This story is copyrighted by me and may not be distributed in any form without my written permission. No links to this story without my permission either.

This is a fantasy, for adults only. Please, if you're under the age of consent, for most this means age 18, then leave immediately. It involves disciplinary themes (mostly spanking) and ageplay/regression. The word "child" used in this story does not refer to a real child, but a changeling type being.

I'm trying something different for me, I hope you like it. It is M/? That means the gender of the second character is being left ambiguous. The "?" can be male or female, as you'll see in the story it just doesn't matter. I wanted this to appeal to female and male bottoms, or tops for that matter. If there is enough interest, I'll write more of this storyline.

Feedback may be directed to:

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The Gift (Part 1 - Part 2)

by Innerchild

Innerchild(Yes, I'm *way* over 18)

This story is copyrighted by me, Innerchild, and may not be distributed in any form without my written permission. No links to this story without my permission either.

This is a fantasy, for adults only. Please, if you're under the age of consent, for most this means age 18, then leave immediately. It involves disciplinary themes (mostly spanking) and ageplay/regression.

I'm trying something different for me, I hope you like it. It is M/? That means the gender of the second character is being left ambiguous. The "?" can be male or female, as you'll see in the story it just doesn't matter. I wanted this to appeal to female and male bottoms, or tops for that matter. If there is enough interest, I'll write more of this storyline.

Driving through the fog, the driver's thoughts were on the past and not the road. Work held no interest anymore, only stress and disillusionment. Social life came up a big zero too, having only acquaintances and no real friends. No family left, either. Life was just one long existence filled with stress-filled days and lonely nights. The driver continued down the road wishing for more love and fulfillment from life, but strongly suspecting it was only a pipe dream.

In the haze, a shape could barely be seen ahead in the road. It seemed to glow sky blue.

"What the hell?!" the driver shouted while swerving to miss the mysterious form. A stream of swearing followed when the trendy little sports car landed in a ditch. Not able to get it free, the driver got out of the car, viciously kicked a tire and dialed the cell phone. A roar of frustration pierced the heavy fog followed by the declaration, "STUPID BATTERY!"

After walking down the road for more than an hour, it seemed the road was deserted. No vehicles had passed and the night took on a bone chilling cold. Just when the driver decided not to take another step, a light could be seen dimly in the distance. Seeing no other options, the driver began heading towards the light barely visible through the haze, hoping it was a house so a tow truck could be called.

"This sucks. I hate this," the driver grumbled while stumbling over rocks, roots and uneven terrain. The little dirt road that led towards the light had ended some time ago, and it was slow going through the brush. "I wish someone could just take care of this crap for me. Someone to take care of me for a change!"

The drive stopped and shouted to the sky. "Hear that world?! For once, I want ME to come first! I want someone else to pamper ME! Take care of ME, and all the crappy details of life. I want to have fun again. I want, I want, to run through the rain and not care about the mess. I want to eat what I want and not worry about the calories. I want to run through a field of daisies just because they're there."

Head falling to the driver's chest, the rest of the rant was a barely audible whisper. "I want, I want someone to hug me and be happy when I hug back. Someone who thinks the world rises and sets on me, and someone who I think the world rises and sets on, too."

Shaking off the self-pitying thoughts, the driver sniffled back snot and roughly wiped the tears away before continuing towards the light.

After walking for what seemed forever, the driver stopped. The light didn't seem to be getting any closer. Frustrated and fatigued to a stupor, the driver looked around. A large structure could be made out on the left and the driver headed towards it with renewed hope.

Reaching it, the driver pushed the very large wooden door open and stumbled in. Rescue could wait until morning; sleep was desperately needed. The smell of hay and animals tickled the nose of the driver in the pitch-black room. Stumbling over what felt like hard straw, the exhausted driver fell onto a blanket that seemed to cover a pile of clean, fresh smelling hay. Too tired to climb out, the driver curled up in a ball and fell asleep.

It was then that the light approached. It peered into the large basket the little being had fallen into. A soft blue light began to hum around the basket and the one resting within. Task completed, the light glowed warmly and moved the basket to the cabin doorway across the yard. This moment was one of the light's favorite times.

Causing a knocking sound at the door, the light hid under a bush and watched. In a few moments the door opened. A large man stepped out peering into the darkness of the damp night. His foot touched the basket and the man looked down puzzled. Pulling back the soft blanket that now covered the contents, the man's eyes went wide with surprise. Hesitantly he picked up the basket and took in inside. The light glowed a radiant blue, thrilled that the gift had been accepted.

They had been empty too long.


