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The Thanksgiving Punishment - Part 1
🕑 Added 2022-11-24 04:19:22 +0000 UTC
My girlfriend Natasha glared at the scene that had unfolded in front of us.
There I was, bent over the tray with the ham, desperately trying to scrape the burnt bits of meat off the baking dish with a spatula. The scent of burnt pie wafted through the apartment.
Natasha’s cell phone vibrated and the home voice assistant announced the text message she had just received.
We’ll be there in an hour, Tasha! Thanks for hosting us!
It was in that moment, while staring at her face as it scrunched up and then grew into a hot blaze, I knew I fucked up.
***
Natasha poked me a few times from the bed, waking me up. In her typical active and chirpy self, she reminded me that today was the day her parents and girlfriends from college were coming over. I groaned. In typical Natasha fashion, my girlfriend had taken on the burden of Thanksgiving prep.
This was par for the course. Natasha always tackled problems that would have been seen as inhuman anyplace else. Who else volunteers to cook a massive dinner on one of the most important meals of the year for more than one person? I could already hear the judgment in people’s eyes already at the thought of her getting the turkey just a little too dry.
But Natasha was determined.
Especially because we all knew what was about to happen.
I was going to propose to her sometime in the next few months. We had talked about it without stopping for like ever at this point.
Natasha, who always wants to be in control, had picked out the engagement ring already. She’d picked out the location and even had her outfit ready. All I needed to do was show up with the ring and a goofy grin on my face and a speech from the movies.
If it wasn’t obvious by now, Natasha enjoyed being in charge. Ever since we met, she had taken the lead in all things. That was the way in our relationship. And before you point out that it was emasculating, it’s not. Our situation just works.
Which is why at this very moment, Natasha was untying me from our bed to get ready for the day. After a long night of kinky, vigorous sex, I had been left tied up with a penis gag in my mouth and a chastity cage around my dick, I was finally free.
I’ve always leaned a bit more vanilla you could say, I’m fine with the usual stuff… doggy style, sex with the lights on. I’ll even spank you a little bit. But this side of Natasha is something she said she absolutely needed. I oblige her because I know she likes it. I know, I’m pretty lazy and can be a slight pushover, but I do make a lot of money. I’m a day trader and I think that makes up for any lack of initiative I experience from time to time.
But the reality is, we are the perfect pair.
When I arrived downstairs, I watched in awe as Natasha licked the screen of her iPad to scroll on a recipe page and began to whip these potatoes into shape vigorously. I grabbed some cereal and poured myself some milk and avoided the pie that was sitting on the table waiting for the oven to give it some love.
Natasha was in her element.
Stirring, tasting, jamming to music. For a while, I sat at the table watching her work. After zoning out for a moment, I decided it was time for me to get my chores done.
After a productive evening, Natasha approached me. “I need to get dressed and ready for dinner. The pie is in the oven, the ham is in the grill, and needs to be taken out in 27 minutes.”
I nodded, hardly glancing up from my computer.
“Kyle, please, you have to take them out in 27 or they will burn.”
“Right right,” I said absentmindedly as I typed a few things into the computer.
“Please tell me you understood?”
“Yes. Pull out the pie in 27.”
“All of it in 27!” Natasha sounds a bit irritated.
I pulled out my other headphone. “Right, all of it in 27. Though,” I smiled slyly. “At this point, it might be 26 cause we’ve been standing here for so long.”
Natasha laughed and left the room. My humor had won out again. Whenever Natahsa yells, it’s because she’s stressed out, so I made a mental note to make sure in 27… well 26, to check on the food.
Only I totally forgot.
The next thing I knew, I smelled the wafting scent of burning ham.
“Oh shit!” I jumped up and ran to the grill outside and opened the tray to see a very very blackened piece of meat.
Fuck.
Carefully, I pulled the tray out of the smoker and set it on the window ledge. I figured we could just cut off the outside of the ham, people loved their food a little extra crispy. I believed there was a name for this, Pittsburgh style maybe.
