by Alta Hensley
"That's a good girl. Now stay still."
Juniper felt the warmth of the water enter her bottom, and the familiar sensation of being filled to the brim. She groaned slightly as the bag emptied inside her and the cramping began. The bath mistress reached around and massaged her lower abdomen while the fluid settled into her depths.
"Stay just like this for fifteen minutes. It would have only been ten, but you decided to give me a hard time."
Juniper simply nodded and focused on holding the fluid inside. Her bowels desperately wanted to evacuate, but she knew better than allowing that to happen too soon. She had been on the receiving end of repeated enemas in the past for doing so. One was enough tonight. All around her she could hear whimpering, moaning and whining. If she opened her tightly closed eyes, she would for sure see several bare behinds upturned to the ceiling. God, how she hated bath time.
Chapter Four
"Costello?" the familiar voice of one of the bath mistresses called.
"In here." He put down his book and met her at the bedroom door.
"Juniper acted up during bath time. I told her that you would give her a spanking." She turned without further explanation and led the way to the bathing room.
He frowned as he followed her. He hated being told to spank Juniper. It was one thing if he decided to do so, but he detested being issued the command. It should be his decision, but in the eyes of the administration, anyone could command it to be done.
As he entered the bathing room, he soon realized why Juniper had acted out. All the progenies were receiving enemas. Who could blame any one of them for being defiant? He scanned the room and found his Juniper with her bum in the air, slightly wiggling in discomfort. He wanted to shove something up the bath mistress's ass and see how she felt. Although it wouldn't be nearly as small as an enema nozzle.
Pushing back his anger, he walked over to Juniper and kneeled beside her. "Sweetheart, let me help you to the bathroom."
"She has five more minutes," the bath mistress informed him.
Costello clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap at the woman towering over them. He knew that undermining another employee's dictate was grounds for termination, so he did his best to remain calm. Stroking Juniper's damp hair, he whispered, "It's all right, June bug. Just a few minutes longer and it will be all over."
The bath mistress tapped her foot and crossed her arms. "You have to spank her first."
Costello swallowed the detest forming inside. "I'm aware of my duties." He continued to stroke Juniper's hair. "Were you a naughty girl, June bug?"
Juniper looked up into his eyes, and then at the glaring bath mistress. Very slowly, she nodded her head. "Yes, Poppa."
"Then you know I have to spank that bottom of yours, right?" He continued to stroke her hair gently.
She glanced up at the bath mistress again and then barely whispered, "Yes, Poppa."
Deciding to just get it over with, he positioned his body so he could administer the punishment. Once the nozzle had been removed, he kneeled behind her and placed his palm against the tight skin of her butt. It was his silent warning to Juniper that he was ready to begin. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but it almost seemed as if she pressed her ass into his hand.
Trying to not hesitate, and knowing that the bath mistress was watching his every move, he began the spanking. He peppered her behind with several swats, causing tiny gasps to come from Juniper who had buried her face into her forearms.
Costello wanted desperately to rub and caress her behind after every swat, but thought better of it. He increased the intensity with the next round of swats, turning Juniper's gasps into tiny cries. He didn't usually mind disciplining Juniper to tears when it was deserved, but this time it just felt wrong. He could still see the bath mistress out of the corner of his eye.
As he continued to spank, he noticed some other poppas were having to do the same thing to their progenies. He wondered if they, too, hated to be the heavy in this situation. He was doing everything he could to distract his vision from Juniper's puckered rosebud that almost called out to him. He had the urge to press his fingertip against it, but again thought better of it. The urge to pleasure her while he was disciplining her was almost too much to bear. His cock hardened against his pants. It wasn't the first time that had happened, but the hunger was getting worse.
When Juniper's cries turned to a sob, he decided she had received enough of a spanking to satisfy the bath mistress. Not to mention, he was pretty sure Juniper was dying to use the toilet.
"Are you going to be a good girl from now on?"
Juniper nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Are you going to listen to your bath mistresses when they tell you to do something?" His voice almost sounded robotic.
"Yes, sir," she said as she sniffled.
"Good. Now stand up and let's get you to the potty."