The man sat the basket on the floor between the fireplace and his easy chair of well-worn, dark brown leather. It was actually happening. He stared in wonder at the strands of brown almost auburn hair that peeked out from under the blanket that hid their owner. It wasn't a dream and he wasn't crazy. The reality unnerved him. How? How could this be? He'd come to this forest many years ago as a young, disillusioned man. His homestead was self-sufficient for the most part. He went to town once a year, a hard four-day trip to get there.

He liked his simple ways - no phone, or electricity. He cooked over a woodstove, or the fireplace if he felt lazy. The well water was fresh and clean, and game and fish plentiful. His only luxuries were his septic tank and hot water tank. A flush toilet was worth the hassle of the occasional cleaning. The water tank was primitive, but a hot shower after a hard day's work was worth the maintenance of the keeping the coals hot and the tank full.

After so many years living a solitary, almost Spartan, existence, this new arrangement would take some getting used to. He hoped he could. It was one thing wanting something, quite another to actually get it!

Children were the one thing he didn't think about much - until the note and little book arrived a month ago as mysteriously as the basket did that night. The little book turned out to be a manual on how best to raise this "gift" he would receive - if he agreed to the terms. A gift with strings attached needed some careful thought. After a week of debating with himself, and many rereadings of "the manual", he agreed. Another note appeared outlining preparations he'd want to make for the "blessed event."

After completing most of the suggested preparations, including building a new room to his cabin and a few pieces of special furniture - he waited. And waited. He'd just been cursing himself for a mad fool when he heard the knock at the door and stumbled on the basket.

The basket.

He reached down to move the blanket away from the face of the little being inside. Short, soft brown hair, some strands showing auburn in the flame glow, framed an angel's face. The skin held a light tan. The eyelashes were long and the brows dark and not too thick. A few freckles dotted a cute turned up nose. The cheeks were a healthy pink and the healthy red lips were not too thin or too thick.

This was not an ordinary child.

The letter and manual had explained it all, the whole incredible truth. The nearest his mind could comprehend this being was a changeling child. Not male or female, just all child. "The very essence of childhood," the book had said. "All the good, bad, and the naughty."

What had he gotten into? He fell asleep in the chair, the question unanswered.


Awakening from an oddly warmth-filled dream, the driver stretched lazily, and snuggled back into the soft, warm blanket. When the light fragrance of hay registered, the being sat bolt upright, blanket slipping way. Everything seemed so big and out of proportion.

A shiver traveled over the driver's naked skin, drawing attention the nakedness of it. Looking at arms, legs and torso, it all looked different, but oddly familiar. Yes, there was the scar from falling from the tree at age 5. The vaccination short, too. Same freckles, moles and birthmarks. But there was no - hair. It's as if puberty never happened. Stunned, the driver examined the crotch area. There held the greatest change. No sex organs. Not that they got a lot of use, but it was quite unsettling to find them gone.

Fear set in.

What the hell happened?! This must be a dream! The driver thought. And where the hell are my clothes??

A snore came from the right. Looking up, the driver shook with fear, lost bladder control and wet the blanket at the sight.

A great giant sat in the chair next to the basket!


The soiled blanket became uncomfortable as the liquid cooled. All this was too unnerving. Not caring who heard, even the sleeping giant, the driver began to bawl loudly.

As predicted, the giant man stirred and large, but gentle, hands scooped the crying one up. The crying stopped as the two gaped at each other, both in amazement, but for different reasons. The driver was stunned to still be alive, and the giant deeply grateful to have such an adorable gift, even soiled.

"Let's get you cleaned up, little one," the large man said in a soothing voice, carrying the other to the bathroom.

The "little one" couldn't find a voice to speak with, so startled and confused, mind racing to try to take it all in. The giant seemed nice, but it paid to be careful. Keeping silent seemed the best course of action.

The giant filled a basin with water and tested the temperature. Satisfied, he lifted the little one and eased the child into the water. Soon, the sensation of being washed, especially around the bottom, reminded the driver of being naked, and a blush spread from neck to face. The giant didn't seem to notice, but continued washing until satisfied all was clean.

The giant dried his gift in a thick towel before wrapping it in another dry one to carry into the room he'd built for this precious bundle he carried. A hand-carved bed, with a safety rail making it look like a shallow crib, sat in one corner with a chest of drawers next to it. The top of the dresser could be used as a changing table when the pad in the top drawer covered it. That's what he got out now, holding the little being in one arm against his side, the little legs straddling his body.

It worried him that the child hadn't said a thing, and looked a bit frightened, but that had been explained in the manual, as well, so he tried to remain confident and reassuring. The sooner he could get the child dressed and had a chance to talk to it, the man thought all would be well. He laid the child on the table and got to work powdering, pinning and buttoning.

