Mary and Daphne #172

“Daffy, you’re looking a little poofy pants.” Nana is just … like an older version of Mary sometimes. Whereas by contrast, i.e., difficult to see in the glare of the brilliant light I shine down across all my eyes survey, I am always me.

Except not exactly cuz if Mary said that, I’d have told her where she could go (nowhere; I like having her around, if only to have her reach the stuff on the top shelves). But in the case of Nana saying it (and I thought my shorts hid it well, dammit!), I just turned tomato red and almost swallowed my tongue (and I don’t even like tomatoes!). Hmmph!

“Daphne isn’t potty trained,” Mary helpfully informed Nana. If she gets any more helpful I’m gonna need to talk with her about being a less helpful and stuff.

“Huh?” Exactly!

“Until the puppy is potty trained, Daphne isn’t potty trained.”

“Do you gotta tell all our secrets,” I hissed at Mary. “She’s gonna develop a bad opinion of you.” I was referring to the dog. I remind Mary frequently that the dog sees and hears everything. She’s gonna grow up thinking I’m the only one she can trust with secrets.

“Such a silly girl.”

Can you believe she calls me names like that? And in front of the neighbor no less! Then – o hell naw! – she reached over and gently lifted the puppy off my lap and into hers. I told her she should’ve gotten a puppy of her own (shortly after we got it home following my years of saying I didn’t want one and only getting this one cuz she wanted it so badly).

“And you still haven’t named her,” Nana asked.

“We can’t decide,” Mary replied.

“I can decide. I’ve decided several times.”

“Maybe more you can’t agree,” Nana commented. That would be the crux of it. “What names have you come up with so far.”

“Well, Ferris,” Mary suggested.

“She’s a dog. She doesn’t get a day off.” That was me. Nana would never be so mouthy. At least, not to Mary. To me, yeah, she can be quite the smart-aleck, which is kinda rude cuz I wanna be the smart-aleck and I got there first (despite being less than half her age).

“Super dog.” That was me, cuz this dog is so super! I’m obsessed with it, just not in the overly anxious, I’m-gonna-have-a-panic-attack-any-moment way that I was worried about. I guess I’ve grown.

“I’m not standing at the back door shouting ‘Super Dog’ when it’s time to come in.”

“Why not? That would be funny.” I’d tell people the dog’s name is Johnand that Mary’s just getting weird or something … as opposed to myself who’s been a smidge weird the whole time except for the fact I’m a hundred and ten percent normal and an example to all on how to be exceptional at it.

“I’m with Mary on that one,” Nana added. “Any other ideas, Mary?”

“I like Daisy. Daffodil and Daisy. Wouldn’t that be so cute?”

“I am the flower. You do not get two flowers.”

“What about Ducky,” Mary asked Nana. “Daffy and Ducky.”

But like I gave Nana a chance to respond to that ludicrousness. “Firstly, why a Looney Toons reference? Do we owe Warner Brothers money or something?”

“Cuz you’re looney,” Mary said when I wasn’t even done talking, and anyway, my alleged looneyness (looneyoscity?) is neither here nor there (cuz it’s everywhere despite my stellar normality, but still not the point).

“And second, what is this and you keep referring to? ‘Daffodil and Daisy,’ ‘Daffy and Ducky.’ Are you promoting the dog to spouse or demoting me to pet?” Damn I’ve been wanting to say that for days!

“Neither,” Mary said with her wide-eyed o-that’s-what-bother-you-oops-I-didn’t-even-realize-I-was-doing-that face.

“Then stop trying to pair her name with mine.”

“I think she has a very good point,” Nana chimed in.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Mary replied. “I was just thinking of what would be cute.”

Yeah, cute as in like playmates. The dog is not my sibling, and I am not her littermate.

“Daffy,” Nana said like someone’s mom interjecting to put a stop to an argument, “what are some of your other ideas?”

“Scoots.”

“Vetoed,” Mary practically coughed out. No one appreciates my sense of humor sometimes. But I’m still gonna call her that sometimes (the dog, not Mary, cuz I want my butt to live … but maybe someday just to test boundaries. Ya gotta test boundaries; it’s fun).

“What about Suzy,” I asked very nicely. They say when you ask nicely for things, you’re more likely to get them. And whudduya know? It worked.

