Doug saw a smile spread across Emily's face as she walked over to meet him at the customer service desk. He wondered what she had in mind for today. It didn't matter. He'd long since decided that he wouldn't protest a thing she did today. He'd tried being good, and the outcome had been disappointing enough as to dissuade him from attempting that again. He hadn't even *wanted* to be good in the first place, for goodness sake. So today, he'd go with the flow, and just enjoy it. The result had to be better than last week.

"Hi, Doug!" she said. "I hope you're in a more...cooperative mood today." She wore the confident expression of a young woman who knew that she could get whatever she wanted. She was about to say something else, but Mrs. Johnson caught sight of Doug and interrupted.

"Well, hello, little Doug. Are you going to be a good boy today?"

"Yes, ma'am," Doug said sincerely.

"Good. Did you remember a changing pad this week, just in case?"

"Yes, ma'am," Doug answered, holding forward his lovely pink diaper bag, out of which peeked a vinyl changing pad. He'd given up and just decided to bring the whole bag. It wasn't any more embarrassing than carrying around a clean diaper.

"Excellent. That should be more comfortable for you than the cold cement. And what a pretty bag for a little boy," she cooed, and Doug felt himself turning red. "Alright, you two can get to shopping. Just check in before you leave. Emily, let me know if you need the stockroom key again."

"Okay, Mom," Emily said. She and Doug, as usual, headed toward the produce section. "Mom told me about your special groceries last week," she said with a smirk. "Were they good?"

Doug shook his head. "No," he said with a definite air of resentment. It was mostly her fault.

"No, what?" Emily prompted with a smile. She loved this.

Doug stared at her for a second, confused. Then he understood. "No, ma'am," he mumbled gruffly. She didn't deserve the full treatment.

Emily, however, believed that she did. She grabbed his arm. "Hey. You be respectful to me, young man. I'm just dying to get more practice in that back room. Now answer my question again."

Doug turned toward his pretty, young, and tormenting babysitter. He was embarrassed to have to obey her every whim, but he was trapped and he knew it. "No, ma'am, I didn't enjoy my food this week." He paused, then decided to confront her. "Why'd you do that to me, anyway?"

She snorted. "You shouldn't question me. I'm the babysitter, and that's my job. Sometimes babies need spankings."

"I'm not a baby," he objected, though he could have guessed her response even before she said it.

"Oh, no," she replied sarcastically. "You just wet your pants, wear diapers, eat baby food, and have a babysitter. But you're not a baby. What would *you* call yourself?"

Doug shook his head, and turned to continue shopping. He couldn't explain his situation rationally. He didn't know what he'd call it, anyway, other than absurd.

"That's what I thought," she said. A silent moment was followed by a chuckle. "Did you like the asparagus?"

Doug scowled at her. "No, ma'am."

"Then maybe you'll be a good boy and do what I tell you today." Her expression lightened. "And, hey, don't worry. It'll be fun!"

That was likely to be true, Doug admitted to himself. He started to get nervous as they approached the back hallway.

"Well," she said. "Let's go check you out!" She reached out a hand for Doug, who rather reluctantly took it and followed. He tried to take deep breaths and relax, but he was already extremely anxious, and could feel a raging erection form within his diaper. They went to the hallway, where Doug obediently pulled down his pants, as he had in previous weeks. Emily knelt before him to begin her "examination." She closed her eyes and started stroking the front of his diaper, this time dispensing with the charade of "checking" the back of his diaper. He could barely feel her touch through the thick disposable material, but what he could feel excited him even more. It built and built as she continued stroking him through the plastic and padding. He was breathing heavily and was almost near climax by the time Emily said,

"Oh, I definitely need to look inside today. Any objections?" She looked up at him with a coy, questioning glance.

"No, ma'am," Doug said quietly. He stared ahead, back toward where the hallway led to the rest of the store. Because they were beyond a turn in the hall, he couldn't see the store from where they were, but he wondered what would happen if somebody walked in on them. Employees had to come back here, Doug thought. But Emily did not seem to be concerned, and perhaps she knew the store better than he. Doug, at any rate, could hardly do anything about it. He, too, closed his eyes so he wouldn't think about it.

