The Bully's Mother [Tier 2 and 3] (Patreon)

For the third time in as many weeks, the cherubic blonde boy runs off the school bus and into his house with tears streaming down his face. His mother, almost expecting this, is perched near the door, ready to give the supportive hug he needs to feel safe again.

“Was it that boy?” his mother asks. “Was he picking on you again?”

The boy nods. “Y-yes.”

“What did he say to you today?”

It’s the same story as it was the last two times he had come like this. That little fucker, the McManus kid from down the block, has been calling him names. Poking him. He gave him a bruise on his arm last week. All under the guise of ‘playing,’ but she knows better than that. Her son seems to have his very own bully.

Dad laughs–literally laughs–it off. “Maybe it’s a good thing, Beth. It might toughen him up.”

Beth would be the first to admit that her son is a little ‘soft.’ He’s nice. Polite. He’s very shy. He doesn’t care much for sports, robots, army men, and whatever else most boys of his age like. He likes animals and watching people dance on TV.

She’s always known that he might eventually be the target of bullies–heaven forbid people just let other people be who they want to be. But seeing it actually play out–seeing him come home in tears–is far more heartbreaking than she had anticipated it being.

He’s asked her, begged her, not to call the school. She understands that logic–there’s probably not a lower spot to be on the elementary school playground hierarchy than the position of the snitch. And, admittedly, she has already reached out to the school without his knowing. Her concerns were met with a lackadaisical “We’ll keep our eye on the situation.”

“If you’re so upset about it,” her husband says, “maybe you should do something about it yourself.”

“Do you think I should punch the kid in the face?”

He laughs. “No, no… I mean, maybe talk to the kid’s parents?”

It’s the sort of answer she expects from him: a solution that doesn’t require him getting involved.

She wonders if he might be right. Taking it up with the kid’s mother is probably the next best thing she could be doing, besides raising a bigger stink about it with the school. Or, you know, punching the kid in the face herself.

Years of living in the same neighborhood has given her a general sense of who’s who on the block. She doesn’t know the McManus family personally, but she has a general sense of who they are. They’re well off, for one. Not rich, though–otherwise, they probably wouldn’t live on this particular block. But the husband does well enough for himself in some sort of software business that his wife doesn’t have to work.

There’s a brood of kids in that house. Three, she thinks–but it sometimes seems like there’s a thousand of them. Disrespectful little rodents who run all over the place and get into things that they shouldn’t. On more than one occasion, she had to kick a McManus out of the backyard because whatever game they were playing had expanded far beyond their own yard. The oldest kid, Joey or something, once got in trouble for stealing folks’ undergarments from clotheslines. Never hers, she didn’t think, but she was careful never to hang any of her underpants outside to dry after that.

The Mrs. of the McManus family was fine enough, she supposes. They rarely interact all that much. Once or twice they’d run into each other and managed to make it through a minute or so of small talk.

It wasn’t Mrs. McManus’s fault that her kids were assholes. But Beth can’t help but wonder if there was more the woman could’ve done to prevent that from happening.

A few mornings later, feeling a little empowered by having an extra cup of coffee, she decides to take a walk down to the McManus estate after the school bus had coasted through the area to haul the children off to school for the day. She has no plan for what she’s going to say, but she’s got the gist of it down: Don’t let your kid fuck with my kid.

“Well, well, well,” says the woman on the porch as she approaches the house. Mrs. McManus herself, sitting in her tacky ratan chair and drinking from a comically large mug. “Is that Beth Ryder coming to visit me?”

“Good morning.” She wishes she could’ve used the woman’s first name, but she can’t remember what the hell it was. Gabby? Gina? Something with a ‘g.’

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw you,” the woman says. “Was it at the block party last summer?”

“It might have been.” Actually, she thinks it might have been a month or two ago at the grocery store, but she doesn’t see a point in stating that.

“What brings you by, Beth?”

“I wish it was something good,” Beth says.

“Oh no,” McManus groans. “What did one of my children do now? Break something? Yell at a dog?”

It’s hard to read Mrs. McManus’s tone. Either she’s truly upset to get yet another complaint about one of her children, or she’s just sick of having to pretend like she cares when someone voices said complaint.

“Your middle kid broke my flower pot last year,” Beth says. “But I didn’t bother bringing that to your attention. I figure the kid probably broke enough of yours too.”

McManus laughs. “He’s good at that.”

“So if your kids just annoyed me, I probably wouldn’t be coming by.

“Hmm,” muses McManus. She pivots her head from side to side to check out the area around us. Andrea is working on her garden a house or two down the street. Edward is walking his dog. Otherwise, it seems pretty quiet. “Would you like to have this conversation inside?”