“I like Suzy,” was Mary’s answer. “Do you like Suzy,” she asked the dog, who responded by wagging her tail but she does that literally every single time attention is directed at her in any form. Her tail starts wagging if your eyes drift toward her (totally different from the reaction I have when Mary casts certain glances in my direction because reasons). “She’s ecstatic,” Mary pronounced. True story.

“Settled,” asked Nana, mediator extraordinaire (but good thing we’re not paying her cuz maybe more ordinaire than extraordinaire, which is not a knock on her so much as Mary’s and my positions were closer together than we let on).

“Suzy,” Mary enunciated to the dog whose name is now Suzywhich I came up with, further solidifying that she’s really my dog first and loves me most. I will tell her when she’s old enough to understand these things.

Separate note, I am starting to get a little [insert emotion that’s not jealousy here] about how much time Suzy is occupying Mary’s lap. That lap is mine. Mine! Not that I’m possessive or jealous or anything. Really. Especially of a dog. Um, really.

“So Suzy is slow to house train,” Nana asked. “What have you tried? I was always able to potty train our dogs pretty quick.”

O, poor Nana didn’t know just how big a can of cats she opened with that offer to be helpful. I took it upon myself to tell her. “She ishouse trained. Mary just doesn’t wanna admit it cuz she won’t lemme out of her stupid diapers.”

“She is not,” was Mary’s rejoinder. Weak, Mary. So weak, so unlike you.

“She hasn’t had an accident in two days!” I wasn’t shouting. I was just being exclamatory. True story.

“Did you call them Mary’s diapers,” Nana asked. I think she was confused, which is Mary’s fault. All this time, Mary has led Nana astray about who diapers I’ve been periodically wearing against my will.

“They’re not mine. They’re hers. I just wear them cuz she makes me.”

“O … kay.” I detected some doubt in Nana’s tone. Hmm. Not sure what she could be confused about or what she may have been getting at.

“I just think we she should be safe. I don’t want any relapses.”

“She won’t.”

“I mean you not letting her out often enough.”

“I won’t, and I didn’t in the first place. She just wasn’t ready.”

I didn’t want to do what I did next. I didn’t even plan on doing it. I hadn’t ever even previously thought of doing it. But right then, sitting in that damn diaper that Mary owns listening to her bull plop reasoning she could barely get out with a smirk plastered to her face, I decided to tattle. Except, and this is a question for the philosophy majors out there reading my very private diary (still unemployed, huh?), is it still tattling if you totally make it up? Like, can you lie and tattle? Or is that just framing someone? Anyhoo, I just couldn’t help myself. After all, I’m allegedly looney and therefore blameless. Really.

“Mary’s only been changing me once a day.”

In my right ear, I heard a stunned scoff.

In my left ear, I heard a woman of a certain age and then some go, “Mary Taylor, how many times have we talked about this? You can’t put her in diapers and then just let her sit in it. You think not putting the dog out enough is bad, well, what the heck are you thinking when it comes to her bottom? What if she gets a rash? I am disappointed in you. You need to take better care of her. If you were my daughter, I’d spank you like you spank Daffy right here in this yard, and then I’d put your butt in a diaper for a whole day and see how you like it, and your age and hers wouldn’t even slow me down. Now, you get up out of that chair and go change her pants right this instant.”

Woah. What a telling off. Wasn’t really expecting that. That was, um, some reaction. So fun (if super embarrassing, a fair price to pay). Maybe too fun. Maybe, and tell me if I’m crazy, only fun for me, judging by, o, say, the glare Nana was giving Mary and the glare Mary was giving me. Ruh roh, Suzy.

“Daphne Ann,” this red-faced woman I married whose is usually more of a sultry cream color said to me like she wasn’t very happy with my choices or something. Not sure why she wouldn’t be. Teehee. Really?

“Don’t you get cross with her for telling me,” Nana shot back at Mary. Eep.

“Mae, I have been changing Daffy whenever she needs it, more like 5 or 6 times a day, and those diapers can hold way more than that comfortably. The only problem here is Daffy telling lies cuz she thinks it’s funny.”

To my credit, I only thought it was funny when I thought to do it, when I did it, and for a very brief moment right after. As soon as that moment passed, I didn’t think it was funny at all … maybe just a little.

“Daphne,” Nana said as she turned her eyes toward me.

Well, that would be my cue to exit. I’m not one to tell two lies in a row. “I’m gonna go let the dog out,” I said as we sat on Nana’s patio and enjoyed the out of doors. “In, actually. The heat’s not good for her.”