But then I remembered… The pie!
I yanked off my oven mitts and ran to the kitchen where the pie was turning into a brick. I groaned to myself and reached inside the oven, paused for a moment when I realized I had forgotten my oven mitts and grabbed them from the counter.
I grabbed the ham, moved it, and came face to face with Natasha.
My girlfriend looked stunning in her burgundy overall dress, black shirt underneath and burgundy heels. But Natasha was clearly angry.
“Kyle… are you kidding me?” she asked, gesturing towards the oven.
There I was, bent over the tray with the ham, desperately trying to scrape the burnt bits of meat off the baking dish with a spatula. The scent of burnt pie wafted through the apartment.
Natasha’s cell phone vibrated and the home voice assistant announced the text message she had just received.
We’ll be there in an hour, Tasha! Thanks for hosting us!
It was in that moment while staring at her face as it scrunched up and then grew into a hot blaze, I knew I fucked up.
“I can explain!” I said after the home voice system announced our guests would be arriving soon.
“Kyle! The counter!” Natasha yelled.
Where I had placed the ham, the counter was starting to burn. I had forgotten the pan was going to impact the counter. I grabbed the tray and instantly felt some of the worst pain imaginable. I, in my haste, had grabbed the tray with my bare hands burning them in the process. The ham tumbled down to the floor with a wet thud and I clutched myself in agony.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I yelled.
Natasha grabbed the oven mitts, pulled the pie out of the oven and then picked up the ham with a pair of forks and set it in the clean sink.
While she was angry, her voice softened slightly. “Come here…” she said to me. “Let me look at your hands.”
I was shaking. They felt like they were on fire. “Are they on fire?” I winced as Natasha opened them.
“No,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “Just burned.” She told me to hold onto a rag. “Hold this here and I’ll get the burn gel.”
I nodded trying to look masculine in that pathetic moment. I stood there, wincing as my girlfriend returned and spread the gel on my palms. There was a benefit to her being a hospital administrator. At that moment, I was grateful.
“Feel better?” Natasha asked, putting the lid back on the jar.
“Yeah…” I tried to close my hands. Instead, I was greeted with intense pain. “Ouch.”
“Don’t worry, let’s tape them up.” My girlfriend taped up my hands with some gauze and explained that I’d need to make sure to keep my hands as still as possible for the next 12 hours so the slave can go to work.
I nodded slowly looking at my mummified hands.
My girlfriend then frowned. “I’m not happy with you at all right now.” She gestured around the kitchen. “You’ve ruined the entire thanksgiving meal, you knew how important this dinner was to me.”
“Hold on a second, I went and took the ham out of the oven…”
Natasha held up a hand. “Don’t bullshit me Kyle.”
I shut the fuck up real quick. She’s rarely this angry. At that moment, I knew that I needed to do everything I could to make things right with her.
“I can fix this,” I insisted. “I’ll order a Thanksgiving meal, I’ll call in a favor with a friend and they’ll come over and we’ll get this straightened out.”
My girlfriend shook her head and kicked the side of the oven. I felt bad. I had ruined everything, but thankfully I had a plan to fix this. I texted my friend and made arrangements. I even tried to say a few nice things to Natasha, but she ignored me. Instead, she focused on scrubbing the kitchen floor and getting the table ready.
I felt quite stupid standing there doing nothing. But with my burnt hands, there wasn’t much I could do very quickly. But after a few moments, there was something I needed to do.
“I’ll be right back.” I said to Natasha who had just finished setting the table.
I left the room and took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom. I hadn’t peed all day and needed to relieve myself. Only, I ran into a problem. When I tried to grab the zipper, my hands wouldn’t move.
Fuck.
I tried every sort of contortion imaginable, but I just couldn’t get any movement past the gauze which caused my hands to stay static.
I had this feeling that you get when you really have to pee, where the urge became more and more desperate the closer and longer I stood near the toilet.
“Natasha!” I yelled out to the other room. “I need some… um… help!”
