Mary and Daphne #112 (Patreon)

SMACK! “I’m not interested in the opinion of little girls with spanked butts and wet tushes.” Thus spake Zarathustra. Or Mary. Mary said it. It was a rather mean thing to say, if you ask me, and I did ask me and I think it was a rather mean thing to say even if she was being super sweet about it and mostly teasing.

“But I don’t wanna, Marrrry.”

“O my goodness, you is a whiny butt today.”

“If you baby talk at me one more time …”

“What? What’ll you do?” Standing there all smug with her smug face on because she knows I won’t do anything makes her all smug. Hmmmph!

“I’ll … I’ll fuss … hard … and you won’t like it.” I’m so pathetic. I acknowledge that just this once.

“You make the most adorable threats. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Yes.” Several times, and I didn’t like it then either.

“Well let me tell you something, Missy. I don’t care (kiss) if you fuss (kiss) so heccin hard (kiss) cuz it only makes you more adorable (kiss kiss kiss). So unless you want a repeat of last night, you’re going to lay there and let me get this diaper pinned on, or I’ll be sending you over to your Nana’s with a fresh bruise the shape of the paddle.”

“But she’ll see! Look at the thing! It’s like wearing the comforter off our bed!”

“You are so dramatic.”

Excuse me? O no she didn’t.“O no you didn’t just talk right past me. If you think it’s no big deal than trade places with me.” Take that!

“Little girl, do you need a reminder of what happened the last time you suggested I try on one of your diapers?”

“I am not a little a girl, and they’re not mine!”

“So that would be a yes then,” Mary said as she advanced on me. She’s always advancing on me, making advances and stuff and things.

“Marrry, n - woah! Stop just flipping me over!”

“Make me.”

What? What is even happening today? If anyone is gonna brat like that, it should be me. She just - when she says it, it’s just rubbing it in that I can’t make her do anything.

“You are so EEP! Mary (spank) ow - M-ouch (spank) hey. St-eep!” Spank spank spank her spanking hand went on the very delicate back of my very delicate thighs.

“You gonna be a good little girl and wear your diaper without whining?”

“You take that back! Ow ow ow ow! Yes! Urgh! Fine OW! I just said yes.”

“That was one to grow on.”

“I am too a grown up,” I reminded her and added, “and you’re just mean,” but I said that part quietly just in case. Not that I’m afraid of her. Really.

“Such big words for a little girl who’s pinned to the bed.”

“Ya know, as long as you’re back there, there’s this harness thing in the closet that you could … ya know.”

“That’s a fun idea, and maybe at bedtime. You need to finish getting dressed and get over to Nana’s. She’s expecting you.”

“Can’t I stay home? I can be quiet. I won’t interrupt your meeting.” She had an all-day meeting – was leading it, actually – and for some reason decided that meant spending the whole day at Nana’s. Mary Queen of Pretexts said it was so I wouldn’t interrupt and get in trouble, but it’s really because she wants me to get out and thinks I’d be bored all day trying to be extra quiet. Maybe, but I’m perfectly capable of making that decision myself. And I’d have been a lot more amenable to her decision – heck, maybe I’d have even found it helpful – if she hadn’t velcroed me into one of those stupid, thick, heavy, cloth diapers.

“No, you can’t stay home. You need to get out of the house. Are you gonna get dressed, or do you need me to do that too? I even laid stuff out for you.”

“I can do it myself,” I said before realizing that’s, like, Number Three on the Top-Ten List of Things Toddlers Say. True Story.

“Five minutes,” she said because she’s a general with a timetable to keep or something. I got dressed in what she laid out and spent the next three minutes inspecting my butt in the mirror, and for damn sure the skirt barely hid those stupid things. I’d only wore the cloth ones a couple times during the day, but one thing I knew for sure is what starts out firmly seated around my hips doesn’t stay that way. I did my very best to not waddle downstairs to confront (plead with) my tormentor (love of my life).

“Here,” she said as soon as I got to the kitchen, handing me a bag.

“What’s in it?”

“Changing stuff.”

“I’m allowed to do it myself?”

“It’s cute that you always ask that. If you need a change, you can come back over here at noon, or you can ask your Nana if she’ll do it.” She had her don’t-even-bother-protesting face on, so I didn’t bother to protest. “C’mere.”

“Why, so you can you be mean while hugging me?”

“Yes,” she said while being mean and hugging me. She even kissed me – the temerity of that woman! And sure, I like it, but just, hmmmph! Dammit! “I want you to have fun, be good, and smile,” she told me.

“Make me.” See? I can be sassy too.

“I pinky promise I’ll do just that after work. Now scoot,” she told me with a swat to make me scoot.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with her ordering me around and smacking my butt and making me wear certain stuff and things and kissing me all sweetly and stuff, so ya know what I did? I shouldered my bag and went over to Nana’s like she told me to … Dammit …

I didn’t knock because I was expected. Much as I didn’t want to leave the house wearing what she put me in (or really, stay in the house in what she put me in), I wasn’t unhappy to be spending the day with Nana. Spending the day with Nana can be all sorts of fun. There’s often baking, in blatant disregard of my addiction to turning sugar into cookies.