McManus seems to be aware that this is a slightly more serious matter, which Beth appreciates. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Walking in through the front door, Beth spies a piece of mail on a table. Jennifer McManus. Well, she was wrong about the ‘g.’

“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea?”

“I had too much coffee already,” Beth says as she walks up the steps to the porch. “But thank you, Jennifer.”

“Jenny,” she corrects. “Please.”

The McManus house isn’t really that different from the Ryder house. There’s a clear attempt at order and cleanliness, but there’s also the trail of disarray left in the wake of her children. There are shoes everywhere. Almost every flat surface has a cup, a can, or a juice box sitting on it.

“Excuse the mess,” she says, plucking some clothes off the couch. “Though this isn’t as bad as it normally is.”

“I get it,” Beth says. “I just have one kid, and sometimes I feel like it's a fulltime job just to follow behind him and clean up after him.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right,” Jenny says, nodding. “You have a little boy, yeah? I think he’s the same age as my Timmy.”

“Yep.”

“You should send him over to play with the boys sometime,” she says. “They’d love that.”

“Actually, that’s kind of what I’m here about.”

“Our boys playing together?”

“Well…the interactions between your son and mine.”

Jenny sighs and Beth can sense that the woman’s fitting all the puzzle pieces together. “Ah, damn.”

“My son…well, he’s not like your son, I don’t think,” Beth says.

“How so?”

Tread carefully. She doesn’t want to offend Jenny or insinuate in any way that young Timmy is the brutish neanderthal that she imagines him to be. “I see your children outside playing all the time. I know they like sports and roughhousing and all that. And my son is quiet. He likes to read. He’s…”

Jenny nods. “I understand, Beth. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the school has called me a few times about Timmy’s behavior. I guess he’s gotten into a few scrapes on the playground.”

“I’m not saying he’s a bad kid,” Beth says. “But I don’t like my son coming home from school with tears in his eyes because your son keeps picking on him.”

“That’s fair,” McManus says. “I’ll talk to him. But…”

“But?”

“If I’m being honest…I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. You’d think I’ve got it all figured out by now, but I still feel like I’m floundering as a parent. My husband, he’s never home. And three boys. Three. And now Timmy’s acting up and…” There were tears in the woman’s eyes. “I just don’t know what the hell to do anymore.”

Ah shit. Beth hadn’t intended to come and make Jenny feel like shit. And she certainly didn’t have much parental advice to offer. Her son was a dream–a well behaved little boy who rarely needed reprimanding. She, too, was out her element when it came to discipline.

“Sometimes I want to spank them,” McManus says, shaking her head. “I won’t, of course. You can’t. Everyone says that you’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

Beth shrugs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah…I think I’ve heard that too.”

“I used to get spanked as a child,” the woman says. “And I feel like I turned out alright, you know? Hell, there’s times now where I feel like I could benefit from a good spanking. It might just smack some sense into me.”

Beth swallowed hard, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of Jenny propped over her knees–bare bottom exposed for a few good slaps. The thought shouldn’t have resonated with her as much as it did. But spankings were something that Beth thought a lot about. Receiving them. Giving them.

Blame it on her mundane sex life. Her husband was good for one screw per month, if she was lucky, and it lacked any of the bells and whistles that other folks seemed to have in their sex life. She had turned to the internet, going through seemingly gigabytes of romance novellas and erotic tales.

Beth liked the kinky stuff the most. Spankings–she loved reading about those. Just that act of dominance–the way an adult could be reduced to the role of a child in just a few quick slaps–made her wet in a way that little else did.

Focus, Beth.

“Ah, well,” Beth says, clearing her throat. “Isn’t that something, er, Mr. McManus can help take care of for you?”

“I’m not going to ask him to spank my kids, Beth.”

“Uh, no. I meant…you.”

“O-oh.” Jenny’s face suddenly turned a rather cute shade of pink. “I’m not sure Jeremy’s into that…”

Jenny was almost pretty. She probably had been quite the looker at one point. Until three children came along and reduced her to a life of servitude. She was, maybe, a haircut and some makeup away from turning a few heads though.

“That’s a shame.”

“Weren’t we talking about…our children?”

Beth laughs. “I think I said what I have to say about that. You’re going to talk to your son about picking on mine, right?”

Jenny nods. “I will. I promise.”

“I know you will. And I appreciate that.”

“Well, Beth, I’m really glad you came over to tell me about this. That means a lot to me. I’d much rather have heard it from you than to have heard it from the school. Was there anything else?”

Beth shrugs. “Well…if I’m being completely honest, I’m thinking about spankings now.”