But I heard nothing.
I started dancing around the toilet at this point, my groin feeling like it was on fire. I needed to pee, badly. It was like fire in my body. I bounced from foot to foot, but I realized seeing the toilet was only making things worse at this point. It was as if my brain knew it was seconds away from… Gahhhh.
Natasha opened the door in time to see my bladder let loose.
I felt an intense release that shivered through my entire body. The relief almost caused me to cry, but was short-lived. The dark spot traveled down the side of my sweatpants and onto the floor. Soon after what seemed like eons, the warmth saturated my crotch area and the last few drops escaped and my humiliating puzzle was complete.
“What the fuck Kyle?” Natasha’s mouth had dropped open.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get my zipper down…” I was babbling now, embarrassed.
Natasha grunted in anger and told me to stay where I was. “Stay there. I’ll get some towels.” As she walked away, Natasha mumbled, “This is fucking pathetic.”
I didn’t move as I stood in the now chilling sweatpants. Natasha was rummaging around upstairs for a bit. As I waited, my sweatpants began to feel extremely uncomfortable. I hadn’t wet my pants since I was a child and at that moment I began to feel very small.
Natasha returned, had me step out of my cold wet sweatpants and underwear and escorted me to the shower. She helped me wash myself because my hands were useless. I enjoyed the moment and once she rubbed the lather into my private parts, I got excited.
“You know babe…” I said as my member began to rise to the occasion.
“Not now,” Natasha said firmly, turning off the shower.
It felt kind of weird, but she dried me off, helped me get dressed and soon I was back in the kitchen waiting for my emergency meal prep team to come in and cook the dinner we needed.
Jeff arrived with bags and boxes and did his thing. Soon the smell of ham, stuffing and macaroni drifted into the house. I was sure, based on Natasha’s sly smile that I had made up for the problems I had started earlier. Maybe even later tonight, we’d experience some intimate alone time.
I flagged to Natasha that I needed to use the restroom again. My hands were not working at all. Natasha, to her credit, played the role of the dutiful girlfriend and helped me each time, which I was grateful for.
Soon Natasha’s friends were in the house and we were all laughing about my predicament and the burned ham from earlier. As we stood around and drank cocktails, I walked up to Natasha and mentioned quietly that I needed to use the restroom. Natasha and her friends glanced at me and looked sympathetically at my hands. Natasha excused herself.
The process was simple. Natasha unzipped my pants, helped me point and shoot, gave my guy a wipe, and zipped me back up.
As we rejoined the party, I began to realize that all the water I had had earlier was coming back to bite me in the back. About another ten minutes before dinner was to start, I needed to go again.
Natasha helped me again, but this time she was a little rougher with the zipper than I would have wanted her to be.
“Can you try and hold it next time?” Nastahsa asked me as we rejoined our guests who were starting to get seated around the table in the backyard. “We can’t keep doing this over and over.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” I hissed back, blushing in embarrassment.
Natasha rolled her eyes and scowled.
I sat down on the opposite end of the table and we all dug into the feast and began eating. I had to admit, the food was really good. The company was even better. Natasha entertained everyone with the story of how I hurt my hands as I did my best to maneuver a fork. I hate to admit it, but I was failing miserably.
Soon the urge hit me again.
I needed to use the restroom.
While the appetizers were flowing, I did my best to ignore the fire in my belly, but soon I was tapping my foot and feeling quite nauseous. The reality was, I was going to burst. So I did what I needed to do. I got up and headed to the head of the table where Natasha was deep in conversation.
I waited for a moment, dancing from foot to foot, and finally decided to tap Natasha on the shoulder. Natasha glanced my way and told me to hang on for a moment. I nodded for a second and shifted from foot to foot again. There was a fire in my belly again. I had the sinking realization that if I waited any longer, I was going to pee myself in front of this room.
So I tapped again.
The look Natasha gave me could have curdled milk.
