Miss Goodridge

Miss Goodridge

Patrick was dreading getting home.

School had been horrendous, he’d had a fight with his best friend, he’d hit a teacher who stepped in to break it up and swore at the principal. The anger that built up inside him had found a very destructive way out and he was now regretting all that had transpired.

He’d always been a bit of a bully even when he was in kindergarten many years earlier, and his bullish attitude had carried over in each and every grade so far. He liked the fear he saw in some kid’s eye and his contempt for authority meant he wasn’t scared of any of the punishments the school offered. However, he realised he might have gone too far this time, hitting a teacher and swearing was grounds for removal from school completely, and that would have been a step too far even for him.

The day had been particularly bad. Unfortunately, things for Patrick were about to get a lot worse.

Needless to say his mother knew all about his day’s exploits and was not the happiest of people as her twelve year-old terror arrived home off the school bus. The phone call from the principal earlier that afternoon had spelt out just exactly what had happened and Patrick’s mother was relieved that the voice at the other end of the phone had not ended the conversation with his expulsion from class completely.

However, the principal had made it quite clear that she would not put up with such appalling behaviour or disruption to the running of the school. He’d been suspended for the rest of the week and would only be allowed back after an apology to the teacher Patrick had hit and had a complete turnaround in his attitude. His mother was at her wit’s end but she had come up with a plan she’d read about online - a way of dealing with unruly kids.

Patrick surreptitiously opened the front door hoping against hope that he could make it up to his room before his mother caught him.

“GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW.”

His hope died as his mother’s angry voice echoed throughout the house.

He shivered.

Normally Patrick was used to getting into trouble and his mother’s punishment had always been sending him to his room, grounding him, withdrawing the use of video games and TV privileges. This time he suspected, as they had all already been invoked, those options were no longer a possibility.

He swallowed hard and walked into the living room where his mother was sitting with another lady he’d never seen before.

“I received a call from your principal this afternoon.”

She left that tiny piece of information to sink in so he knew there was no point in trying to deny what had happened.

“What have you got to say for yourself?”

Patrick’s mind was working overtime. Perhaps he should have developed a strategy before he arrived home but only now, as his fate loomed did he try to think of something, an excuse, a defence, something… but his twelve year-old brain was having none of it and he simply gulped back the fear saliva that had appeared in his mouth.

“Er, er, er, it wasn’t my fault…”

“You hit a teacher and another pupil…”

“Yer, but that was Tommy,” he interrupted with an air of contempt, “he’s always such an annoying little bast…”

“You swore at the principal.”

Now it was his mother’s turn to interrupt.

“You appear to think this is some kind of joke. Do you think it makes you a big man in front of the rest of the class?”

She was ridiculing and angry with him at the same time.

“What do you think happens to school boys,” she emphasised that he was still just a boy, “who think it’s clever to fight and backchat adults?”

Patrick wanted to come up with some kind of clever response but in truth, he’d never seen his mother so angry and thought that a ‘clever’ comment might not go down well. He shuffled his feet as he stood looking crestfallen in the living room doorway. He hoped that the adopted look of dejection would garner some sympathy as he put on his most sorrowful expression.

“Well let me tell you,” his mother was still talking, “there are consequences.”

She wasn’t fooled by her son’s obvious fake look of contrition and had the final thrust to her angry speech.

“This is Miss Goodridge. From today until there’s been a change in your attitude, she will be in charge of you every minute of the day… from the moment you get up to the moment you go to sleep. From what you eat to what you wear. Indeed, there will not be one aspect of your life that is not sanctioned by Miss Goodridge and, she has my blessing to impose any punishment she sees fit to make sure you obey her every command.”

For the first time he looked over at the lady sitting next to his mother and took her in. She looked slightly younger than his mother, she had dark hair, beautifully made up eyes and, what seemed even more appealing to Patrick, a rather full breast… he wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a punishment or something else but he decided he wouldn’t mind doing whatever she wanted him to.

The woman didn’t exactly smile or frown but there was a look that made Patrick feel very insecure as she acknowledged his presence. She was absolutely stunning but there was definitely something about her that wasn’t, as far as he was concerned, quite right, although he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

His mother was still speaking.

“You will go with Miss Goodridge now and I will see you again when she thinks your entire demeanour is suitable for…”

“But mum, I have things planned for this week. Er, I’m in the school diving team so I…”

This time Miss Goodridge interrupted.