“I got a better idea,” Mary said like she’s ever had an idea better than one of mine. I mean, she has and often does cuz she’s, like, brilliant and stuff and I love her very much, but why would I even bring that up right now. I’m sposed to be on my side.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Just, ya know, as a reminder before she did anything she couldn’t take back.

“You want out of diapers, fine,” Mary said as she set Suzy down and stood herself up. My goodness but she’s tall and strong and stuff, not that I was intimidated. Never have been, in fact, except some of the times. And as for what she just asked, the answer was a resounding yes but not just right then what with not wanting to be naked in the neighbor’s yard. I’m very conscientious like that, very community minded and stuff … and things too.

“You’ll get out of diapers just as soon as we get home and I bare your little bottom,” Mary pronounced as she helped me to my feet by way of taking me by the arm like I was in trouble or something. IDK what I might’ve done to get in trouble. Really.

She marched me to the wall, which is to say the siding on Nana’s house, and cuz Mary’s just not very polite, she smacked my butt on the way there and – so not cool even if we were in Nana’s backyard behind a fence which makes it as private as our own very private yard – yanked my shorts down. Like, there was a new experience after all these years. Corner time (vinyl siding time?) with no shorts but yes a diaper in the neighbor’s yard. Very low risk of being seen (if we’re not counting Nana, which I won’t, which just tells you how much my life has changed in a few short years – ugh), but not impossible if the person in the house behind looked out any of their many top-floor windows.

“You’re in timeout until our visit is over. You keep your nose on that wall and your hands at your sides, and I might march you home through the backyard and not go through the front, and don’t you plan on sitting comfortably for a few days.”

“But …” Which she mistakenly took as the signal to smack my butt again and shush me (as though there’s no talking in timeout or something. Is that even legal at the international level?).

So here’s a thing, maybe. Mary gets not so very pleased with me when I suggest she do something she normally associates with submission, not unheard of for a domme and the reason why I don’t do it cuz she gets all I’m-gonna-assert-my-authority and my butt plays a prominent role in that assertion. What canvas is to paints and boneless skinless chicken breast is to chefs, so is my butt to Mary when she gets all assertive and stuff. So maybe since I’m the humiliation bottom and she’s the humiliation top, I could’ve foreseen how she’d react.

Except I couldn’t because I had idea Nana was gonna threaten to spank her and put her in a diaper. Empty threats, but I guess let that be a lesson to me to not do anything that might embarrass the humiliation top I married (other than embarrass her in the I-can’t-believe-how-much-you’re-embarrassing-me-young-lady kind; she likes that. It’s a big hit in our household and many of the public places we’ve patronized over the years). If I’d suggested, let alone threatened, spanking and diapering Mary, I’d get spanked like a left-handed, red-headed, rented step-mule (and I’m only two of those things, but I won’t tell you which and you’ll just hafta guess).

And then Mary sat back down and turned on this really unsettling tone of voice as she said, “I’m so sorry, Mae. Sometimes I don’t know what gets into her,” like she was apologizing for a small child’s public misbehavior. As if! “I can assure you she’s getting quite the bare bottom spanking when I get her home. She’ll be a very sorry little girl. She’ll stop by to apologize tomorrow.”

Nana would never play along with that or countenance such an offense against my adulthood and honor. Mary just doesn’t understand Nana.

“No worries,” Nana told her. What the heccin heck, Nana? Seriously? “We’ve all been there. I can’t tell you how embarrassing mine could sometimes be in front of company.”

She always says that! ‘One of mine.’ Nana never had one of me! Not unless she was ever secretly married to a lesbian into erotic humiliation with an ageplay twist.

“And I’m sorry I flew off the handle like I did. I just care about Daphne very much.”

“I know you do, and I really appreciate everything you do for her. I can tell you right now, if Daffy is gonna make choices like that when she’s over here without me, I may just have to ask you to put her over your knee and redden her little fanny for her.”

Noooooo! I said silently from my timeout.

“She’d need to cross more than a few lines for me to do that, and you know I won’t ever tattle on Daphne …”

Score!

“… unless she really goes above and beyond with her naughtiness. And then I’ll be sure to let you know. Won’t be the first girl I’ve sent home with a note pinned to her sleeve. I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Did Nana just chuckle? Did Nana just heccin chuckle!?!

Hmmph! Hmmph hmmph hmmph! HMMPH!!! 😤😤😤

I am not a little girl! Really!