“Boy?”, I thought to myself with affronted dignity, “…just who the hell is she calling boy? I may have the body of a child, but that doesn’t mean she can treat me like one. She’s my wife, not my mother!”
I started to push down the pants despite my wife’s entreaties and she said, “Honey, I’m afraid I must insist! I’m the one who has to wash the sheets if you wet the bed. If you don’t let go of those pants this instant, I’m going to get angry.”
She pulled my hands away from the pants and looked me in the eye. “Be good and leave the pants alone or I’m going to spank!”, she said playfully.
I began to push down the pants immediately in a demonstration of my independence. She pulled my hands away again and lightly swatted me in fun on my bottom.
I exploded in anger. I reached up with my hand and struck her across the face as hard as I could. She looked at me with a frozen expression of shock upon her face before that realization of what I had just done sunk in. I had never hit her in my life! An angry snarl escaped her lips as she grabbed me by the arms and hauled me to the easy chair and over her lap. She was livid! She pulled my pants down to my knees and began hitting me over and over on my bottom. What had started out as a game had turned into a full fledged spanking!
I yelled and screamed my rage, but she was unfazed by my protestations. She was determined to teach me a lesson! The skin on my bottom became red and inflamed with the repeated blows on my behind. I struggled in an effort to break free, but she held me too tightly for me to get away. As the sensory nerves in my skin were stimulated into continuous firing, the pain became more intense. I wailed in torment at the hideous pain. My sensorium overloaded and all I could see, hear and feel was the pain raining down on me. The world turned blood red before my eyes. My wails became pleas for mercy. I begged her to set me free. She beat on, heedless of my blubbered apologies. The blood roared in my ears and I could feel my bottom throb with every heartbeat. I whimpered in an agony of shame and humiliation.
As suddenly as she had started she stopped and demanded, “Are you going to be a good boy? Are you going to wear those pants like I told you to?”
I sobbed in defeat and she repeated, “Did you hear me? Are you going to wear those pants?”
I nodded my head vigorously. She picked me up by the armpits and set me down on my feet, then pulled the training pants up over my scarlet bottom. She took me by the hand and said, “Come on, Honey. Mommy’s going to put a cold washcloth on your face and do something about those puffy eyes of yours. Then we’re going to get dinner.”
I looked up at the dominant giant who had been my wife and said, “Mommy?! Pauline you’re my wife, not my Mommy!”
As she dragged me to the bathroom, she replied grimly between her teeth, “Not anymore! I’m not about to play wife to a bed-wetting, tantrum-throwing, little boy. If you’re going to act like a child, then fine, I’ll treat you like a child. From now on, I’m your mommy. Do you understand me?”
I remained silent, hoping that no answer was sufficient to make my point. She stopped and knelt in front of me and demanded, “I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BABY?!”
I nodded meekly in the presence of the towering female claiming to be my mommy. She said, “Good! Then you won’t mind if I carry you to the bathroom, you’re too small to keep up with me!”
She picked me up in her arms and carried me to the bathroom on her hip. I winced as she scrubbed my face clean of tears with the washcloth and roughly dried it with a towel. When she finished I asked, “What are we having for dinner?”
She gave my face a last brush with the towel and said mildly, “I think you meant to say, ‘What are we having for dinner, Mommy?’, didn’t you?”
I hung my head and said in a barely audible voice, “mommy”.
She looked at me with fire in her eyes and said, “What did you say, baby? I didn’t hear you.”
I stared down at the floor and said at a slightly higher volume, “What are we having for dinner, Mommy?”
She smiled in triumph and said, “Hamburgers. You like hamburgers. Don’t you, Baby? Well? Don’t you?”
I nodded my agreement. “Good,” she said, “You can sit on the bed while Mommy gets dressed.”
“Get dressed?”, I said in panic, “I can’t go out like this! Look at me! Everyone will think I’m a baby!”
Pauline grinned evilly and said, “But that IS the point. You are a baby! And you’ll do exactly as Mommy says or you’re going to get another spanking. Is that clear?”
I hung my head to my chest and said, “Yes, Mommy.”