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Act Your Age - Part 2

(As always, comments and suggestions welcome.

I woke refreshed. My sleep had been filled with dreams of soft scents and billowy cushions. I could not remember a better night's rest. I stretched and rolled onto my back, when I was struck by the sensation of dampness around my bottom. The events of last night began to unfold. The spanking, the soap, wetting on Lesley's diaper covered lap, falling asleep as I nursed at her breast.

I was beginning to worry about how far Lesley was planning to carry this. I had behaved badly with Carol , sure, but this was more than getting even. There was a change in Lesley that I could not explain. These childish punishments were humiliating. Still, I had never felt so close to her. Something about this seemed so ... right. What was going on?

"Good morning, Sleepyhead," Lesley startled me out of my reverie.

"How did my Sweetie sleep."

I blushed, having wet a little in the surprise of Lesley 's intrusion into my thoughts. Lesley sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed my forehead gently. Another more loving kiss was planted on my lips. I embraced her and was caught up in the moment, when I felt her fingers slide inside the waistband of my diaper. I broke the kiss and turned away, hoping I wouldn't cry.

" It 's okay, Sweetheart. That's what diapers are for. Let Mommy help you get that off."

She slid the bedclothes down, exposing me. She unfastened the diaper and smiled. I blushed. There was no denying my enjoyment of her ministrations.

"I think my baby needs a bath. He stinks," she said laughingly. She stood me up and gently pushed me in the direction of the bathroom.

"My, my. Such a red bottom. Are you getting a rash, Sweetness?" she giggled.

I frowned at her. She knew darn well why my bottom was red.

The bath felt great, especially the way she washed me. I nearly had an accident of a different kind as she made sure to get my hidden places good and clean. She threw some of my nephew's tub toys in the water and told me to play while she got some things ready. She warned me not to get any water on the floor.

I sat and looked at the toys for a few minutes wondering what to do. Eventually, I picked up a boat and started pushing it around. I pushed the submarine under the water, sneaking up on the boat and ramming it from underneath. I picked up a cup and started pouring water on top of the boat, trying to sink it. Pretty soon, I was making tidal waves in the tub.

Lesley chose that moment to come back. My last tidal wave sloshed over the side and splashed her shoes. She was not pleased. I looked up at her and gave her a weak smile.

"I think it's time for you to get out," she said, her anger barely under control.

Lesley pulled a towel from the linen press and told me to stand up. She dried me roughly and sent me to the bedroom with a swat on my behind.

There were clothes laid out on the bed. These were my regular clothes, and I breathed a small sigh of relief to know we would be getting back to normal. I moved toward the bed to get dressed. Lesley stopped me abruptly.

"I don't think so. Those clothes are for somebody who's grown up and mature, not for somebody who can't be trusted to take a bath without making a mess. We'll have to find you something more appropriate, won't we?"

" Awww , Lesley . I was just having a little fun."

"So, it's fun making a mess of the bathroom and getting my shoes wet, is it? Let's see how fun you think this is." She grabbed my wrist and headed for her vanity chair. Her other hand snatched the towel from my waist.

"No, pleeeeeease! Not another spanking. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up. I'll be good."

"Oh, you will be good. And you will clean up your mess," she growled.

"But not before I teach you a lesson about minding what Mommy says."

She snatched up her hairbrush and brought it crashing down on my soft and tender backside. Sitting in the water all that time made me especially sensitive. It was only a matter of seconds before I was crying in earnest. When my bottom was blazing red and my cries were no longer intelligible Lesley put down the hairbrush and sent me to the corner.

"Now let's see what fashions the bad little boy will be wearing today." I could hear Lesley rummaging around the room. I didn't dare turn to look.

"I think this will do for now. Come on, little one."

I turned around and she was holding a diaper in one hand and a yellow and white striped top that belonged to her in the other. The top had lap shoulders and looked very sexy on her voluptuous frame. When she put it on me, it did not even come down to the top of the diaper, making me look like an over-grown toddler.