She’s taking a shot. It’s a really dangerous one too. The chances at landing the shot seem pretty infinitesimal, but it’s one she still wants to take anyway.

There’s a pause, a brief and awkward silence, as Jenny McManus seems to consider whether or not she wants to humor this conversation. She finally opens her mouth, the corners of it stretching into something like a smile: “Oh yeah?”

“Oh sure. I think about them all the time.”

“Like…for your son? Or…”

“Oh, no. Like for me. My husband? Any adult, I suppose.” Beth is being a little cheeky. She sees an opportunity to be bold, and she’s going for it. “Do you think about spankings often?”

Jenny retains her smile as she leans back in her seat. She’s trying very hard to look comfortable and at ease with the conversation, but it’s obvious that this is just outside of her usual comfort zone. She doesn’t talk like this with anyone. Neither does Beth, of course, though Jenny wouldn’t know that.

“Uhm…sometimes,” she says, shrugging.

“I’m just saying,” Beth offers, sitting forward in her seat a little. “If you need one…”

Jenny chuckles and shakes her head. It’s like she’s so close to being on the same page, but isn’t quite there yet. “Are you asking to spank me, Beth? Because that’s kind of what it sounds like.”

“You’re the one who said you could use one,” Beth says. “I’m just being a good neighbor.”

Jenny’s cheeks turn pink again. She’s thinking about it. She’s imagining it. She seems a little excited by whatever she imagined.

“I just…miss being put in my place,” Jenny says. “I’m a fulltime authoritarian now.”

“Who will watch the watchmen?” Beth asks, a smug smile on her face.

“But you’re saying that you’d…do it? You’d spank me?”

Beth shrugs. “If you want me to.”

“No catches? No…blackmail? No photos that you’re going to text my husband in a week or two?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Beth laughs. “I don’t want to complicate it. I just want to spank you.”

“Like…would I just go over to you and…”

“I’m thinking you’d lie over my knees. Like a child would, you know? And I’d pull the back of your yoga pants down and…”

“So bare ass?”

Beth nods. “That’s what I’m thinking. Unless you’re opposed?”

Jenny laughs and shakes her head again. “Jesus Christ. I…I never imagined this would be happening in a million years, Beth. I barely know you. And you want me to just…”

“I want you to do whatever you want,” Beth says. “I’m just saying that if you want a good spanking–I’ve been really wanting to spank someone.”

“How do I know this isn’t just some weird power trip that you want to have because my son was bullying your son?”

“I won’t lie to you, Jenny. I think there is a part of me that wants that exact power trip.”

To Beth’s relief, Jenny’s reaction is a genuine chuckle. “Yeah…that’s fair.”

“Have you been a good girl, Jenny?”

Jenny seems to consider this question for a moment. “No,” she finally says. “I…I probably could’ve been better.”

“What did you say before? That you need someone to smack some sense into you?”

“Mm,” Jenny hums, sounding a little more onboard with the idea. “I did say that.”

“Well it’s a standing offer,” Beth says, starting to stand up. “If not today, then maybe another day.”

“W-wait,” Jenny says.

“Hmm?”

“I, uhm, think now works well for me.”

Beth can’t help but smile. She wishes she knew what the actual odds were of things working out this way. 12,000,000:1? How many alternate versions of Earth were there where Jenny cursed at Beth and kicked her out of the house for suggesting such things?

“Are you sure?” Beth asks.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, right? This just stays between you and me?”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Beth says. “Cross my heart.”

“Okay,” Jenny nods. “I want a spanking.”

“How badly do you want it?” Beth asks.

“I mean…I don’t know. I guess…pretty badly.” Her cheeks were getting nice and red again.

“Do you want one bad enough to beg me for one?”

For a split second, it looks like Jenny might have hit her limit in this impromptu game. But, just as quickly, she nods–confirming that she’s still playing.

Neither woman appears to be the same person they were when this conversation first began. They’ve stripped away the rest of their lives from this moment. All the kids. The husbands. The bills and the dishes in the sink. All the bullshit. What’s left are two women tapping into something a little more primal.

Jenny wastes no time in dropping to her knees in front of Beth–arms outstretched and clasped together. “P-please, Beth. I need this. I need a spanking. I desperately need to be taught a lesson.”

Beth thinks that Jenny could do a little better if she asked her to try again, but she bites her tongue. Beth did put herself out there, and she did pretty well for her first try. Beth nods, accepting the begging.

“Come up here,” she says to Jenny, patting her lap. “I trust you know how you should be.”

Jenny nods. She knows what to do. Slowly, she lowers herself over Beth’s lap, face down.