“Please baby, I really need to go,” I gestured to my hands that were still wrapped in gauze and tried to be quiet, but the entire table at this point was now distracted from their dry turkey and canned cranberry sauce and were beginning to stare.
Natasha looked at me and said simply, “I didn’t know I had a baby in the house.”
I frowned. “I can’t help it…”
But the friend Natasha was speaking too just gave her a knowing look and whispered something to her.
Natasha gave a knowing look back and then looked at me in the eyes. Putting down her napkin, my girlfriend stood up, signed and excused herself from the table, dragging me behind her.
Only instead of walking to the bathroom, I found ourselves in the bedroom.
“I’m not going to be taking you to the bathroom every ten minutes because you can’t hold your bladder,” Natahsa said, rummaging through her side of the closet. I was curious about what she was going to get from the closet and kept craning my neck to see better. For a second I was worried she was about to give me a spanking, something we do from time to time when we are feeling kinky.
I laughed to myself at the thought of getting spanked for asking to use the bathroom. That just wasn’t normal.
If anything, a spanking would probably just end up making me pee all over her lap anyway. So not the best tactic for this situation. But then my heart dropped when she pulled a FedEx package from the top shelf. I knew what was in that package. And it was then that I started to worry.
The medium sized box was already open from the last time Natasha had brought out what was inside of it. I hadn’t enjoyed the experience then and I knew I wasn’t going to like what was happening now.
“Natasha…” I said tentatively.
“Lie on the bed,” Natasha said, ignoring me completely.
“Hold on a second, let’s talk about this,” I protested.
But Natasha pushed me backward and warned me that if I got any louder, the guests downstairs would be able to hear us.
I could tell she was upset. “My friend Francis suggested these would be good for you tonight, especially when your hands are trapped in those.” She gestured towards my injured hands that were wrapped tightly, still healing from earlier. As Natasha spoke, she was working my pants and underwear down my legs, exposing me to the entire room.
Natahsa then reached into the FedEx box and produced what I had feared all this time.
In her hand was a bright pink diaper. The pink contrasted against the room's modern decor, looking strikingly infantile in such an adult space.
“Lift up!” Natahsa demanded, unfolding the diaper and pushing it underneath me.
The diaper was fairly thick and reminded me of sitting on a thin, but large pillow. As I watched in horror, Natasha pulled the diaper up between my legs and proceeded to take it up front.
“I know you’ve worn these for me before, but today you’re going to actually use them. Don’t ask me to change unless you think you’re going to leak. I can’t have you embarrassing me in front of my friends.”
“But what about me?” I protested. “They’re my friends too.”
Natasha just glared at me and reminded me that it was I who ruined dinner. It was I who was continuing to ruin dinner and it would be I who would be in diapers for the rest of the night suffering in penance.
She placed extra emphasis everytime she said my name. “Kyle, just behave okay?”
And with that, Natahsa left the room.
I lay on the bed for an extra second, puzzled at what had just happened and resolved to grab my pants and walk back downstairs, doing my best to keep my dignity intact.
Before I pulled my pants back on however, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The diaper made my butt look ginormous. It was odd seeing my long legs and strong body contrast against the bright pink of the diaper. I patted myself on my plump posterior and cringed at the crinkle the diaper made. The diaper gave off an odd feeling as I waddled around the room doing my best to get used to it. It crinkled every single time I moved, and was thick between my legs, reminding me that it was there.
I gingerly pulled my pants on and looked again in the mirror. This was a little bit better. I didn’t look like I had as large of a bubble butt in this case anymore. The jeans I was wearing seemed to conceal the crinkle okay enough. I took a few steps and resolved that it was not as loud as I thought the diaper would be. That meant I still had some dignity left in me.
My bladder tingled a little bit more, reminding me of the real reason I had gone to Natasha in the first place. For a second, I was tempted to try and continue holding it, but I realized that that would be a losing battle. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I realized to my horror that I would have to wet my diaper for the first time, while all my friends were downstairs, enjoying Thanksgiving dinner.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to ask Natasha for a change either.
I was stuck.