Looking around the room, trying to ignore the diapering and dressing being done, the driver was impressed with the room. While somewhat plain, it was clean and clearly meant as a child's room. Another blush rose on the driver's cheeks as the diapering commenced, but the confused little one was stunned to realize the experience helped to relax strained muscles and nerves. There was no danger from this giant. Indeed, from the care the man took, it was obvious he was trying very hard to be gentle and caring. It was strange to have one's legs held in the air though, and the driver had to stifle a giggle.

Soon, the driver was dressed in a snuggly fitting diaper, a pair of soft fir lined leather moccasins and a comfy cotton shirt that reached the waist of the diaper. A giggle did escape the pseudo-child's mouth when it discovered the diaper was made from a flour sack!

Snatched up against the giant's chest, the driver hung on to the man's shirt while the giant walked them back to the main room, sitting in the overstuffed chair by the smoldering fireplace. The driver sat cuddled in the man's lap, finding the experience not unpleasant. Some reassuring touches, even from a giant, helped calm very jangled nerves.

"Well, my little gift, I bet you're wondering what's happening and why you're here."

No words could make it past the driver's lips, so a simple nod was all the response the giant got.

The big man cuddled the one in his lap. He took a deep breath and hoped he didn't mess this up.

"You are a gift sent to me, by who I can't say, but I'm grateful to them. Why I deserve such an honor, I honestly don't know. You are like no other. You will always be childlike, as long as you want to be. How old or young is up to you. Your age is more a reflection of how you are feeling than any indication of time passing. I am to be your father, with all duties, rights, responsibilities and privileges that go with it. I have been given instructions on how to go about raising you, too. You are probably the only child on the planet that came with an instruction book." The big man chuckled nervously. "Which is a real good thing, because I have never been around children. I promise you I'll do my best to make sure you have a good bringing up. I gave this a lot of thought before accepting, little one. I take this seriously and will do right by you. Even if you don't believe it at the time, my actions are for your own good, and in your best interest."

Pausing, the gentle man scratched his unshaven chin. It was time to explain some of the less fun aspects of this arrangement. An old-fashioned soul, the man firmly believed in discipline, self discipline and otherwise, and was pleased "The Manual" did as well.

"Which leads to the next topic, house rules. The most important rule: Do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it. Number two: Always tell the truth, no matter what. A lie will always land you in deeper hot water. And, third: If it's not yours then don't touch it. I've done my best to put breakables and things I don't want you messing with up high or out of the way. Ask first before getting in to stuff." He shook his finger at the wide-eyed being in his lap, voice taking on a stern tone. "They are there for a reason, little one, leave them be. Oh, consequences for misbehaving. I'll keep that as simple as the rules. You'll most likely get a spanking if you break the rules. How you'll be spanked depends on what you did and if it's not the first time it's happened. If it's something small though, I'll probably just scold you or put you in the corner for a while. I don't want to have to punish you, Gift, but I'll not have you run wild either. Do you have all that?"

Seeing that his words seemed to sink in, as the one on his lap nodded, the man smiled and ruffled the soft, short brown hair to ease the moment. "Now, what to call you and what you call me. I've thought about this at some length and I name you - Gift. I chose that because that's what you are to me and I never want to forget it. You are a most precious gift."

Seeing the child, for he could think of the being in no other way, and for all intents and purposes it fit, blush and look embarrassed, he smiled gently. "I don't really care what you call me as long as it's a form of father like daddy, papa, pa, or just dad. Father or sir are too formal though, unless you're in trouble then a "sir" might be appropriate." He smiled reassuringly, hoping there wouldn't be many occasions to test that. "My name is Tom Barton. That makes you Gift Barton. I know this is all a lot now, so take your time."

A small nod was all the response he got.

The man understood. It was a lot to digest. Shoot, it took him over a week to get comfortable with the idea, and then it still took him by surprise! He hugged his new child to reassure that he was actually a nice guy. "Good. You hungry?"

Again, a small nod answered him.

"Me, too. Let's make breakfast."


Breakfast?? The very confused "child" thought. How the hell am I supposed to eat when this is all so nuts?! Tom seems nice, but spankings? Corner time?! Being cared for like a child. This is unreal. This is a wild fantasy.

A realization hit home, sending a shiver through the driver's body.

This is my fantasy. Oh, my god!! I have to get out of here. This just isn't right. I can't live like this. I have a job. Responsibilities! Car payments to make!