“Is this familiar for you?” Beth asks. “Is this what it used to be like when you’d get spanked?”

“Y-yes.”

Of all the things Beth thought she’d be feeling right now, she’s surprised that ‘warmth’ ranks so high. She felt hot. Jenny’s body felt hot. There’s almost like a warm aura around them–the sort that maybe she’s only felt when in the bedroom just before sex. Back when sex was exciting, obviously.

“I’m going to pull the back of your pants down,” Beth says. There’s a pause after, giving Jenny the opportunity to respond if she wants to. But it wasn’t stated as a question.

“Okay.”

This isn’t the way Beth imagined this morning going. At no point did she imagine that she’d be reaching under the waistband of Jenny McManus’s yoga pants and panties so that she could get a grip on them and pull them down past Jenny’s ass.

And what an ass. She wants to rub it with her fingers to see if her skin is as soft as it looks. It’s got that perfect round shape too. Goddamn. She’s kind of jealous of that ass.

It turns out to be a little harder to start the actual act of spanking. Everything’s there and ready to go. Jenny has her pants down and is over her lap and everything–all Beth needs to do is raise a hand into the air and strike. But she’s overthinking it. Does she do it hard? Fast? For how long? How many swats? Is she supposed to talk while she does it?

How do scenes like this usually go in the stories?

“Spank me,” Jenny finally says, her voice ripe with desire. “Punish me.”

That seems to be what Beth needed to hear. She needed to know that Jenny was on the exact same page. Not only is she, but Jenny might even be a page or two ahead. The fire in Beth is stoked, and it’s easy not to raise her open palm into the air.

Smack!

Her hand has a perfect landing on the ample space of Jenny’s left cheek. Though there’s contact for only the briefest of moments, Beth can confirm that Jenny’s skin is just as soft as she thought it might be.

Some sort of noise is pushed out from Jenny’s mouth–somewhere between a whine and a moan. There’s pleasure there, but it’s mixed with genuine pain.

“This is for my flower pot,” Beth says.

Smack!

“I’m so sorry!” Jenny cries out. That tone! It sounds like she’s personally accepted the guilt for that–like it was she who broke the flower pot.

This only serves to further empower Beth. Her hand raises in the air again. “This is for your damn kids trampling over my vegetables when they’re playing hide and seek!”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

That seems right–one smack for each child.

Jenny is breathing heavily as she wriggles and twists in Beth’s lap. Her bottom is already a delicious shade of pink, and everytime she opens her mouth she just lets out little gasps and moans.

“More,” she says to Beth. “I need more.”

“I know you do,” Beth says, rubbing Jenny’s bottom with her hand. Oh yeah, that’s a nice ass. She can’t do that for too long, of course–otherwise she’d be rubbing it for the rest of the day. Okay, back to work. She raised her hand up again, poised to strike. “This is for…my son.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! But that didn’t seem like enough. No, he deserved far more than that. Smack! Smack! Smack! And that still didn’t seem like enough. Smack! Smack! Smack!

Beth kind of lost herself for a moment, tuning out just about everything except for the act of punishing this woman’s behind. Upon finally breaking out of her trance, she finds that Jenny is crying. Not just crying–bawling. Tears are dripping down from her face. She’s sobbing. She’s an absolute mess.

“I’m sorry!” Jenny cries. “I’m so sorry! I’m so pathetic! I’m such a terrible mother! I’m…”

The world seems to stop for a moment as both Jenny and Beth realize what’s happening at the same exact time. Jenny is wetting herself.

“Oh…oh god, no…”

Jenny strains trying to shut it off, like it’s faucet, but it’s to no avail. Her panties and yoga pants are quickly saturated, with the rest of the warm liquid trickling down into Beth’s lap, soaking her pants and panties too.

“What did you do?” Beth asks, so dumbfounded that she can barely wrap her head around what she’s witnessing.

“I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

“You pissed on me?”

“It just…came out. I lost control.”

“Well, I can see why your children are out of control. You’re still a little toddler yourself!”

Smack! Smack! Smack! And then, why not, a few more for fun. Smack! Smack!

She was crying again. Bubbly sobs, interspersed with little moans.

Beth took a deep breath to center herself. As surprising as Jenny’s pissy accident was, it didn’t actually offend Beth all that much. It was kind of…exciting.

“I’m sorry,” Jenny mutters. “I…I can’t believe that I did that.”

“Aw, it’s alright,” Beth says, gently rubbing Jenny’s behind again. “Did the little girl have an accident in her pants?”

Jenny seems caught off guard by the change in Beth’s tone. It’s rather…maternal. A tone she likely recognizes from her own dealings with her children.