“Young boys do not interrupt when an adult is speaking.”

“But, er, I….”

“Do you not have ears? I just said young boys do not interrupt when adults are speaking. Are you stupid or something?”

Patrick was shocked that he was being spoken to that way by this stranger, this guest in his home, this…"

He was a bit too slow in his answer so Miss Goodridge jumped in.

“I asked if you were stupid.”

“Erm, er, no,” Anger was growing in his chest as he felt a hot furious shiver run through his body and was about to burst out in a tirade against being called stupid.

She looked across at his mother.

“Is he stupid?” She was laying on the insult pretty thickly. “Does this child not understand simple English?”

His mother just shook her head and refused to come to his defence.

“Well, I suppose if he doesn’t understand then that explains a great deal and of course I’ll have to start with the basics.”

She nodded towards his mother who was standing there with a shrug and a smile as Miss Goodridge stood up, held out her hand and commanded Patrick to come with her.

“Fuck you… I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know who you are but you…”

Miss Goodridge was fast and grabbed hold of her young charge. Her grip was terrifyingly strong as he tried to pull away but she had him over her knee in a second and was spanking his upturned bottom; his thin school trousers and underpants offering scant protection from her fearless palm.

He was stunned and tried to fight his way from her formidable grasp but she held him tightly in a position he found uncomfortable, embarrassing and painful. He wasn’t sure why the hold she had him in meant he couldn’t fight back but no matter how he wriggled and kicked out, he stayed exactly where she positioned him.

His bottom received several smacks from a hand that was deceivingly strong and firm. After the initial assault she stopped and rummaged in her large bag, which had been sitting on the floor behind her legs and from which she produced a small wooden hairbrush. This replaced her palm as the instrument of punishment as she continued to spank his wriggling bottom for several more minutes.

He was desperate not show any weakness but his twelve year-old bottom was receiving some serious punishment and try as he might to refrain, tears welled up and streamed down his face as he bawled his apologies and begged for the spanking to stop.

Eventually she stopped and stood her sore and snuffling charge up in front of her.

“Now, you will do exactly as you are told.”

She spoke sternly and obviously in command of the situation.

“Any back chat, attitude or disobedience will result in your bare bottom getting a thrashing… and I can assure you it will not be the gentle taps you have just received.”

Patrick was desperately trying to rub the heat from his bottom and looking at the ground as she spoke he thought “Gentle taps?” she had to be joking.

She lifted his eyes to meet hers making sure he understood who was in command.

“Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

He was still rubbing his bottom but had no alternative but to look at this strong and wilful woman and take heed of what she said.

He nodded.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.”

This was no polite request, this was a command… Patrick was still desperately trying to hold back his tears but nonetheless they were there and he was finding it difficult to get his thoughts and words into some kind of order. He simply wasn’t used to this kind of hostile stance from a grown up.

“Yes.” He whispered between gulps of air.

“You know my name, but, if you’ve forgotten then you call me Ma’am but I need to know you understand what I’ve just told you.”

She reached for the hairbrush again and his face creased in trepidation that he might be about to receive another ferocious spanking.

“Yes, er, Ma’am…” For the life of him he couldn’t remember her name it had escaped his brain completely. “I understand.”

He was scared. He’d never been scared before and found he didn’t like the way it felt. He was made to feel like a vulnerable little kid who had no thoughts and no opinions and was just a…

He didn’t want to think any more as she held his hand and guided him out to her car.

This was an opportunity to run off. He wanted to fight, to protest, to show her he had a mind of his own and wasn’t the type of lad to be pushed around by a woman. However, his throbbing bottom and tearful face and the grip around his arm as he was marched to the car were evidence that this woman was completely in charge and he’d better not mess her around. The consequences for doing so were… incredibly painful.

He didn’t even say goodbye to his mother who, although sad to see her son go, knew that he needed some discipline in his life, a discipline which she had been unable to give.

Patrick was as good as gold during the journey to where ever he was going, mainly due to the fact that he just couldn’t sit comfortably in the car seat as his bottom throbbed so much. The threat of a much more severe punishment had an effect and he remained tight-lipped, desperately attempting, but unsuccessfully, to hold back tears as Miss Goodridge drove him he knew not where.

This was how Miss Goodridge operated; her methods were undisclosed though effective.