All that went out of the "child's" head when it was plunked down in a very tall chair that the man scooted to the table. It reminded its occupant of colonial highchairs seen at a museum visited what seems like ages ago. Soon two bowls of oatmeal were placed on the table. Tom ate from one and tried to feed the other to the closed-mouth being in the highchair.

"Oatmeal not your favorite, is it? Well, it's what we eat for breakfast here. It'll stick to your ribs. Now open up."

When all attempts failed, Tom gave up and ate his own meal, watching out of the corner of his eye as his child look around the room. Gift would eat when hungry enough. Meal over, Tom put the dishes in the sink to soak and put the child on the floor. Holding the little hand in his, he walked back to the room he'd changed the child in.

"This is your room."

He escorted Gift, still by the hand, to the room next door.

"This is my room. You may not play in here without my permission, but if you have a bad dream or need to talk to me, you're always welcome."

Next was a tour of the bathroom.

"For now, I'll take you to the bathroom." He pointed to the toilet. "Soon you'll learn how to use that to go relieve yourself in. I've made a set of steps so you can reach easily. We'll start tomorrow. I know you've got a real sharp mind, Gift, and can potty train quickly."

Gift's mind wasn't on what the man had said, but on the reflection seen in the mirror. The little person seen their looked so familiar yet different. Not like a baby, or even a toddler, just shrunk down some. The face was the most interesting though. It looked a good twenty years younger. It was like finding a fountain of youth. This might not be so bad after all.

On impulse Tom swung his child up in his arms, earning a short surprised giggle for his little one.

"I know this is all new, Gift, but I'm real glad you're here. Let's get you dressed then we'll go outside."

Tom checked the diaper, much to the child's embarrassment, and finding it still dry, he put some sturdier little boots on Gift's feet and a light sweater over the little shirt and they headed outside.

The "outside" was magnificent. Thoughts of leaving took a backseat to learning the environment. They lived in a small cabin and a barn stood not far away. A woodshed sat next to the cabin, and a little bubbling creek meandered off into the woods that surrounded the clearing the cabin and outbuildings occupied.

"Stay away from the creek, Gift. I don't want you falling in," Tom said, as the child was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The child, insulted by the remark, didn't volunteer that swimming came second nature since very young.

The morning passed quickly, and by the time Tom announced it was lunchtime, the child was hungry! There would be no show of obstinacy when it came to eating this time. But when a bowl of mashed squash was put before the hungry child instead of the soup and sandwich Tom was about to eat that changed.

Still refusing to talk, Gift pushed the bowl away and reached for the sandwich.

"No, sorry, little one. The book says for the first day this is what you get. Oh, and a bottle of milk afterwards."

The small tantrum that ensued was quickly put down by two quick, brisk swats to a hastily uncovered bottom. Gift's diaper was put back into place and the child reseated in the highchair. A sulky child ate the squash. After Tom finished, he sat with the still pouting child in the rocker in the child's room, rocking gently while feeding Gift the bottle of warmed milk. After the last drop was finished and the child burped, the man tucked his little one in to bed for a nap.

"Sweet dreams, Gift. I'll be back in about an hour to get you up." He left the door open a crack before going out to finish his chores.


After the man had gone, the driver lay in the bed, fuming. Spanked! He'd actually done it. Fantasizing it was one thing, but the real thing stung like the dickens! And fed with a bottle. Yes, milk was a favorite food, but not served that way! Thoughts returned to escaping. A plan was conceived quickly. Slipping over the side of the bed, the driver carefully crept out the backdoor in the kitchen and began following the little creek down stream. The man would be back in an hour, but the driver hoped to be long gone by then.

Stumbling over rocks, progress was slow going. Also when natured called, it was hell getting out of the diaper to pee in some bushes. As embarrassing as the diaper was, it provided warmth, and in a pinch may be useful the driver reasoned. The driver hated to concede, too, that the wad of soft cloth felt good. Now that the enchanted cabin was far behind, there was time to think about it all.

Had it really been that bad? Well, aside from the spanking, and the lousy lunch, it hadn't been. Besides, the driver admitted, I did throw a tantrum. I had it coming and it was only a couple of swats.

In fact, if the fear could have been put far behind, it would have been fun. Having a second chance at childhood had always been a cherished fantasy. The details were similar to the reality playing itself out. The man - What was his name again? Oh, yeah, Tom Barton - was appealing as a father figure, too - tall and strong, and kind, but firm with wonderful sparkling hazel eyes. It was a wonderful dream.

"Then why do you flee?"

The voice out of nowhere scared the driver haft to death. Backing up against a tree, the driver shot back, "Who's there? Can you help me? I'm lost."

"Yes, Gift, I know. That is why I brought you here," the maddeningly calm disembodied voice continued.