“Come on,” Beth says, trying to help Jenny get back onto her feet again. “Let’s take a look at the damage.”

Jenny lets Beth do just about anything that she wants. She’s a ragdoll in Beth’s hands. A helpless infant, maybe.

“Do you piss yourself often?” Beth asks.

“N-no. Never. Well…not often.”

Beth chuckles to herself as she shakes her head. “What are we going to do with you?”

Jenny offers a sheepish shrug. She looks anxious. Antsy. But her eyes remain fixed on Beth, and there’s something else there in her look. It’s a hungry sort of look. Desire? Lust?

“We should get you cleaned up.”

“I…I can clean myself up.”

Beth scoffs. “Oh please. You were just blubbering like a baby a minute ago. And you pissed all over yourself. And me. Here, lie down on the couch. I’ve got this.”

Jenny obeys without an ounce of hesitation, easing herself onto her back on the couch cushions.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just down the hall over there,” Jenny says, pointing. “First door on the left.”

Before Beth does anything else, she grabs hold of Jenny’s pants and panties again, giving them enough firm tugs that they are worked down her legs and eventually removed altogether. While Jenny doesn’t stop her, her hands immediately rush to cover up the exposed area between her legs.

Beth leaves her in this state, a smug smile stuck on her face as she slowly walks to Jenny’s bathroom. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s looking for, but she knows the problem that needs solving–a big baby needs cleaning.

It’d be nice to find baby wipes, though she doesn’t think she’s going to find them. All of her kids are out of diapers–or so she assumes. But, then again, she knows that she still keeps a pack or two of baby wipes around the house. They’re still useful for an assortment of child-related messes. And, sure enough, she sees a pack of them sitting on a shelf in the bathroom.

Hmm. She has a somewhat random thought–something she’d never have imagined her thinking: Wouldn’t it be fun if she had a diaper? Probably not an actual baby diaper…though that would certainly be a thrill.

“Here you go, Jenny. I got you a pair of Pampers. What do you think? Will you be able to fit into a size 4?”

But a diaper–any diaper–sounds fun. She finds the idea so titillating that she’s pretty sure she’s actually getting wet from it. Well…wetter. Spanking Jenny to the point where she pissed herself has been plenty exciting by itself.

She returns to Jenny, finding that she’s in the same spot she left her–her hands still covering up that trimmed tuft of pubic hair. The pink color of Jenny’s face is reminiscent of the color of her spanked bottom.

“I found these,” Beth says, holding up the baby wipes.

“Y-you really don’t have to do this,” Jenny says.

“I want to. Don’t you want me to? If you don’t, just tell me so. I’ll just head back home and we never have to talk about this again.”

First, Jenny pulls her hands away from her crotch, followed by her legs slowly opening–inviting Beth in.

“That’s a good girl,” Beth coos. “You know you’re a dirty girl who needs help being cleaned up, don’t you?”

Jenny nods. Truthfully, Beth would much rather Jenny saying it aloud–but she’ll take what she can get.

A damp wipe is drawn from the package, and Beth warms it in her hand first–an old habit from her days of changing diapers. She finds it funny that despite how strange this scenario is, it doesn’t feel all that different from when she used to clean an actual infant.

Jenny moans as Beth presses the wipe against her and begins to slowly swipe it across her skin.

“That’s it,” Beth says softly. “We’re just cleaning up the little girl, that’s all. She piddled all over herself.”

Jenny offers only a mildly-distracted moan.

“Do you know what I was thinking?” asks Beth. “I was thinking about how I wish I had a diaper that you could fit into. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be appropriate for a little pissy-pants?”

Beth braces herself for Jenny to reject the idea. It is rather out-there. But no, Jenny instead seems to moan louder.

“I’m going to assume that means that you wish you were in a diaper too. Is that right?”

Jenny finally pipes up: “W-would you really do that?”

“Oh, I most certainly would if I had one that I thought would fit you. In a heartbeat.”

Beth’s wipe passes through Jenny’s vulva, eliciting more longing moans from her.

“I think you’re just about cleaned up now.”

Jenny overed a sigh of disappointment.

“Ah,” Beth says, a warm smile on her face. “But you aren’t done yet, are you? You want more.”

“Y-yes,” Jenny says. “More.”

The wipe is discarded–just dropped on the floor–and Beth resumes her attention to Jenny’s glistening pussy. This time with just her fingers.

She’s never pleasured another woman before, nor has another woman ever pleasured her. She’s always been rather fond of the idea, though. Who knows what a woman wants better than another woman?

Beth’s fingers explore a little, though they quickly seem to find the magic little button. Judging by the way that Jenny was bucking and moaning, she suspects she’s doing something right.

