word to do it.”

“I know. I know better. Sorry.”

“If I tell you don’t need a change, you just need to wait.”

“But ... sorry.”

“You were barely wet.” Which was true then but not now.

“It was cold.” That was the real point. It was clammy and seriously uncomfortable.

“How could it be cold? It’s the same temperature as your body.”

“I took it down to, you know ... You do know, right?”

“Yeah, I can guess.” Mary shouldn’t get to roll her eyes. That should exclusively be my right as the bratty sub.

“And then I slid it back up,” I told her.

“Ah. Well, there’s a couple ways to fix that.”

“Does one of them involve me peeing more?”

“Yep. The other one involves ...”

“You’re not allowed to say it!”

“I married the silliest goose.”

“May I get up now?”

“Yep, but first I’m going to feel you up.” Which she did. Well and thoroughly. “Hmm,” she smirked, “doesn’t feel cold now, and you definitely need changed. Was your dream that scary?”

“Marrryyy!”

“Fine, I’ll unlock you ... after I change you.”

“Can I have panties!”

“No way.”

“Why not ... I asked not whinily?”

“Because you’re already in diaper changing position, so secretly you must really want another one.”

“But ... urgh ... hmmmph,” I mumbled and let my head fall back to the mattress. I missed the bears. They were so much more forthright in their mistreatment of me.

“You should be grateful I even let you use the spreader bar after the brattitude you gave me,” Mary said as she emerged from the closet with a new diaper and wearing her I’m–gonna–gaslight–you–even–though–we–both–know–it–because–it–makes–you–go–urgh smirk.

“Urgh!” See? You see what she does?

She sat down next to me and started giving me some pretty solid thumps on what’s not quite my bottom and not quite my front. “What am I gonna find when I open this diaper?”

“Pee,” I didn’t pout.

“I know that, sweetheart. I have lots of experience checking for peepee in your pampers. I meant what else will I find?”

“Just pee.”

“I won’t find princess parts?”

“O, well, mhmm.”

“And this princess – is she chaste and pure?”

“Muh–ha! I mean, um, she’s been very chaste, but it gets harder everyday ... And she, um, has so many questions.”

“That just won’t do. No no no.”

“No?”

“No. I will not have a chaste princess in this house. I’ll just have to teach her some things while I’m changing her diaper.”

Ooo, conflicted. “I’ll be a good student.”

“I know you will, and I’ll let you out as soon as your lesson is over.”

“Can it be dinner time after?”

“Daphne, it’s not even lunch time yet. You’ve only been up here an hour.”