She pulled her arm away—not defiantly, but gently. "I'm a big girl, Poppa. I can go myself." Her eyes appeared as if they were pleading. Begging him to allow her to retain some level of dignity.
Costello nodded. "Very well. I'll wait for you here."
When Juniper came back from the row of pink toilets, Costello knew it was time for them to go through their normal bedtime routine. But when their eyes met, he saw something. She was embarrassed. Not just annoyed that she had to have an enema like the other progenies, but Juniper appeared… ashamed. Her face blushed when she saw him, and her big blue eyes cast down to the ground. It was at that moment he desperately wanted to ask her if she really was a progeny. He stopped himself, knowing better than to do something stupid like that, because she probably wouldn't tell him even if he was correct. She had to keep her secret in order to protect herself. At the same time, he knew she could be protecting him, knowing that they'd fire him if he knew. Most of the progenies went through so many poppas she would probably do everything she could to keep the one that she'd got used to being close to her… or that's what he assumed, anyway.
She was dressed in pink pajamas with little flowers and had a pink dressing gown on over the top. It didn't matter to the facility that her favorite color was orange—she was a little girl, so she was going to wear pink. Every so often she'd look at her nails, though, which were orange and sparkly, which made him smile. "Come on then. Time for bed."
Nodding, Juniper followed him into their bedrooms. His was before hers, and then there was a door that led into hers so he could look after her during the night if she needed it. She never did, although there were nights when he thought he heard her crying. If he was right, it wasn't exactly a surprise. The life she was forced to lead must be very draining as she was always bouncing everywhere, doing her best to be bright and energetic at all times, even though there were times when he could see the tiredness in her eyes or hear it in her voice. As it didn't happen very often, sometimes he wondered if he was imagining it.
"What story do you want?" The look she gave him made him think she didn't want any story at all, but she pointed to her favorite one, acting the way she always did when she was meant to be getting tired. "Get into bed, and I'll get your book."
As Juniper did as she was told, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. If he was going to ask her, this really was his last chance until tomorrow, and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. She'd kept her secret for longer than he could imagine. Maybe he should wait until she felt ready to confide in him, if that ever happened. And, at the same time, plan what he would do if she did, because he wanted to get her out of the facility—safely protected on the other side of the border. That was something he was certain of, so he would get her there where she could live her own life, instead of being forced to pretend she was a child until she was either bought or discarded.
* * * * *
"And they all lived happily ever after."
Juniper, shaking herself awake mentally, smiled at Costello, trying to act as though she had listened to the story rather than dozed her way thr
ough it. She remained snuggled up into his arms, feeling safer than she had ever felt.
"I know you didn't hear a word of that." He laughed. "You were snoring lightly, so there's no doubt in my mind that you were asleep. Maybe it would have been better if you'd stayed that way. You've had a trying day."
He held her for a while, caressing her hair like he did so often. But this time, it felt… different. As her face pressed against his chest, she could hear the beating of his heart against the cotton of his grey uniform. All the poppas dressed in grey every day—depressing, really.
Determined to eliminate any further negative or sad thoughts, she pressed her body even closer to his and took a deep breath. His smell engulfed her, sending emotions she didn't know how to process through her entire core.
"I wanted to thank you," she mumbled against his chest. "You don't have to read me a bedtime story, but you always do and I appreciate it. Some poppas didn't do nice things like that for me. They didn't really want me to exist at all." She sighed before adding, "I never really understood why they'd chosen to work here." Shrugging, she tried to work out if she'd said too much, before deciding it didn't really matter. When he pulled away enough to look her in the eyes, she knew he suspected there was something different about her and grew nervous. "I like you. I don't want you to leave, but I know you will in the end. Poppas always do. This place…" She gestured around the room. "It isn't an easy place to work, so we appreciate every moment that we have with the poppas who really do care about us." She nibbled her bottom lip. "You do care about me, don't you?"
Costello nodded. "I do, and thank you for talking to me the way you do. When you say it isn't an easy place to work, what do you mean?"
"A facility full of six-year-old girls?" Juniper laughed, trying to sound more 'childlike'. "I can't imagine what it's like for the poppas, because some days it's hard enough for me to deal with all the progenies… and I, uh… I'm the same age." She needed to change her tone. She was getting sloppy. "They fight over the crayons, normally the ones that I want. They want all sorts of things they can't have, like jelly and ice cream every day instead of just on birthdays. And then I have to share a bath with a girl who doesn't stop playing with a wind-up frog."
