Godmother.1
It was a nice surprise to hear from Julie as it was a while since we had spoken but by the end of the conversation I wish I had not picked up the phone. She is my best friend, I have known her since I was 5 years old, all through school, college, university and the five years since then. We had always got on brilliantly even when she had a fling with one of our tutors and ended up pregnant. Unfortunately that fling had meant the birth of her son David and he was the reason we didn’t see much of each other now. I detest the boy, he is a horrible scheming little brat of six years old, ill disciplined, ill mannered and spoilt. Since Julie knows pretty well how I feel I tend to stay away except for the occasional visit during school time, as in his mummies eyes he can do no wrong. It was an even greater surprise to me that Julie had phoned to ask if I would look after David for a few weeks while she went into hospital. I had been persuaded to be Godparent to him a few years earlier when he was still a reasonably pleasant toddler and since Julie had no one else to ask I was forced to agree. I live alone and work from home so this would not cause me too many problems but I needed advise on caring for him because I certainly wasn’t going to let him behave the way he did when I had visited.
I lifted the phone again and called my mother. She had brought up my younger brother and I, on her own, in a very strict fashion so she would be an ideal person to advise. We arranged to meet and discuss it that afternoon and we spent the next few days planning and preparing.
I eventually managed to get away from Julie’s house about 4pm and started the journey home. My ears were burning from the long list of instructions regarding the care of the brat including everything from cleaning his teeth to cleaning his bottom. Eventually I got him strapped in the car seat and underway for the 3 hour journey to my house. We had gone about an hour and a half when I decided to stop at the services for a break, something to drink and of course the toilet. I made David hold my hand as we walked to the toilet. This was my first problem, do I let him go on his own in the gents or with me in the ladies? I decided on the ladies, which he didn’t like so he started to stamp his feet. Since I had a good grip on him he followed me in anyway but once inside I started to direct him into a cubicle, before I had chance to stop him he had slammed the door and locked me out. I was furious, mostly because I had allowed him to catch me out, I decided to use the cubicle next door before confronting him but in the back of my mind I knew this was the first challenge between us, the one I had been looking for. When I was finished, I used a coin to turn the lock on the cubicle and pushed the door open, he was sitting on the toilet lid with his pants up. As soon as he caught my eye he knew he was in trouble, he had not expected me to get him out so easily, I grasped his hand and marched him out of the toilets without speaking. We stopped at Burger King where I bought two extra large diet cokes. Once he was strapped into the car seat I passed him a coke expecting his greed to get the better of him.
We had only travelled about 40 minutes before he began to fidget. I had not heard him use the toilet whilst in the cubicle and since then he had drunk most of the coke. As he caught my eye in the mirror I asked if he was all right, as I expected he said he needed to go to the toilet. I informed him that we had only just been and I could not stop on the motorway, he would have to wait, he was about to argue when he remembered why he still needed to go and kept quiet. As we approached my home I could see the desperation on his face, I warned him that he had better not wet on my car seat or there would be big trouble and somehow he knew I meant it. We pulled into the driveway and I released him from the car seat. He stood holding his crotch with his legs crossed as I slowly looked through my bag and found my keys. As I fumbled at the lock I heard the, much expected, hissing sound as he wet his pants on the doorstep, his hands and the front of his trousers were soaked. I made him stand still until he had finished and his pee ran from his sandals as I took in his suitcase and locked the car.
When I had finished I took his hand again and marched him straight up the stairs and into the bedroom I had prepared for him. I pulled off his shoes, wet trousers and underpants to expose his lower half, sat on the bed beside him and pulled him over my knee, bottom up, his bottom was soaking wet from his pee. I felt his pee splash against my hand as I started to smack his bottom with full strokes of my hand, by the time the second stroke had arrived he was screaming with pain and shock since he had never been smacked before.
After ten good smacks I turned him back onto the bed, lifted him to my waist and carried him to the bathroom. In the room I had placed a set of drawers with a large work surface, I had padded the surface to make it more comfortable so I placed him on it. He continued to wail as I quickly checked through the items I had purchased from the chemists in the last few days. There were:
Satisfied that everything was readily available, I picked up a baby wipe and started to clean his bottom and genitals, his bottom was very red from the spanking I had given him. Once I had cleaned him of pee I lifted him by his ankles and placed a nappy I had folded earlier under him. His sobs halted for a few moments as he felt the soft cloth touched his bottom but soon continued. As I sprinkled him with the sweet smelling powder my mind drifted back to the last time I had put a nappy on my brother. It was the night before his tenth birthday. My mother had decided that when he was ten it was not acceptable for him to wear them, so I made an extra fuss of him as I put one on him that night. Once I had powdered David thoroughly I pulled up the front of the nappy and started to bring one side around to join it. This was the point that he realised what I was doing and decided to object but the raising of my hand was enough to quell his objection. I pinned the nappy on each side and selected a pair of plastic pants from the pile. Just as my mother had taught me years before I placed one hand through each leg hole and gripped his feet allowing the pants to pull over his ankles and then slid them down his legs and over his nappy. I ran my finger around the elastic gather at waist and legs to check he was tucked in and patted his bottom gently. Finally I reached into the top drawer of the unit and pulled out a cute little red dummy. I reached up and pulled his thumb from his mouth and his lips automatically closed around the dummy as I offered it to them.
I lifted David from the table and placed him on my hip again, carried him downstairs and placed him on the floor in front of the fire. In the kitchen I prepared tea and biscuits for my self and a bottle for David. Whilst the kettle was boiling I walked through, removed his dummy and offered the bottle to his lips. Both his hands came up to hold it automatically and he started to suck greedily on it as he sobbed. I finished making my tea and sat on the couch, feeling very satisfied with what I had achieved already. I didn’t have a troublesome child any longer, now it was a cute baby boy. As I looked at him I noticed his face light up with a smile as a wet patch appeared in his plastic pants. Just as I had seen my ten year old brothers face light up so many times when he experienced the joy of soaking his nappy while sucking on his bottle, knowing that he would get a fresh nappy and bottle before bedtime.