Her customers were only told their child would be away for “however long it took”. Some children reacted quickly to her ‘teaching’ methods, whilst others took more intense training over a longer period. However, the results were always the same, total compliance, total subservience and total control for their parents. Those who went through the ‘Goodridge System’ at the beginning were boys and girls who were growing up knowing their place and how to please others.

She never discussed her methods just offered results and that was all any parent was paying for but she did offer the proviso that should she fail then all fees would be refunded without question.

She had never yet had to return a fee.

However, once the child was restored to its parents there was a list of measures and practices she gave them to continue her good work, thus avoiding any relapse.

Any time the child even thought about becoming confrontational or argumentative, their bladder and/or bowel would open and they would deposit whatever was in them into their pants. To prevent public messes, she gave them a love and reliance on thick padding with suitable vinyl protection.

So, when they returned to their parents, cowed and submissive, they also wore the defence that would keep them that way. It was strange that nearly every parent loved having their compliant child back in diapers. The super soft thick fabric, together with the soft rustle or crinkle of the chosen pvc panties making them more loving and dependent and that was a renewed and wonderful feeling their mother and father appreciated.

Miss Goodridge had been recommended to Patrick’s mummy. Well, perhaps not recommended as much as researched by her to try and find an answer to his growing unruliness. Miss Goodridge’s online references were brilliant and contained glowing reports from parents who had sent their troubled offspring to her and received back much improved children. Those reviews had convinced her that perhaps this mysterious lady might be just the answer to her rapidly growing problem.

Sixteen days after Patrick had left with Miss Goodridge he returned a new and improved boy. Perhaps a tiny bit clingy but now well behaved as well as thickly diapered. His manners had greatly improved and, like all her ‘students’, was full of praise for the lady who’d changed his life and made him understand his place in it.

As per Miss Goodridge’s instructions, he was to have specific bedtimes, naps and food. TV and video games should be heavily monitored, or better still, banned altogether. Regular hugging and cuddling sessions should always accompany diaper changes as should positive baby talk and applications of baby oil and powder. That sense of touch around the diaper area, together with words of infant style encouragement, would be letting the child know he or she is loved but that comfort is reliant on mummy and daddy. Pacifiers and baby bottles should be used if needed to calm the child if it becomes agitated in any way. However, for Patrick the main thing was positive reinforcement that he was a sweet little boy who needed his mommy.

Miss Goodridge also prescribed a certain dress-code which entailed him wearing diapers and rubber panties, and only those items, as often as possible. Likewise, all parents were told that their little one should never be asked (or allowed) to make a decision, this, in the ‘Goodridge System’, would only add confusion to the child’s mind. How a child was dressed and fed was of course up to the parent but Miss Goodridge advised that colourful, juvenile ensembles worked best for keeping a child in check, whilst bland food and drink would not fill the child with ‘E’ numbers and sugar.

The child was also micro-chipped so that he or she could always be located if they wandered off.

Any naughtiness, which she confidently predicted would hardly ever happen, but if it did, needed quick action - a thorough spanking and corner time was advised. They should wear thick, thick diapers around the house as well as for sleeping in and even when out and about his protection should be equally evident. Regular and obvious diaper checks in public were recommended.

Patrick needed to know his place and that was as mommy’s sweet obedient little boy.

There was very little left of twelve year-old Patrick’s previous ways. The naughty boy was now more a pliant and happy cherubic two year-old dashing around the house in his crinkly protection. The mischievous pre-teen had been transformed into the sweetest and most loving twelve year-old who didn’t like to stray too far away from his mommy. Who at times of stress, like going outside, held on to her hand for dear life. The thick padding offering him the security needed should anything upset him.

However, mommy was there to make sure her little boy was safe, secure and that nothing would harm or make him wet or mess his generous fluffy diaper. However, from the moment he’d returned home, and even without any family discord, he filled his protection with remarkable regularity. Not that mommy minded, it was like having her sweet little baby back and she was determined to make the most of the time they spent together.

p.s.

Miss Goodridge was a mysterious woman. Her background was unknown to her present customers and few asked questions because her results were so defining. Also, her no-nonsense exterior meant just that - she wasn’t in the business to make friends; she was there to do a job, which she found demanding but ultimately rewarding.