Emily carefully pulled one tape loose, then the other, then slowly lowered the front of Doug's diaper to reveal his hairless groin and genitalia. His erection, freed from its confines, sprung up energetically and surprised Emily.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, then started laughing. "Oh, so that's how you feel! I can't believe you put up such a fuss last week." She giggled. "But it actually doesn't matter, you know. I'm the babysitter, and we'll do whatever I want to do." Doug opened his eyes briefly and nearly fainted when he saw Emily actually lick her lips. "And what I want to do...is see what happens when I do this..."

With that she reached out with one hand and stroked Doug's penis. He closed his eyes again. It felt so good to be touched. He moaned quietly; it had been so long. Emily giggled softly as she heard it. "See? I told you it'd be fun. You just have to be a good little baby and do whatever I say..."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," a stern voice boomed from behind Emily. Doug snapped open his eyes to see an angry Mrs. Johnson towering over the kneeling Emily, who shrieked and lost her balance, falling backward onto the floor at her mother's feet.

"I...I...I...was just...um...well, I..." Emily stuttered.

Doug awkwardly covered himself with his diaper, retaping it as best he could over a rapidly disappearing erection. Oh, boy, he thought. This was going to be bad. What would happen to him now? How could he ever explain this? He took a deep breath. Two Sundays in a row...

"I can *see* what you were just doing, young lady. And last time I checked that was not on the list of babysitting duties!" Doug let out his breath slowly. Wait a minute, he thought. She seems to be pissed off at Emily. That was strange.

Emily, too, realized where the anger seemed to be directed, and her eyes widened in fear. "It wasn't me, Mom, I swear. He wanted to do it. He made me! He's a horrible little baby!" she said. Doug's heart sank at this: of course he would get blamed. It didn't matter who was at fault, because he would never be believed? He had absolutely no credibility.

"Really, Emily. Doug, whom you were babysitting, made you, his babysitter, do that? Emily, don't embarrass yourself. I heard the whole thing. I know *exactly* what you were doing."

As that information sank in, Doug saw Emily's face drain of all color. Fear grew in her eyes. It began to dawn on Doug that Emily's ploy to blame him had not worked, and that she was still on the hot seat. Could he be spared today? He wanted to clarify this, to ask whether he was in trouble, too, but one look at Mrs. Johnson's fearsome expression convinced him to lie low. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze.

"Let me tell you something, young lady. Being in charge of a baby, even *this* kind of baby, is a huge responsibility. Because in this relationship his judgment counts for nothing, and yours counts for everything. You have think for both of you, and he is forced to trust that you'll do what's right. Sometimes that might mean a spanking for him. But it *never* means sex with him, do you understand? Never. Emily Johnson, breaking a child's trust is the worst thing you could ever possibly do. And by taking advantage of his helplessness, that's exactly what you have done."

Mrs. Johnson was pacing now, obviously working herself up into a frightful rage. Emily was watching, and was clearly scared to death. "I'm sorry, Mommy," she said in a small voice that struck Doug as being very different from her normal tone. Now she sounded like a child.

"Well, that's great, Emily. That helps him a lot now," Mrs. Johnson said sarcastically. "I was trying to use Doug last week in a way that would benefit Doug and be fun for us as well. But that form of teaching doesn't seem to sink in very well for you, does it? I guess you're not mature enough to appreciate it, are you?" She stopped pacing and stared at Emily.

"No, ma'am," Emily said quietly. She'd already guessed how this would end, having experienced this type of situation many times throughout her childhood. Doug, however, had no idea where this was headed. He did recognize Emily's attempt to express regret and obedience in the face of a mother's wrath, since he tried that same tact with Mrs. Warren. He watched the proceedings nervously, still unsure of his own fate.

"I guess we'll have to go back to our old way of teaching you, won't we? It sure worked for all those years. I don't know why I ever abandoned it. I don't care if your dates *knew* that's why you had to be home on time; it was still damned effective. It's the only thing that ever worked for you, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Emily hung her head. Doug's curiosity grew. Could they be talking about what he thought they were talking about?

He'd wondered about this mother-daughter relationship before. Some of their comments seemed to have suggested Emily having been spanked in the past, but he'd assumed it had been ancient history, the normal and uncommon early childhood punishment. This exchange implied more, much more, as if spanking were a regular part of Emily's teenage years as well. No wonder Emily was so interested in it today.