And then, she abruptly stops and pulls her hand away. It takes Jenny a few seconds to realize that those fingers aren’t there anymore, but her moaning and quivering come to a halt too. She looks up at Beth–the look of a desperate woman who needs more than she’s ever needed before.

“I came here because your son was bullying my son,” Beth says. “You may have gotten the spanking that you deserved, but I’m still not sure I owe you any sort of pleasure.”

“But…I…”

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Just…a little more? Beth…please?”

Oh yes. That feels good–the sound of Jenny’s vulnerable voice as she begs for more.

“I think I’m done for today,” Beth says. “You got your spanking. I cleaned you up after you pissed on yourself. I still have to walk home with my jeans wet from your piss.”

“P-please, Beth. Stay? I just need, uhm, a little more. I’ll do anything.”

“I know you would, sweetheart. And I like that. I’d like to play with you again sometime.”

“Wh-when?”

“Let’s see if your kid can go a week without picking on my son, okay? Because if he can, maybe you and I can get together again.”

“Yes,” Jenny desperately nods. She doesn’t even seem to care that her legs are still spread open and that her wet and throbbing pussy is still on display. In fact, her own fingers are slowly creeping towards it. “Please, Beth.”

“But if I come back, I don’t want to see ‘adult’ Jenny. I want to see Baby Jenny, understand? The one who pisses herself. The one who begs for spankings. The one who…”

“…wears diapers?”

Beth laughs. “Exactly.”

“I’ll wear diapers,” Jenny says. “I’ll wear anything you want me to.”

Oh, it almost breaks Beth’s heart to see it–this woman, so overcome by desire and want, that she’s willing to sacrifice just about all of her dignity for it. She’s tempted to stay a little longer and to take advantage of this. She fears that if she leaves now, Jenny might eventually collect herself and realize that she was acting like a fool.

But Beth is pretty damn sure she’ll be hearing from her again.

When she leaves Jenny’s house, Jenny is still pawing at herself on the couch. The poor girl clearly has no idea how loud she can be, because Beth hears one of her moans from outside on the sidewalk.

That’s nice. I hope a neighbor or two hears that.

In the days that follow, Beth keeps a close eye on her son. She studies his face. She asks him questions about school. She tries to inquire about whether or not anyone is starting trouble with him without directly asking. For the first few days, he seems in better spirits–though it can sometimes be tough to know if he’s genuinely happy or if he’s just faking it because he thinks that’s what his mother wants.

But later in the week, with a little bit of gentle prodding over dinner, he says that it was a good week at school. She asks if anyone has been picking on him. He says that he’s been left alone, and he says it rather convincingly.

“What did you do?” her husband asks later.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Beth. This has your fingerprints all over it. One week the boy is breaking down in tears because of some bully. And suddenly he’s all happy and smiley again. You did something, didn’t you? Did you actually go and talk to the kid’s parents?”

“You don’t believe that our son is capable of handling the situation himself?”

He scoffs. “Forgive me for not counting diplomacy as one of his best qualities.”

“I may have paid Jenny a visit.”

“Ah, you’re on a first-name basis with her now?”

“We hit it off,” she shrugs. It’s a vast understatement, not that he’d know.

“Making friends and keeping our son safe. Impressive.”

The next day, she’s tempted to just stroll over to Jenny’s house as soon as the school bus passes through the neighborhood. No, she decides. Jenny is expecting her. Maybe Beth would make her wait a little. She decides to busy herself with some housework instead.

About an hour later, there’s a short rap on the front door that cuts through the Fleetwood Mac that Beth is using to keep her motivated while she cleans the house. She pauses the music and grins. She knows who it is before she even opens the door, and it delights her. The silly girl is so desperate that she’s actually come to Beth instead of waiting at her house.

Beth answers the door with the smuggest smile she’s ever worn in her entire life. It is, in fact, Jenny at the door.

“Uhm, hi. I was just strolling through the neighborhood and I thought I’d, uh, stop and check in with you,” she says while nervously playing with her hair.

“That’s very kind of you,” Beth says. “Would you like to come in?”

Jenny takes a cautious look around her, as if she fears she might have been followed. No, it doesn’t seem like there are any unmarked vans or black cars with blacked out windows. The coast is clear. She follows Beth inside, the door closing behind her.

“How has your son been?” Jenny asks.

“He seems to have had a good week.”

“Good,” she nods.

“Seems like you must’ve figured something out at home, hmm? Something that’s kept him out of my son’s hair?”

Jenny shrugs, blushing a little. “A few threats. Grounding. I might have been a little ruthless. But, then again, I might have gotten through to him a little. His teacher called me this week. She says he seemed a little more…attentive.”