"Now you will get in that bathroom, young man, and you will not just wipe up the mess you made. You will scrub the entire bathroom from top to bottom. You had better do a good job of it too, because you aren't getting any breakfast until I'm satisfied. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lesley ," I said meekly.

"Yes what?"

"Yes ... Mommy."

"Much better. Now get in there and get to work."

I shuffled back to the bathroom, my head hung in shame. What was I thinking? I wasn't, obviously. I looked at the puddles on the floor and sighed at my stupidity. I took the discarded towel Lesley had used to dry me and mopped up the excess water. I filled the sink with hot water and took the tub and tile cleaner from beneath it . For the next hour, I sprayed and scrubbed, sprayed and scrubbed. I made sure every crevice around the toilet was as clean as could be. The way things were going lately, I half expected Lesley to come back with a white glove. I had emptied and wipe out the sink and was looking around to be sure everything sparkled when Lesley came in. She stood with her arms folded and slowly looked about, nodding.

"Acceptable," she said.

"I expect you to keep it this way. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Le ..." I stopped myself, not knowing if things had changed that much.


The fainted trace of a grin formed around Lesley 's mouth.

"Good boy," she said, stepping over to me.

"Now come eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

She took my hand and guided me out of the bathroom, giving me a few pats on the bottom as I passed in front of her. I got down to the table to find it set with a large bowl of oatmeal and a tall glass of milk.

"But Lesley , I don't like oatmeal."

"Now, now, it 's good for you. Boys your age need to keep regular. Be a good boy and sit down."

As I sat down, Lesley picked up the dish towel that was lying on the table and proceed to tie it around my neck.

"What are you doing?" I asked, not a little shocked.

"That's my shirt you're wearing. I want to make sure it stays clean"

I couldn't really argue with her logic. Well, I could, but it didn't seem a very good idea at the moment. I stared down into the bowl of gray goo with the pat of butter melting on top.

"But there's so much," I said looking up at her.

"Don't whine," she said curtly. Then taking a more soothing tone, she suggested, "If you promise to eat it all gone, I'll put some brown sugar on it , how's that?"

"Okay," I sighed, still not thrilled at the prospect. Lesley cleared her throat.

"Uh ...yes, Mommy," I stammered hurriedly.

"Mm hmm," she nodded, going to the cupboard. Lesley returned and sprinkled a little brown sugar in the cereal.

"More please?" I asked, giving her my best puppy dog eyes.

She thought about it for a moment.

"Alright," she conceded and stirred a little more in.

"But that's all."

I would have liked more, but I wasn't going to push my luck. Lesley turned the spoon to me and urged me to eat up. By the time I had eaten half the bowl, I was getting full. It wasn't too bad with the sugar, but I still didn't like it . I was eating slower and slower. When the bowl was two-thirds empty I couldn't make myself take another bite.

Lesley set her coffee down.

"Come, come, come, you promised to eat it all gone."

"I can't. I'm full. ... Is there any more coffee?"

"Not until you finish your breakfast. Now, eat," she said firmly.

I sullenly picked up the spoon again, but I couldn't bear the thought of one more mouthful. I dropped the spoon into the bowl.

"Fine," Lesley huffed. She picked up the spoon in one hand and took my chin in the other. Before I had a chance to ask what she was doing, Lesley shoved the spoon in my mouth. Shocked nearly to the point of panic, I swallowed and coughed. I opened my mouth to speak, only to have it filled with oatmeal again. Lesley 's pace was furious. Between her feeding me faster than I could swallow and my struggling to avoid any more, my face and the dishtowel were soon dotted oatmeal. It was over as quickly as it started. I stared down at the now empty bowl, trying to catch my breath.

"Just look at you," Lesley said with disgust.

" It 's a good thing I put your bib on you. Now drink your milk ... and use two hands. I don't want you making an even bigger mess."

"Can't I have some coffee now? I ..."

Lesley gave me a chilling look. I turned back to the milk. I may have pouted as I picked it up ... with both hands.