“Morning, Daffy,” Nana said from her kitchen.

It’s fine. Just walk in like there’s nothing weird about the pillow between your legs. “Morning,” I said and took very small steps. Who’s waddling? Not me cuz tiny steps! Yay!Really … please?

“What’s for breakfast,” she asked me. At least I think, that she didn’t notice anything at all about me walking funny.

“Is it my turn to make breakfast?”

“Of course not. I’m just teasing, but what can I make you?” This awesome thing happened when Mary started working from home – the requisite morning smoothie disappeared from our lives, and we started eating food for breakfast. That was my doing. If Mary was gonna make me get out of bed before lunch, I was gonna make an actual breakfast, and lo, before very long she stopped the smoothie nonsense. She does make me put vegetables in the omelets, but I can live with that.

“Whatever you’d like. I eat anything.”

“I noticed,” Nana said with a chuckle. You don’t think she was implying that I eat like a horse or a teenager or a teenage horse, do you? I’m very dainty and ladylike. Really.

“Let me help though,” I insisted, and I started dicing veggies for the omelets either because I want to be healthy or because Mary’s good habits are wearing off on me or on the off chance our menu got back to her cuz she’d definitely ask if I put something healthy in mine. You may not have noticed, but Mary can be very insistent about stuff, plus she’s always looking for excuses to teach me about being a better a person (is how I choose to think about it), not that I’m afraid of her (love her so much!). Really.

“Daphne,” my friend Nana said, “is it my mistake or did your butt get bigger since I saw you yesterday,” the person who lives next door and used to be my friend asked.

Clatter went the plate when I slipped and sent the mushrooms airborne, but don’t worry cuz the floor stopped them.

“Goodness but you are a nervous nelly,” the good-natured annoying lady said.

“Um, furnompeter konig.”

“Huh?”

“I meant, um, do you like peppers in your omelets?”

“No need to get shy, Daffy. I know it’s been a while, but you don’t need to blush. I was just curious. You look like you’re shoplifting a small throw pillow.”

O come on! I do not! Mmmph!“I, um, cloth. Mary. Mary made it. Made me. Made me wear it.” Hey, ya know what, Daphne? Shut up.

I can no longer tell is Nana is humoring us and our lifestyle and just trying to be accepting and doesn’t think anything of this stuff, or if she, too, now finds it delightful to make me squirm and is even better at Mary at hiding it when that’s what she’s doing, or what the heck the deal is. I don’t think she’s making fun of me, because she really doesn’t seem like that kind of person. There was that one person in fourth grade I thought was my friend who was really just making fun of me, but I’ve gotten to be a much better judge of character in the intervening twenty-odd years. And might I add how well I’ve overcome that trauma? Really.

“I didn’t know they even made those for adults. Do you like it?” Has anyone besides me ever done a spit take when there wasn’t anything in their mouth?

“Ftimen … fum.” Dammit …

“Are you okay today? I swear, even when we were just getting to know each other you weren’t so awkward about your lifestyle. Like I’ve always said, I don’t care what you wear, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, we can talk about something else.”

“People.”

“O … kay. We can talk about people.”

“I mean, haven’t been around. I haven’t been around people much since … and wearing … these. I never left the house in them before.”

“My house is your house.” And she went back to turning bacon. She’s weird, not me and not Mary. Well, actually, Mary is weird, Nana is weird, and I’m normal. For proof, I’d point to how I’m bothered by leaving the house in a cloth diaper and Nana is not bothered by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper and Mary is not bothered by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper. In fact, Mary seems rather delighted by me leaving the house in a cloth diaper. She had her I’m-delighted-you’re-leaving-the-house-in-a-cloth-diaper smirk on her face as soon as I got out of the shower. That's a sure sign. I’m normal. Abby Normal is normal. Mary is not normal. Really.

“If you don’t like it,” Nana said as she started cracking eggs, “why didn’t you red light?”

Why didn’t I who now? “Where did you learn about that?” Nana isn’t supposed to know about that stuff. She’s supposed to know about baking, sewing, some game called canasta that I think is played with dice and a checkerboard, and that sorta stuff … O my god! We corrupted a nana! That’s, like, sinful and stuff! It’s fine if a nana was corrupted already or corrupts herself, but we … eeeee! Bad, bad Mary and Daphne, very very bad!

“The internet.” What a coincidence – the same place I learned it, but not the point. “I was curious about your lifestyle. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the two of you are the most interesting couple I’ve ever known. I just wanted to understand how it works better.”

“O.” Ya know, if you don’t start being a better conversationalist, she’s not gonna wanna hang out with you anymore.

“Don’t worry. I’m over eighteen.”

“Ha! … I mean, mhmm.” Now you’re just being stupid. “Mushroom?” Now you just are stupid.

