Just a bratty girl...
Smutty, humiliating, blushy... it's all here. Pet play, age play, ABDL, and punishments are just a few of my kinks -- basically anything that makes me blush. All of this is fantasy. My kinks are not my politics. I believe in women's rights, trans rights, queer rights. Adults only. All my characters are adults.
Cherry and the Puppy - Part 4
This instalment is dedicated to the lovely anon who made me laugh really hard when they sent a message that said, "This is incredibly selfish and of course I hope your elbow gets better soon but a little bit of me hopes that because I'm desperate to read the next part of Cherry and the Puppy."
Anon, one-handed typing is driving me CRAZY, but you made me laugh <3
(Part one)
(Part two)
*
“And if you’s not gonna wet your diapee, I’ll do it.”
Cherry panics and shoves at him, but he’s much bigger and stronger than her and she can’t move him an inch. He pushes her away easily, hands firm on her shoulders until her back is pressed against the floor. He nods, satisfied, then turns around, straddling her waist and facing her feet.
He tucks his thing down the front of her diaper. Cherry presses her hands against his back and pushes as hard as she can, but he doesn’t even appear to notice. She wants to call for Daddy, but she doesn’t want him to see her like this, overpowered and overwhelmed.
“Better,” the puppy says. He manages to make even that sound babyish: bwetta.
For a moment, Cherry thinks—hopes—that will be it. That he will have made his point, established himself in this sick little game of dominance or whatever he’s playing. The moment hangs between them, stretching on forever—
And then, wetness floods Cherry’s diaper.
The puppy’s wee is hot on her skin, filling her diaper and making the padding swell and press against her, fully soaked. Cherry’s sat in her share of wet diapers—Daddy refuses to change her or let her into big girl panties unless she’s used her diaper—but this feels so dirty. She feels tears burning her eyes and she smacks her hands futilely against the puppy’s back.
The puppy wriggles contentedly on top of her as he finishes. “Nice an’ wet,” he says happily. “Silly wittle girl, not wetting her diapee.”
He slides off her, rolling onto the floor and getting onto all fours. He plunks his bum down between his heels and looks at Cherry with a playful little grin, like he has no idea what she might be crying about. “Pwaytime?”
Cherry sits up, rubbing her eyes with her fist, right as Daddy and Elizabeth walk into the room. Elizabeth pats her puppy’s head, scratching her nails through his hair. “Have you been a good boy?” she asks.
He nips at her hand playfully and sways his bum back and forth like he’s wagging his tail. “Make fwends,” he says.
Daddy walks over to Cherry and bends down to kiss her forehead. “Are you making friends?” he asks. He kisses the tip of his finger, then presses it to Cherry’s nose. “Maybe I should get you a puppy of your own,” he muses, and Cherry shakes her head frantically, imagining having this in her house all the time, climbing all over her, licking her face, wetting her diapers for her.
Her face burns in humiliation and Daddy notices. “What’s wrong?” he says. He reaches down to squeeze the front of her diaper and clicks his tongue. “Did you have an accident?” he asks. It’s a rhetorical question, but Cherry answers anyway.
“No,” she says, and Daddy’s trying to tell her off for lying, trying to tell her that it’s okay, she’s just a little girl, little girls need diapers, but she isn’t listening to a word of it. “It was him,” she says, pointing. “He put his—his thing into my diapee—my diaper, and he used it, and it was his fault, it wasn’t me.”
The puppy is pouting at her and both grown-ups look startled at her outburst. “Okay, sweetie,” Daddy says. He sits on the couch and lifts her onto his lap. “The puppy’s very sorry, aren’t you, puppy?”
The puppy nods. He doesn’t look sorry, but Daddy doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps bouncing Cherry gently on his knee; wet padding squishes under her and she hides her face in Daddy’s neck so she doesn’t have to look at Elizabeth and the puppy any longer.
“The puppy wasn’t being bad,” Daddy continues. He squeezes Cherry’s padded bum. “He probably just didn’t want to make a mess on the floor.”
“It’s s’posed to be wet,” the puppy mumbles. Cherry peeks at him; Elizabeth is standing beside him and he has his head resting against her thigh. He’s pouting belligerently. “I helped.”
Elizabeth pets his head. “I know you did, baby.”
“Well,” Daddy says. “You’re now quite a wet little girl, aren’t you?”
Usually Cherry would deny it, but right now, she’s desperate to get out of the puddle she’s sitting in. She nods rapidly.
“But,” Daddy says, “you know the rules. You only get a change when you wet your diaper.” He kisses the tip of Cherry’s nose. “No rush, sweetie,” he says. “You keep playing with the puppy and have an accident whenever you’re ready.”