"That's a good boy," she said, taking the bowl and spoon away. She rinsed them while I worked on the overly large glass of milk. I didn't dare stop drinking. I set the empty glass down, gasping.

"There we go. All done," Lesley said cheerily. The next thing I knew, Lesley was scrubbing my face vigorously with a damp cloth.

"There. All clean and shiny, with a full tummy, ready to face the new day."

I blushed and considered muttering something. Lesley talked to me as if I were more four than forty. I got up feeling terribly bloated.

"Can I have some coffee now?"

"Grammar, darling," Lesley intoned.

" It 's ' MAY I have some coffee please, Mommy?' Now, you try it ."

Trying not to clench my jaw in anger, I asked again, " MAY I have some coffee now please ... Mommy?"

"Watch your tone with me, young man," she said, wagging a finger at me.

"And no, you may not have a cup of coffee. You've been drinking far too much lately, and it makes you irritable."

Irritable! I'll give you irritable! I thought. I was about to open my mouth when Lesley stuck her fingers inside the diaper. All I could do was stare at her.

"Still dry? Good. Let's see if we can find you dome pants to go with your top."

She turned away, expecting me to follow. I stood there fuming. She had taken a few steps, not even considering the possibility that I wouldn't tag right along. Enough was enough.

"I am NOT a baby," I shouted. I blushed a little, realizing I stamped my foot at the same time, but I determined to hold my ground. Lesley turned, her eyebrow raised. Her gaze traveled up and down my body, stopping briefly at my waist. She glanced over at the dish towel on the table, eyeing the oatmeal stains. My eyes followed hers. I was beginning to weaken.

"Oh, really?" she said, giving me a cold hard stare.

"Who had to be spoon-fed his breakfast this morning? Who was such a messy eater he needed a bid? Who made a mess playing with his toys in the bathtub?"

Lesley came closer and closer with each question.

"But ... but ... but ..." I wasn't holding so firm.

"And who," she asked standing fight of me, "woke up with wet pampers this morning, hmm?"

"But you made me wear them," I whined.

"I didn't make you wet them, did I?"

"No. But ..."

"And why did I make you wear them?"

My resolve was almost gone now.

"Be ... because I ... wet myself," I finally whispered, my head hanging down.

"That's right. And now I think you need a time out to think about this little outburst." She took my hand and dragged me to the corner of the living room.

"You can just stand there for the next hour and think about whether that little tantrum was worth it . And don't you dare take you nose out of that corner."

Lesley gave a sharp swat to my padded bottom and left me to my thoughts. There were certainly enough of them. I was mad that she was treating me like a child. On the other hand, I had been acting like one. At least, it could look that way. But how could I be expected to act grown up when I am running around in a diaper? And the spankings! I hadn't been spanked since I was ten. Now I was beginning to lose count. Yet I couldn't say that I didn't deserve them.

These thoughts and more bounced around in my head, battling it out for supremacy. I understood what it was to be of two minds. The clock slowly ticked. Another thought entered my head. Not so much a thought, really, as a feeling. I had been up for the better part of two hours now, and I had that big glass of milk. That feeling pressed itself closer and closer to the front of my thoughts as my bladder was sending signals of needing relief. I was going to have to do something about it soon.

"Uh ... Lesl ... Mommy?" I said tentatively. I knew she was in the room, I could hear the rustling of her newspaper as she turned the pages.

"Aren't you supposed to be thinking?"

"I ... uh ... have to go to the bathroom."

"Do you now? And you said you aren't a baby. Surely a big boy like you can hold it for one little hour. I think you should stay there and show me what a big boy you are."

I let my head droop into the corner. There wasn't going to be any convincing her soon. I continued to contemplate what had happened over the last couple of days. How had things gotten to this point? Was my behavior that much worse than usual? It didn't seem so to me. Lesley had always been a force of nature, but what had turned her from my beautiful sexy wife into a stern but loving mother? I had to admit that she was loving ... when she wasn't punishing me. It felt good. More than that, it felt right somehow. I had never felt closer to Lesley than last night when she held me in her arms nursing me to sleep. This was getting very weird.