Beth smiles. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I don’t want you to think that the only reason I reprimanded Timmy was because I wanted to, uhm, see you again.”

“I don’t think that,” Beth says.

“But I did want to see you again.”

“Oh?”

“Well, after you came over to my house… I’ve just been, like, thinking about it. A lot.”

“We did have a very good conversation,” Beth shrugs. She kind of likes the aloof attitude she’s sporting. It seems to fluster Jenny even further than she already is.

“I know you said you were going to come to me, but…”

“Were you just too excited? You couldn’t contain yourself?”

Jenny nods. It looks like years have already been stripped away from her. She almost passed as an adult when she knocked on the door, but she’s certainly not one now. That way that her pleading eyes look up at Beth’s? The way she dances nervously in place on her tiptoes? She’s been reduced to a little girl again.

“Y-yes. Is that bad?”

“Not at all,” Beth says. She notes that her tone has changed a little without her even realizing. It sounds softer, with a hint of authority. It’ll later occur to her that it’s the way she perceived her own mother’s voice to sound.

“I…bought them.”

“Them?”

“Y-you know…”

“Hmm,” Beth shrugs. “I can’t say that I do. You’ll have to remind me.”

Jenny is plenty flustered. Her red cheeks are irresistibly adorable. “Uhm…diapers?”

“Diapers?” Beth asks. “You bought diapers?”

Jenny offers a tiny little nod, her cheeks getting brighter.

“Diapers,” Beth repeats. “That’s so strange. Because I know your son is too old for diapers, right? So why would you buy them? They must be for a baby. But…what baby?”

Beth is expecting some more hemming and hawing from Jenny–maybe they could stretch out this teasing conversation for a few more minutes. But one can never underestimate the power of desperation. Jenny is almost too quick to give Beth the answers she’s seeking.

“It’s me. I’m the baby.”

“You? You’re…a little baby?”

Jenny nods.

“What makes you a baby?”

Jenny’s face becomes so red that Beth is close to suggesting that she should get the fire extinguisher. “W-well… I, uhm, pee my pants.”

“Oh yes,” Beth nods. “That definitely sounds like something a baby would do. What else?”

“Sometimes, at night, when I’m thinking about you and me and…diapers…I, uhm, suck my thumb.”

“Do you, now? I’d like to see that.”

Jenny immediately lifts her hand to her face, thumb extended, and slips it into her mouth. She even gives it a few good suckles–like she’s got a new talent that she’s eager to show her mother.

“Goodness. Well I’ve never seen an adult do that. Let me ask–are you wearing a diaper? Like a good little baby would?”

“Y-yes.”

“Show me.”

Jenny nods and quickly starts unfastening her pants before giving them a push down her thighs. And there it is–what is obviously a diaper. But it appears that Jenny has gone above and beyond with her assignment. Because while this looks like a baby’s diaper, with its cute pastel colors and the cartoonish shapes printed on it, this clearly wasn’t created with a literal baby in mind. It’s huge–possibly even a little too big for Jenny. It’s thick, too. Seeing the diaper now, Beth wonders how she missed what must’ve been a massive bulge in her pants.

“Do…you like them?” Jenny asks timidly.

“I love them.”

“I hoped you would. And, uhm, there’s something else too…”

But Jenny doesn’t have to say what it is–Beth is already well aware of Jenny’s other surprise. She’s seen plenty of diapers to know when one has been saturated. The way it sags between Jenny’s legs. The discoloration. The way that the plastic distorts. In fact…she’s almost certain that she can smell Jenny’s pissy diaper.

“Uh oh. Did the baby have a little accident?”

“Y-yes.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

“Oh…it was a while ago. An hour?”

“An hour? Little girl, are you telling me that you’ve been stewing in your dirty diaper for an entire hour? You walked from your house to mine, in public, with this giant diaper under your pants–all while completely soaked?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Beth is rather fond of ‘ma’am,’ but she thinks she can offer something even better: “If you’re going to be coming to me for help with your diapers, then you should start calling me Mommy.”

This request catches Jenny off guard, but she does seem to like it. “Yes…Mommy.”

“Good girl. Now…I notice that you didn’t bring any sort of bag with you. No purse. No backpack. No…diaper bag.”

“Uhm…” Jenny scratches her head.

“You should’ve come with extra diapers. Wipes. Baby powder. A pacifier, perhaps? A baby bottle?”

“I…I’m sorry. I was so excited to come here that I guess I forgot them.”

“Ah yes, babies are rather forgetful, aren’t they? But that does put me in a bit of a predicament. There’s not much I can do for you here. I’m not about to take this diaper off of you if I can’t put you into a fresh one.”