The reason her background was never spoken of was simple, from a very early age she had been brought up to administer pain to earn a living. The Far Eastern ‘family’ to whom she was indentured knew their customers well. A small young girl making demands and ruling her older clientele with a rod of iron (or anything else that came to hand) was something to which a certain affluent elite loved to subject themselves. Sing Lo was one of the few children in that ‘family’ who actually enjoyed her work. The implements of her trade, applied in the precise way, produced some remarkable results that this young girl found inspiring. She loved the suffering, inflicting ‘correction’, applying new techniques, but most of all she loved the power to control people.

Now she’s older, and away from the influences of the ‘family’ she found, together with a new country, that her abilities were needed for a whole new generation desperately in need of discipline. So, she adapted her techniques, adopted a superior no-nonsense ‘nanny with attitude’ persona and found that it didn’t take long before the country’s wayward youth were being submitted to receive her years of training.

Her initial advertisement had simply said.

Does your child have an attitude you dislike?
Does your child never listen to a word you say?
Do you worry about where all this may lead?
Worry no more.
I have the solution to getting your sweet innocent baby back.

Her phone number and ‘rates to be discussed’ were the only other wording and in the first few months she was inundated with requests for help from desperate parents with problem kids.

From that very small beginning her reputation and client list grew. Word of mouth was excellent, then the internet poured praise upon her results and now, she is permanently engaged in the betterment of youthful attitudes everywhere.

The ‘Goodridge System’ hasn’t gone un-noticed and is at the top of one particular government department list as a possible deterrent, or the way future punishment for young offenders (and would be offenders) might go. Diapers, binkies and plastic pants would seem a small price to pay to keep the insolence of the young in check and an unruly, defiant youth in a state of permanent dependence. Plans and laws are already being discussed in various secret committees to alter, or even strike down, certain rights (Human and Civil) that might interfere with this process.

The discussions continue but the outcome is inevitable.

#######

Re: Miss Goodridge

I enjoyed this story and what it represented. I only wish that some bullies had met this fate in reality.

Re: Miss Goodridge

There are some interesting aspects here. You don’t spend a lot of time or description on the specifics of Miss Goodridge’s means of correction, at least as applied to Patrick. It almost gives the effect of telling the story from Patrick’s mother’s perspective, since she sees Patrick come home and leave with Miss Goodridge, but not the details of what happens when he gets where he’s going. The description that you do include is decent.

That said, there’s not a lot of story here. The central conflict involving Patrick is resolved without much fuss, since we don’t see the corrective process that he goes through with Miss Goodridge after she takes him away. It’s more of a short vignette rather than a story with a full narrative. It could almost work as an introduction to a broader story, where Miss Goodridge meets another client who doesn’t react to her methods, or where she begins to question what she’s doing. I’m not sure that’s the story you started out trying to tell, though.

Re: Miss Goodridge

:laugh: Whoa what a great story is there more I love it Kevin? ;D

Re: Miss Goodridge

Thanks for the responses they are greatly appreciated.

I apologise if any reader feels that I have short changed them in the narrative of ‘what really happened to Patrick’.

My idea was to write a short story but where all the action takes place ‘off stage’ for the reader to fill in what has taken place.

Theatre does this all the time (yes I know this isn’t theatre but please bear with me) where some epic battle takes place off stage and the only reason we know that something terrible has happened, is the return of a battle weary, battle scarred and changed lead character. We supply our own version of events, minds can run riot with the excesses (or otherwise) of our individual imagination.

However, I left the piece with a slight moral catch, because, no matter how awful something is, there will always be those to exploit that for their own ends.

OK, I’m certainly no Aeschylus, but it is just a short story which I hoped a few folk might enjoy rather than the long multi-chapter stories I have written previously.

Again, thanks for taking the time to read it and put pen to paper (you know I meant finger to keyboard). :wink:

Re: Miss Goodridge

He kinda gave you the entire plot in one entry. I can’t imagine there’s more, unless it’s Patrick straying from the straight-and-narrow and Miss Goodridge being brought back in to beat him back into submission.

My apologies, Les, as much as I respect your artful wordsmithing, even if the paths are rather similar in the end, this is rather lackluster by your usual standards. This isn’t a story, it’s a brief snapshot of an argument preceded and succeeded by a summation of one of the most common ABDL tropes out there, that of the badly behaved teenager being forcibly babied as punishment.

Re: Miss Goodridge

He Pretty Much Said What I was going to Say….