The urgency in my bladder continued to grow, making it difficult to come to grips with these strange feelings. I felt very full, and I had to concentrate on holding it back. Clamping down on one particularly bad spasm, I broke wind. I realized that I was soon going to have another problem.

"Mommy? ... I have to go ... really bad," I said, all but clenching my teeth.

"Not yet, Honey. Five more minutes. You can make it . You're a big boy. You said so yourself." Her voice was sympathetic but resolute.

"But Mommy ..." I pleaded.

"Five more minutes." That was the end of that. Lesley was bound and determined that the punishment would be carried through for the whole hour. I knew from her tome that arguing would only make matters worse.

I concentrated on proving I wasn't a baby. Five more minutes. Five more minutes. It 's not that long. You can make it . It 's no time at all. No problem.

But it was a problem. The contractions in my bladder were coming closer and stronger. I was farting so frequently I was starting to sound like an engine, and gas wasn't the only exhaust that would be coming out the tailpipe soon. Lesley must be using the same clock they use for football games , because that last five minutes had to have lasted an hour in themselves. By the end, I wasn't even pretending not to do the peepee dance.

"Alright, little man. I hope you thought hard about the way you were acting. I don't want anymore tantrums out of you. You won't be very happy if I see one again. Now let's go upstairs and take your diaper off so you can go potty."

I would have run for the bathroom, but each step was agony. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the worst spasm yet sent me to my knees. Putting all my effort in to staunching the flow, I forgot about my other problem. Along with the fart a poop slipped out. Flabbergasted, I quickly shut down the back door. My bladder took advantage of my momentary distraction to seek relief. And relief it got. There was no stopping it now. I could only kneel there in disbelief.

As the flood became a trickle, I became aware of Lesley by my side. Mortified, I looked up at her. She looked down at me with a look that was part sympathy, part disappointment, and part I-told-you-so. I was devastated. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"I am a baby," I wailed.

Lesley knelt down beside me.

"I know, Baby. It 's okay. It 's okay. Mommy will take care of you."

Lesley rubbed my back, as I sobbed. She cooed soothing things in my ear, and I was soon settled down enough to listen to her.

"Okay, Honey. Let's get you upstairs and out of that wet diaper. I think you better crawl, I'm afraid of what might happen if you stand up."

I didn't think. I just started crawling up the stairs. The pendulous weight between my legs reminded me of my shame. I dripped tears all the way to the bathroom. I was defeated. I was a baby, a bad baby. I deserved to be treated like this.

Lesley directed me to get in the tub. I stood up mechanically and stepped in, feeling even more the weight of the sodden diaper and the load it bore. I stood motionless, as Lesley released the top tapes. The diaper slid off my hips and came to rest between my ankles with a sickening plop. Lesley gasped. I thought I detected a giggle, as she spied the present I left in the seat. I was too numb to care. I stood there and wept.

Lesley hugged me gently and murmured reassurances.

" It 's alright, Sweetie. All babies wet and make poopies in their diapers. That's what they're there for. It 's okay."

She lifted my feet out of the diaper, one at a time. She dumped the poop in the toilet and discarded the soggy garment. She had me hold the shirt out of the way while washed me gently, all the time assuring me that Mommy would make it all better.

When I was clean again, Lesley guided me to the bedroom and onto the bed. Still stunned, I lay still as she placed a fresh diaper beneath me. She rubbed pink lotion into my skin , flowed by sweet-smelling baby powder. She hummed something familiar by unrecognized, and she soon had the diaper taped securely around my middle.

Lesley gently instructed me to get under the covers, and she would be right back. I meekly complied. I was mentally exhausted. Lesley returned and lay down next to me. I curled up into her arms.

"You just take a nap, Sweetheart. You've had a busy morning."

I was happy to obey. I drifted off, wondering where she got the baby bottle that slipped between my lips.

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