But he'd have time to think about that later. Right now, Mrs. Johnson was pulling out her keys. She found the one she was looking for, and crisply opened the stockroom door behind them. With a backward glance, she said, "Come on, you two."

Doug's heart pounded. Both of them? Was he, despite his clear innocence, going to receive a spanking today as well? He watched Emily get up and trudge into the darkness of the room beyond. Doug followed her, shuffling towards the door, his pants still down around his ankles. He dared not pull them up until he was told.

But Mrs. Johnson stopped him before he went in. "You can pull up your pants, Doug. You're just a victim today, not a criminal, so you won't be punished. But I would like you to see that even big kids get spanked if they need it, so I want you to watch."

Something small changed inside Doug at that moment. Up until now, everything he had experienced had been directed, somewhat maliciously, at him. If there was a dispute, he was wrong. If anyone was angry, it was at him. It had seemed that the whole world existed simply to humiliate and punish him. He had been alone. And up until three minutes ago, today seemed to continue in that mold, placing him in a no-win situation where anything he did was punishable.

But now he felt a little like he thought Moses must have as that ocean split in half to let him through. He was saved. Through an act of an all- powerful deity (in this case, Mrs. Johnson) his fate had been reversed today, and he didn't know how to feel. Two feelings, though, prevailed over others. One was that he was neither the least fortunate human on the planet anymore nor alone in his misery. Here, right before his eyes, was another near-adult being treated like a child. His spirits were boosted by the company, and this heartening realization added to his elation at having avoided a spanking, so that he found himself nearly gleeful as he pulled up and rebuckled his pants over his diaper.

But simultaneously, his heart went out to Emily, for he knew the fear and unhappiness that she was feeling at this moment. As much as he resented her abuse of him, he wouldn't wish his experiences on anyone. He would even have tried to help her, but he knew that he was powerless to do so. Pleading for mercy for Emily would probably lead to a spanking for him as well, and that wouldn't make anybody's day better.

Mrs. Johnson waited patiently for him to finish getting dressed, watching as he carefully adjusted his diaper so that it would be visible to other shoppers when they returned to the store. She followed him into the stockroom, flipping on the lights and letting the door close behind her.

She strode purposefully to the chair by the wall, the same chair that Emily had sat in one week ago, and pulled it out from the wall before stiffly seating herself in it. Emily lingered several feet away, eyes downcast, sniffling quietly. Doug stared at her, noticing that she, like him, wore jeans, and wondering if, like him, she would have to pull them down. Against his will, an erection began forming at this thought.

"Let's go, young lady. You should know the drill," Mrs. Johnson said sharply to her daughter. "Get those jeans down."

Doug stood transfixed at the image of his tormentor unbuttoning and lowering her pants to her ankles. She turned away from him, and an occasional shy glance toward Doug indicated her embarrassment about this situation. Doug saw her adjust her pink flowered underpants self- consciously.

Mrs. Johnson saw this, too. "Being embarrassed should be the least of your worries, little girl. He's just a baby, remember? He doesn't care how you look. And anyway, as interested as you were in seeing him, don't you think he's earned reciprocity? Pull those underpants down immediately."

"But Mom..." Emily whined.

"But, nothing!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, rising in a surprisingly fluid motion, reaching over and grabbing Emily's elbow, swinging her around and swatting her forcefully on her bottom through her panties. "Don't try any backtalk today, little girl. I'm not in the mood."

"Yes, ma'am," Emily said, her voice trembling from embarrassment, pain, and probably some angry frustration. She was too old to be treated like this. After another shy glance toward Doug she slipped her fingers inside her waistband and eased her panties down her legs. Doug again stared, and he couldn't help but admire her athletic buttocks and legs. It was a great view of what was soon to be a very red and sore rear end. Emily stood awkwardly, no doubt feeling Doug's eyes sweeping her body.

"Come on over," Mrs. Johnson told her, and Emily, after only a brief pause, slowly shuffled to just outside of an arm's length of her mother, naturally wary of coming any closer. But Mrs. Johnson's eyes narrowed at her, and Emily forced her legs to edge forward just a bit...

An arm shot up, grabbing one of Emily's wrists and pulling her forcefully over Mrs. Johnson's lap. Emily screamed and flailed but could do nothing to prevent herself from landing smack dab across her mothers thighs, right where Mrs. Johnson wanted her. ("Told you it worked," Mrs. Johnson commented wryly.)