"Don't call me that! I'm no one's gift. I need to go home."

"Then you have only to turn around and walk back the way you came, then you will be home."


A bemused chuckle floated on the rising wind all around the driver, who remained crouched under the tree. The sky was darkening, beginning to look like rain.

"Why must you be so stubborn? You are truly in need of discipline, little one. You have one behind you who could fill your every dream. Dreams you haven't even imagined yet. What waits for you down stream, little one? Answer yourself that."

And with those words the voice was gone, and the rain began to fall in steady hard droplets. The driver, thoroughly miserable, stayed under the tree to avoid getting drenched in the rain.

"What waits for me? Not a damned thing." The driver curled up in a fetal ball and cried sobs of loneliness and longing. After the tears were all cried out, a heaviness had been lifted. It all seemed so clear now. It was all there for the having. If the rain would only stop. Yes, there would be hell to pay for running away in the form of well-spanked bottom, no doubt, but that was fine. The things in life worth having didn't come without a price. The price was well worth the rewards.

"And I'm worth it. I deserve it," the driver shouted to the storm. "I divorce thee, old life. I want to go home!"


The anxious shout heard over the falling rain filled the reborn child's heart with happiness.


Steps were heard close by, and the child stood up trying to see in the bad weather.

A loud sound of crashing brush was heard in front of the tree.



Teeth chattering with cold, the child reached up as the man, no, as Papa, snatched Gift up in an almost bone crushing hug. Quickly secreting the shivering child under his heavy coat, Papa took his child home.

End, part 1

Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this installment. If you'd like to read more, please email me here: . If you have constructive feedback, please do the same. e-mail:

The Gift (Part 2)

by Innerchild

Riding along held secure in strong arms the newly created changeling reflected on the recent past.

Lousy life, car accident and now a chance to live a deeply held fantasy. To be a child again with the knowledge of, "if I knew then what I know now". And to have a loving father to help guide and protect along the way. How long would this last? A week, month, hear, forever?

Gift. My name is Gift. That's a nice name, the changeling thought, snug against Papa's chest and under his coat as the man hurried them back home, out of the rain. The downpour had slowed to a drizzle, but weather could be very unpredictable.

This is wonderful, the new child continued. I'll be totally taken care of. A dream come true.

It was a huge mind shift to go from thinking of oneself as an adult, fully in charge of oneself, to a child, fully expected to obey Papa. But it was a shift Gift was happy to make, had longed to make, actually.

With a sigh, Gift snuggled deeper into Papa's arms, head resting on the big man's shoulder. Gift's thoughts now turned to the present. Running away, especially in bad weather had been very naughty. Foolish. A tingle raced from the child's backside up the spine causing a shiver. Maybe Papa wouldn't spank. Gift thought harder, maybe Papa could be manipulated into a lower penalty. A sorrowful pout, sad eyes and looking truly remorseful would bet the punishment reduced.

I wonder if I can talk Papa into some hot chocolate when we get home, the changeling thought. I bet I can. He adores me. I bet if I act contrite enough, he'll even go easy on me for running away. I'm not hurt and every thing worked out. He can't be too mad. Hmmm, maybe I better add a few tears. I think I'm going to like my new life.

In a light doze by the time they got home, Gift was a bit cranky to be roused from the warm haven of the coat. But, Papa was persistent and went about drying and warming the child up. Damp clothes were unceremoniously peeled off and Gift briskly toweled down until the child's body glowed a healthy pink. All the while neither spoke.

When a flannel sleep shirt and warm socks were finally put on the child, the man had lost a great deal of the anger that had built up since discovering his little imp gone. And this was a very good thing. All the way back to the cabin the man had wanted to stop at every fallen log, tree stump or large boulder to put the brat in his arms over his knee for a sound spanking.

So here they were, the day over and night falling, Papa sitting in his fireside armchair looking grave and Gift shifting from foot to foot in front of him, looking contrite.

"Gift, I'm very grateful you are all right. I was worried out of my mind when I couldn't find you. You could have been hurt or worse out there. What in heaven's name did you think you were doing?"

Great remorse filled the child's heart and tears filled its eyes.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

"I told you not to go near the creek and I told you to take a nap. You deliberately disobeyed me and I need to make sure that doesn't happen again. I tell you things with a good reason, Gift. You will obey."

"Yes, Papa, I will from now on. I promise. I'm real sorry I worried you."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, but you need to be punished for disobeying. Considering how dangerous this stunt was, I think you've earned yourself a bare bottom spanking over my knee."