“Okay,” she chuckled, “I clearly put my foot in my mouth.” At least all the words she said are words, though. Nana one point, Daphne ‘ftimen fum,’ whatever the heck that was supposed to heccin mean. “Anyway, I was thinking of going to the farmer’s market today. Will you come with me? I thought we could do that, maybe do some window shopping, and get lunch.”

“I’d like that … but I ...” Ya know what, girl, cowgirl up. “I don’t wanna go out like this.”

“O … Can you change into something else?”

“I … No. Yes … But no.” You are no cowgirl.

“Well, that’s okay. We can find some things to do.”

“I mean I can, but I can’t. Mary said at noon. Or … you.”

“Me? She said I could change you?”

What? Of course she didn’t! Why would Nana think that’s what I meant … because words? “Toast?” What is it with you and food … besides food not judging you for wearing a diaper?

“We can have toast.”

“I like mine toasted … toasted medium, I mean. I’ll make it. You?”

“Daffy,” Nana said nicely and put her hand on my forearm, “take a deep breath. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want. We’re just friends. I’ll even tell Mary she’s not allowed to send you over here wearing that from now on if you want. It’s really not fair of her to do that to you if it’s going to make you like this.”

Of course, what Nana didn’t know was my little engine was revving from the whole conversation. Stupid humiliation fetish.

“No, I … I like it when Mary makes me do things.”

“Even things you don’t like to do?”

“Mostly. It’s complicated being me.” Or like me. I’m not unique. Plenty of kinky people in the world like me deal with the ever-present tension of not liking the things we’re made to do but liking (eroticizing, getting off on, bite-your-lip-so-they-can’t-tell-how-much-you-love-it) the heck out of being made to do it. Take my subby tendencies, my eager-to-please personality, my (alleged) brattiness, and my utter, bambi-eyed infatuation with Mary, and you might say I don’t stand a chance of ever getting out from under her wonderful thumb.

“That’s why you didn’t red light,” Nana concluded out loud, but of course I already knew that.

“Like I said, I like obeying Mary.”

“Even when that means you’re stuck inside the house because of what she put on you?”

“I’m not stuck. I’m … choosing to be stuck. Which is totally different.” Dammit …

“It might be less obvious in something else.”

“I don’t have anything with me, and I can’t go back over. It’s like she’s hosting a secret society or something.” I may have rolled my eyes when I said that, less at the secrecy because there wasn’t a secret and more at Mary’s insistence that I get out of the house and stay out of the house. “She just wanted me to get out of the house.”

“Fat lot of good that does you if you can’t go further than here.”

“She did …” Hey, what did we just say about you shutting up? That I should shut up. So I shut up.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I bet it’s something,” she said in that you-can’t-hide-anything-from-your-nana way she has, often paired with the and-you-wouldn’t-want-to-hide-anything-from-your-sweet-loving-nana-would-you vibe she gives off. She should sell used cars or interrogate suspects or something. “Is it something that will get us out of the house today?”

“Sorta.”

“Well, I don’t mind staying home this morning, but I was really hoping to get out before it gets hot.” I know she wasn’t miffed at me, but I could tell she was miffed at Mary. Take it from someone who has been miffed at Mary more than the average pooh bear.

“She said you could, um …” I finished that sentence with a shrug.

“I see. Is that what’s in your backpack?” I just shakily nodded my head. “Are you okay with it?”

O my, what a question. Let’s see, the answer to that would be … I don’t know. That’s why I went to the trouble of getting a Mary, so I could get her advice on these sorts of intractable life problems. But then I guess she did give me her advice when she gave me permission. Of course, ‘gave’ is not really the best way to think about it. More like I had permission foisted upon me.

“I don’t wanna ask,” is what I said, which is when that little voice in my head that’d been telling me to shut up knocked her chair over as she stood up, grabbed her purse, and walked out muttering, I hate this job. I don’t blame her.

“I’m offering,” Nana offered. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No … I mean no, it wouldn’t.”

“Not that I’m trying to pressure you. We’ll find something fun to do until this afternoon if that’s what you wanna do.”

“I wanna obey Mary … and I wanna go out … after breakfast.”

“Okay,” Nana said like it was no big deal, and it was such a big deal and the only person who understood that besides me was the disgruntled voice in my head who came back to her erstwhile office just long enough to say, I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself. Which isn’t just a cliché in my case. Maybe I need to put some time into getting all the parts of my brain to work together as a team for once. Like the staff the logic zone could have lunch with the staff from the erotic zone just to start things off and maybe even grow to trust each other and work together for once. Or maybe I need to hire some better people for the logic zone. They seem to know their stuff, but hoo boy do they have a hard time making their case to the erotic zone employees

“Okay?” I didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did … so there … take that. I’m not feeling defensive for no reason … you are! Dammit …

“Right after breakfast we’ll get your pants changed and we can go out. Do you like your omelet?”

“Yes, thank you.”

This is how it starts, ya know. First time is a thing. Second time is less of a thing. Ten times later, it’s not even a thing and everybody just treats it like it’s normal, and if you’re the sub, you’re on the receiving end of a lot of abnormality.

Or maybe not. I mean, that hasn’t happened for me with spanking yet. Really. Dammit…