“Oh. Well…I could go back to my house and get another one, if you’d like.”

“I could just go with you,” Beth shrugs, “and take care of the baby there.”

“Th-that works too.”

“But before we do that, there is one more little thing we need to take care of.”

Jenny opens her mouth to respond, but doesn’t actually say anything.

“Did you need a spanking, little baby?”

“Yes… I do.”

“How badly do you need one?”

Jenny seems to regress even further. She looks younger and younger. Smaller and smaller. More and more pathetic and helpless.

“Very badly,” Jenny says, her voice so faint that Beth almost can’t hear her.

“Well I’m not convinced you need one.”

“I…I need to be spanked,” Jenny says, her voice suddenly so full of energy that she’s almost squealing. “Please! Please…Mommy.”

“Mm,” Beth hums. “Begging does seem like a good way to get what you want.”

Jenny drops to her knees in an instant, her thick diaper crinkling loudly between her legs. Her hands are clasped together and she’s thrusting them up towards Beth. “Please, Mommy! I need a spanking so badly! I need to be over your lap! I need you to punish me! I…I’m just a sad little baby and… I just need this so badly!”

“You make a very good argument,” Beth says. “Very well, then. On your feet. Come with me.”

Jenny stands again, and Beth takes her hand, leading her to the big recliner near the bay window of the living room. She takes a moment to turn the chair around so that it now faces the window instead of the television, and then she pulls open the curtains as wide as she can.

“Here we go. This is a good spot, yes?”

“R-right in front of the window?”

“I doubt anyone will see. But…you never know–some nosy soul might look up. But if you want a spanking, this is how it’s going to be. Over my lap, your diaper pulled down just enough so that your bottom is exposed, and with us facing out the window. Even if nobody looks in here to see you, I want you to look out and see them. I want you to see those adults as they walk by. And I want you to think about how you’ll always be smaller and more helpless than they’ll ever be.”

Jenny doesn’t have to agree to these terms–it’s already a forgone conclusion that she’ll comply. In a matter of moments, she is right where Beth said she’d be–pulled over Beth’s lap with her diaper pulled down.

Smack!

Beth wonders if the act of spanking felt as good to her as being spanked felt to Jenny. Because she feels amazing while she’s smacking that smooth and soft bottom.

Smack!

It’s cathartic. It’s like therapy. A venue for her to get out some of her frustrations.

Smack!

That one was for her son. He was doing better now, and she had confidence that Jenny would ensure that Timmy stay out of his path. Beth was still a little miffed about the whole thing though. She figured she’d dedicate at least one slap to her son each time she and Jenny got together.

Smack!

And it sounded like Timmy might have been doing better himself. A shame that his mother had to get the piss slapped out of her for this to happen–but better it happen this way than not at all. Maybe someday Timmy will be a productive member of society. Beth thinks she’ll take at least a little bit of credit for that. And if he turns out to be a boil on the skin of society? Well…Beth never liked the kid much anyway.

Smack

Oh but this new little toy of hers–this little baby doll. She’s very fond of this. There’s all sorts of things she wants to do with her little Jenny. She’s going to change all of her diapers. Even the smelly ones.

Smack!

Yes, she’s quite sure that she can get Jenny to make stinky little messes in her diaper too.

Smack!

She’s going to give her baths.

Smack!

She’s going to feed her bottles. Maybe she’ll feed her jarred baby food too.

Smack!

She wonders if she can show off her little doll to some of her friends. Not all of them, of course. But there’s a few she’d trust enough to share this splendor with.

Smack!

There goes a group of people outside, walking on the sidewalk. They’re all younger than the two women. College-aged, maybe? They’re laughing and talking to each other. Two of them are holding hands. And Jenny is watching them through her teary eyes as she blubbers because her ass is getting spanked like a toddler.

Smack!

Everyone needs to feel taken care of once in a while. Especially mommies. Three kids? Sheesh. Yeah, Beth would want to be regressed to an infant too.

Smack!

She keeps waiting for Jenny to say that she’s had enough. But Beth is in no rush–she could do this all day.

Smack!

If this little girl wants her pissy diaper changed, she’s going to have to learn how to eat pussy.

Smack!

In fact, that’s what Beth is going to demand as soon as this spanking is over. Oh wow. The idea of Jenny’s face–wet with tears, snot, and drool–being pushed between her legs—well, that’s making her pretty wet.

Smack!

No…wait. That might be Jenny’s diaper leaking. Did she piss herself again while being spanked?

“Have you had enough?” Beth asks.

“M-more. Please, Mommy?”

“If you insist…”

Smack!