Putting a hand under the child's chin to lift it so they could be eye to eye, Papa said in a controlled voice, "You were told to stay away from the creek. You were also put to bed, disobeying me a second time by getting out of bed and leaving your room without permission. And sneaking out was deceitful, not to mention dangerous in this weather. That's three."

Any thoughts of playing on Papa's heartstrings vanished in big real tears that rolled down Gift's cheeks. True remorse at causing the pain and disappointment reflected in Papa's eyes filled the little being's soul. Quite a different feeling from the self-centered "what's in it for me?" attitude held through the previous life's adulthood.

"I'm sorry," the child squeaked out before openly bawling.

Papa plucked Gift up to sit on his lap, rubbing soothing circles on the child's back - which only made the child more miserable. Gift needed the shame at being so naughty taken away. Hugs and cuddles weren't the way, and although Gift knew what would do the trick; the child wasn't looking forward to it at all!

The small adult part remaining in the new child's psycy marveled at the paradox. The strong need longing for discipline against the equal anxiety of it being carried out!

The adult inside finally calmed the child-of-heart, readying both of them to accept the consequences of their actions.

Papa helped Gift wipe away tears and blow a very runny nose. When calm had been restored, Papa allowed Gift to remain snuggled in his lap. He found he needed the contact -maybe more than his charge did.

"I'm really sorry I was so naughty, Papa."

I know, little one, and you'll even sorrier after your spankings. Being sorry is good, but you shouldn't have done those things to begin with and I think you know that."

"Yes, sir."

"You did three very naughty things so you have earned three punishments and because they were three very naughty things I've decided they should be spankings. You will get one now before going back to bed for the night, one in the morning and the last tomorrow night."

Gift wanted to protest. Jump up and down and stamp an indignant foot, but the child just nodded and said quietly, "Yes, Papa."

"Okay," Papa said, moving Gift so the child lay over his lap. "Let's get this over with. This spanking is for -" He raised his child's nightshirt well above the clenching bottom and brought down his large, heavy palm as hard as he could. "Disobeying me by going to the creek!"

Twelve times Papa brought his palm down hard on the squirming bottom over his knee. Gift cried, howled and bawled from the first to the last spank, doing quite a spanking dance when set back on the ground.

After a couple minutes of prancing around trying to cut the fire out of a blazing bottom, Gift was drawn into a big bear hug and received a kiss on the forehead.

Papa carried Gift back to bed, then man able to feel some warmth coming from this child's backside as they went.

He tucked Gift in for the night and bestowed another kiss to the child's tear streaked cheek.

"Goodnight, little one. You stay put this time."

"Yes, Papa. Night."

Gift snuggled into the covers lying on the tummy and in spite of having a very sore bottom, was asleep in seconds.

Morning came with sunbeams peeking through the curtains in the changeling's room. Waking slowly the disoriented child took a few moments to recognize the surroundings. As Gift rolled to lay looking at the ceiling it took seconds to remember what had happened yesterday when a still pink bottom made contact with the sheet.

"Ouchie," the child grumbled rubbing at the mild sting. Gift lifted the nightshirt to get a look at the pink reminder of last night's punishment. The child shivered remembering what was to come this morning.

The previous nights resolve to take the well-earned punishment with as little fuss as possible evaporated in the dawn of this new day.

Gift went to the bathroom to do business and wash up. When finished Gift turned to find Papa was leaning in the doorway, a crooked smile on his face.

"I'm pleased you're potty trained."

He held out a hand and Gift took it, blushing from the comment. Papa escorted the child to the table.

Placing Gift in the tall chair, Papa put a bowl of oatmeal in front of the child that had cram and brown sugar over the top and a small bottle of milk.

In spite of the apprehension of the impending spanking, Gift ate heartily, since missing super last night, and made a point of not mentioning the upcoming punishment, hoping that Papa had decided last night's was enough.

After the bowl was emptied, the laughing bear at the bottom making the child smile despite what was coming, and the bottle finished, Papa plucked Gift from the chair and put the child against his shoulder, patting the back gently. After a few moments a rather large burp erupted from Gift bringing about a blush almost as red as the child's bottom had been the night before. Papa only smiled as he sat Gift on his knee.

"Child, it's time for your next spanking." He lifted Gift's hairbrush from the side table where he'd set it earlier. He held it where the wide-eyed child could see it. "I've decided that this spanking will be a paddling with the brush since we're addressing your running off. That was very dangerous."

Gift whimpered as Papa turned the child over his lap, and had lifted the night shirt out of the way before placing his free hand in the middle of Gift's back.