And true to form, Mrs. Johnson next sharply demanded, "Do you know why you need this spanking, little girl?" Her right hand was poised above Emily's vulnerable and tender bottom.

"Yes, ma'am," Emily called out in a trembling voice.

"Go ahead."

"...Because I was bad. I was playing with the baby's little thing, and that's wrong."

"You'd better believe it. And this ought to show you just how wrong it was." And Mrs. Johnson let her hand drop, releasing a mighty blow to Emily's bottom. Doug flinched out of habit, and Emily cried out. Doug could see the fear on her face as she awaited the next spank. It came several second later, and the others were also well spaced out, in order to let the sting of each sink in before the next, Doug assumed. He watched grimly as the tempo of the paddling increased. Unconsciously his hands found his own (well-padded) bottom and rubbed it repeatedly. Relief thaqt it wasn't him again flooded through him, as well as some inexplicable guilt (it certainly wasn't his fault) and more understandable pity. This wasn't as difficult as having a spanking himself, but watching wasn't turning out to be any fun either.

As he watched, he could tell as Emily entered all the stages he had experienced the week before: first simple crying, then screaming, then wailing, and finally a hopeless, defeated whimper of exhaustion that convinced Mrs. Johnson to ease and finally to stop the furious onslaught. Emily, like Doug before her, was dumped on the floor and spent a moment crying before she became alert enough to pull up her panties and jeans. (Unlike Doug, Emily had not had an accident during her spanking, despite what had to have been an equally traumatic experience. Doug wouldn't think about this until several months later.) Mrs. Johnson stood and brushed herself off, replaced her chair by the wall, and approached Doug.

He was understandably somewhat scared of her right now, despite her earlier reassurances, and couldn't help backing away from her, but Mrs. Johnson knelt down and beckoned him forward, as with a shy child. Doug was surprised to see her face filled with tenderness.

"By the way, did something like what happened today out in the hall also happen last week?" she asked him gently.

Doug stared at the floor and nodded silently.

"And that's what you were trying to tell me last week?"

He stared at Emily, standing now and rubbing the seat of her pants and still sniffling. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't listen," Mrs. Johnson replied sincerely. "I don't think it will happen again."

Doug nodded silently at this promise, inferring from the way it was said that Emily would no longer be his babysitter. This was comforting in a way, but strangely, Doug wasn't entirely pleased by this.

And indeed, the homely girl was called to finish escorting him around the store. As Doug retrieved his cart, he caught sight of Mrs. Johnson leading Emily out of the store, and he correctly concluded that that was the last he'd see of Emily, at least in the foreseeable future. The grocery store would become a less threatening, but also, he had to admit, a less exciting place to shop from now on.

That night Doug had trouble sleeping. The day's events seemed to replay themselves continuously in his head. The whole experience had left him feeling disturbed and unhappy, but it took him a lot of thinking to figure out why. He knew it had to do with the whole Johnson attitude about spankings and the way Mrs. Johnson treated her daughter. Considering how many times Emily must have been beaten by her mother as she grew up, Doug suspected that he couldn't really comprehend the many ways she'd been affected by such continuous violence. Perhaps it was only natural that Emily should at times obsess about spankings. He decided he wouldn't try to judge her, as he'd been tempted to do before. But there were still so many unanswered questions.

For instance, why was she turned on by it? How had she sexualized her painful experiences. At times, such as last week, she seemed downright sadistic. Is that what excessive spanking does to a kid? Doug wondered. He could easily imagine Mrs. Johnson as being abusive, despite her facade of "caring" a child's well-being. Was this an example of passing down abusive behavior from one generation to the next? How would Emily treat her children?

And how would she have treated him? What had she been looking for with him? A playmate for S and M games? A baby to abuse? Someone with whom to share the pain of her upbringing? They had already shared many strange experiences; what might they have shared if things had happened differently? It was sad, really: it had only been today that Doug had realized what similar situations they were in, and suddenly, before he could explore the possiblities or answer any of the questions, Emily was snatched away. He didn't know where she lived or went to school, how old she was, or how she felt about any of this, including him. She didn't know anything about him, either. Their only link was through Mrs. Johnson, who obviously wasn't going to help get them together.

So Doug doubted that he'd ever find answers to his questions, or even see Emily again. What a rare opportunity she had been. How sad to have lost her.

.