The Bear

[cautiousswitch]

Sleeping in on a weekend was always a pleasure.  Greg yawned, scratched his stomach, yawned again, and finally got out of bed.  He stretched, grabbed his robe, and went to splash some water on his face.

He shuffled downstairs to the kitchen and got a glass and a mug from a cabinet.  He filled the glass with water which he drank after filling the kettle and putting it on the stove.  He scooped some coffee into the mug and drank some juice directly from the carton while the water was heating up.

He put the coffee away and took out the box of oatmeal.  Empty.  He grumbled a little and noticed the empty oatmeal packet on the countertop.  “Use up the last of something and put the empty box back…” They’d talked about this thing before.

The kettle whistled and he filled his mug, stirring in the coffee.

The newspaper was spread about the living room floor.  He took a drink of his coffee and started picking up pages, looking for the sports page.  It was nowhere to be found.  What he did find on an easy chair, sitting on the comics section, was a bowl and spoon with dried oatmeal on them.  He set the bowl aside and looked over the comics while finishing his coffee.  It wasn’t the same as reading the sports page.

He took all the dirty dishes back to the kitchen and ran water in them before leaving them in the sink.

Back upstairs a door which had been shut was standing ajar.  He looked in on a child’ playroom which was empty then continued to his bedroom.  There was a lump under the bedclothes.

“Somebody ate the last of the porridge and didn’t clean up after themselves.  Then somebody sat in my chair and lost my sports section.”  There was a giggle and the bedding shook.  “Now somebody is in my bed.”

He yanked back the bedclothes to reveal a young blonde woman, mid-twenties perhaps, wearing Hello Kitty pajamas and clutching a stuffed bunny rabbit.  She sprang to her knees at the edge of the bed and gave him a hug.

“Hi daddy!”

“Goldilocks?”

“Uh-huh.”  She giggled again.

He sat on the bed beside her and put an arm around her.  “You know what that story never tells.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It never tells what happens after Goldilocks gets home.”  He grabbed her and pulled her facedown across his lap.  “Breaking into somebody’s house.”  He grabbed the bottoms of her PJs and pulled them down revealing a nice plump butt.

“No daddy!” she squealed, half giggling as she did.

“Eating their food.”  He spanked her and she cried out followed by more giggling.  “What do you think her daddy did to her when she got home?” He continued spanking her amid her intermittent protests and laughter.

Then he gave her the this-is-not-playtime spank.  He had accepted her childish ways, even played along with them, but had also warned her that she couldn’t just be a brat any time she wanted to.  She cried out in a half gasp knowing that she had crossed the line once too often recently.

“And now for the story of Little Red Spanked Bottom.”  He gave her another punishing spank.

She cried out again, not laughing any more.  “Yes, daddy, I’ll be good.”

“I know you will.  But you know the rules.”  He would probably end up giving her ice cream to console her, but she still had eight more spanks coming before that happened.