Without warning sharp, brisk, hard smacks of the brush began to fall on the wiggling backside. But, not mater how much Gift squirmed, bucked and howled the brush found its mark for the dozen swats Papa intended - the last two landed quite hard on Gift's upper thighs, releasing the loudest howl of all from the well chastened child.

Gift hopped around the room when released holding onto flaming cheeks and bawling, outdoing last night's performance. After a few minutes Papa called gently, "That's enough now, Gift. You need to get dressed. There are chores to be done."

Dutifully Gift took the offered hand, but continued to rub with the other as a Papa led them to the bedroom.

Gift sniffled and sulked throughout the dressing. This dream of being a child wasn't the walk in the park fantasized for years! Talk about being careful what you wished for! Real paddlings hurt a lot more than imagined ones.

Gift wanted to bawl again when placed on the changing table. Even the fabric of a diaper didn't seem pleasant against freshly paddled flesh. But, Papa only put some soothing lotion on and dressed Gift in loose bloomer type underwear before putting an equally loose fitting pair of overalls on. Papa let Gift remain lying down to put the shoes on. Dressing complete, Papa lifted Gift up and after giving the child a big hug and kiss set Gift on the floor.

With a gentle pat to Gift's bottom Papa sent the child on its way.

"Now you go feed those chickens and stay out of trouble until lunch, little one. I'd hate for you to earn another tanning."

Gift raced to obey, blushing at the sound of Papa chuckling.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Gift paid attention to chores and listened to Papa.

During a lunch of soup and sandwiches, Gift asked, sitting on a pillow, "Papa? Did you get spankin's when you were little?"

"Yes, my parents tanned my hide when I deserved it. That ol' strap of my Papa's almost got worn out on me! And that brush of yours used to be mine. Yes, I felt that, too. My parent's disciplined me because they loved me and cared enough to make sure I grew up right - just like I'm going to make sure for you."

" you love me?"

"You bet, little one. Come here."

Papa sat the bewildered child on his lap. "If I didn't care, I'd let you run wild. Heck, if I didn't love you then you wouldn't be here. And if you didn't want to be here, according to the manual, you wouldn't be here either."

"I wanna be here!" Gift declared, fling arms around Papa's neck.

The big man chuckled, holding the clinging being tightly - his child.

"Glad that's settled. Now, dry those tears. We've got mote work to do."

The rest of the day went by quickly. Gift thought about what Papa said and wondered one thing: just where was this manual? It had to be found!

And while the upcoming spanking wasn't looked forward to, Gift did find a peace, a calm that once the well deserved punishment was over the slate would be wiped clean, forgiveness granted and Papa's love would be there throughout it all.

Chores finished for the day, Papa engaged the child in a game of hide-go-seek. It had been "ages" since either had played and it lifted both their spirits, drawing them closer together.

"Oh, please, Papa! Let's play again! Plleessee??" Gift pleaded, cheeks red from exertion.

"No, little one, I need to start supper. Besides, " Papa said slinging the pouty child over his shoulder, producing giggles from his passenger, "You've won almost every game! Give your ol' man a break!"

Setting Gift down once they were in the cabin, Papa gave the child's bottom a pat.

"Now you go wash up then set the table while I get dinner ready."

"Yes, Papa!" Gift replied, happy to obey.

It felt strange to have to scoot a chair to the counter to reach the cupboards above - an easy task in the former life, but seeing everything from this new perspective of smallness was an adventure and a great learning experience.

And the weight of things was curious, too. Before a stack of plates would have required little effort to carry. Now, getting only the two required plates to the table unbroken felt like a major accomplishment!

"Table's ready!" Gift announced, beaming with pride at the correctly set table complete with origami folded napkins. At least some knowledge from the adult life had proved useful!

The child's smile widened further when Papa looked impressed at what his precocious little one had done.

"Well, now, that's the fanciest table I've seen in a very long time. That's a fine job, Gift."


Papa brought the corned beef hash to the table then the green beans he'd canned last year. It was simple fare, but would stick to the ribs.

After seating Gift in the tall chair, Papa took his seat at the head of the table and dished up some hash and beans for both of them. Placing a steaming plate in front of the child he began to plow through his own.

"Eww, what is this?" Gift asked, poking at the pile of hash with a fork." It looks like barf!"

"GIFT! That's enough! That is good corned beef hash and you'll eat it," he told the sulking child, firmly.

Far from the nouvelle cuisine accustomed to, the hash didn't look appetizing at all, but Gift took a very small little bit, followed by another slightly bigger bite. Then another and another.

"More please!" Gift said, holding the plate up.

"Not until you eat your beans."

"Awwww, "

"I know a child who is well on the way to no dessert," Papa said with knowing look.

Gift ate the beans.

After Papa cleaned the table and washed the dishes he asked, "Ready for dessert, little one?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Then let's get you in the tub first, then you can have dessert."

"But I want it now!" the child whined, tired from the long day. Gift was in no mood for waiting.

Papa fixed the pouting child with a stern look. "I think it's time for that last spanking."

Gift quickly backed up against the wall. "Oh, no, Papa! I'm sorry! I won't disobey or runaway ever again! I promise! And I'll take a bath!"

But the big man was resolved. There was still that last spanking and it might help improve this current tantrum.

Papa opened the door to the attached storage shed and removed the old leather razor strop that hung there. Gift's eyes went wide at the sight and began to bawl.

"No! No! No! Papa, please! Not that! I'll be good!"

Papa took Gift by the upper arm and escorted the protesting child to the woodshed, producing louder caterwauling.

In the shed, Papa put one foot on the chopping block and hoisted Gift over his muscular thigh. Putting the strap down so he could open the back of the child's overalls then the drawers, revealing a still slightly pink bottom. Papa put one hand on the child's lower back to steady the wiggling form.

Picking the instrument of punishment back up, he let it rest across the tense cheeks as he lectured.

"This is your spanking for disobeying and deceiving me. I will not tolerate deceit, child. Once this lickin' is finished the matter is closed and I hope we're never out here again. Do you have anything you want to say before I tan your hide?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, Papa! Please don't spank me hard! Please, I'll be good! Honest!"

"I'm sure you are and will be even more so after a dose of the strap. Eight licks."

The first one landed and Gift howled, trying to shield an already very hot bottom from further chastisement. Papa just held the hand in his at the child's back and continued to administer all eight strokes in firm, but measured licks. He wasn't spanking anywhere near as hard as he could. That would have been too harsh. But the wallops landed with a sharp sting that turned the wiggling bottom and backs of kicking thighs a deep shade of pink.

The child would have a little trouble sitting the next day or so, but it was neither less nor more than deserved. And it would hopefully keep Gift from acting foolishly again.

After the last slap of the strap, Gift was released to hop around the woodshed, vainly trying to rub out the fire behind.

When the child's antics subsided, Papa took Gift's hand and led the sobbing child back to the cabin, drop seat still down.

Placing Gift in the corner on the timeout chair, Papa said, "You keep your nose in the corner and I don't want to hear a peep from you until I get your bathwater ready. You think about your actions that led to your having to sit bare-bottomed on a soundly spanked behind." Kissing the top of Gift's head, he headed to the bathroom. Gift squirmed on the hard seat, ashamed to be in such a position. From participating in intense corporate boardroom meetings to being led from a woodshed strapping, life had changed drastically the past couple of days for the changeling.

Wiping tears with a dirty palm and sniffling loudly, Gift had to concede that the punishment had been just. Running away, during a storm, and disobeying had been foolish. Worse, it had been very naughty. It had worried Papa and caused him pain. It would never happen again!

"Well, little one, you finished thinking about what you did or do you need more time in the corner?"

Gift couldn't tell if the question was serious or rhetorical, but answered by scrambling out of the chair and wrapping both arms as far around Papa's legs as possible.


Two strong arms lifted the penitent into a big bear hug and walked them back to the bathroom.

"I know, honey. I hope you learned your lesson so it never has to be repeated."

Gift nodded vigorously as Papa began stripping clothes from the child.

"I have! I'll never, never, never, ever runaway or go by the creek without bermission."

Bermission? Gift though I haven't pronounced it that way since I was five!

"Glad to hear it," Papa said hugging the now naked child tightly before plunking Gift into the tepid tub.

Gift didn't complain and enjoyed the bath after a long hard day. The child knelt in the tub rather than sit, for obvious reasons.

Soon Gift was wrapped in a big, fluffy white towel and thoroughly dried. Dressed back in the nightshirt, bottom lotioned and diapered, Papa carried the yawning child to the kitchen to take a freshly prepared bottle out of the warm pan of water on the stove before settling into his chair by the fire. Still holding the drowsy child he threw another log on the fire before showing Gift the bottle filled with dark brown liquid.

When Gift looked puzzled, Papa said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Dessert, hot coco."

Gift drank happily as Papa hummed a soothing melody and, before the bottle was even half emptied, Gift fell sound asleep.

Papa tucked his child into bed with a kiss on the forehead before putting himself to bed. It had been a wild ride the past forty-eight hours. The most fear-filled and joyous of his life. He fell asleep feeling the happiest he had in years.

As the new family slept, a warm glowing light watched over them, very pleased with itself indeed.

The end