"When I was little, I had one of them. My sister used to be obsessed with it, and I remember I ended up 'accidentally' standing on it, so I wouldn't have to deal with it any longer." He paused for a long moment and softly petted her hair. "What I wouldn't do to have those times back, though."
For the first time in a long time, she thought about her older brother. She couldn't remember much about what he looked like, since the mental reassignment had seemed to cloud all her memories. Her past was almost like a dream. She remembered bits and pieces, but everything seemed blanketed in fog.
For her brother—being a male—the facility life was not his destiny. She wondered if he'd had a dowry from some affluent family and was happily married somewhere. Tears stung her eyes at the memory of him, and she quickly tried to regain her composure. There was no reason to be sad in Costello's eyes, and she was getting too comfortable. Memories of her past were something she forced out of her mind. She had no other choice but to do so. "The bath mistresses keep a very close eye on the bath toys. I wouldn't be able to do that." She sighed. "I would love to, though. I hate sitting there as it travels from one end of the bath to the other, over and over and over and over. Mae sometimes puts a stop to it when she can tell I'm at my most annoyed, but even then it doesn't last for long, because she can't be with us all the time. There are too many girls for that, and she is the best hair-washer of all. We all want Mae to wash our hair."
Juniper hated talking like a child to him. She wondered if she could ever express herself without talking about toys or using stilted dialogue. She was intelligent, and wished she could show Costello just how much. She didn't really know why, but she wanted him to know there was more to her than the blonde sitting in pink pajamas in an oversized pink bed.
"Juniper?" Costello paused and studied her face. It was as though he was searching for something.
She looked up into his dark eyes. They had a way of making her want to be lost in them. "Yes, Poppa?"
He remained silent for quite some time. "I'm… I'm sorry I had to spank you during your enema." A pained expression washed over his face.
"I was a naughty girl," she offered, never breaking the stare.
"No, you weren't." He caressed the side of her face gently. "I'm sorry."
"We do what we have to," she whispered.
His lips were so close. So close she could feel his breath against her face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Yes, I suppose we do." He moved from the bed and positioned her so she was lying against her pillow rather than on him. Costello kissed her forehead as he tucked her in. "Now try to get some sleep, sweetie, and I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."
"Night, Poppa." It took all her might not to cry, not to reach out and beg for his touch in more ways than ever before. It took all her might to be just her poppa's progeny.
* * * * *
He left the room with the book in his hand and sat, waiting for her to fall asleep. Even though eight p.m. was lights out, she normally didn't start falling asleep until around ten, which was when she started crying, in part, he thought, because she knew that was when the poppas went to bed. Costello would turn the light off, but he'd sit there listening until he was certain that she was asleep. If he was right about her, at least there was a reason for it. Some nights he just wanted to go in there and give her a cuddle, but he wasn't sure if that would be crossing the line.
Sighing, he sat down with the book, flicking through the pages so he had some company, because he wasn't permitted to leave his room until the next morning. That was one of the things he hated most about being a poppa. He wanted to be able to live his life, and that just wasn't possible. Yet he'd known that was a requirement of the job when he signed the employment contract, so he shouldn't complain. Jobs were scarce, and money didn't come easily to anyone. If he didn't want the job, there was a line of hungry men who would jump at the opportunity. Costello would be left with little resource and no chance of getting another government job. And since government jobs were the only form of employment that could actually provide a decent living, he followed the rules of the facility to a T. There were just nights when that was harder than others. Nights when he wanted to be living his old life more than ever, but he wanted his sister to be there as well, and that seemed as though it would never happen. She was gone for good, at least until she got adopted to be married.
Occasionally, to busy himself in the night hours, he would send messages to the other poppas, or write reports for the people who ran the facility. Tonight he worked on writing up something on snack time, hoping that the other poppas would be doing the same thing as well, the way they'd said they would be. Everyone working together to make the girls happy would work better than just one of them complaining. He wouldn't send the report until he was certain, remembering the fear on Juniper's face. He wasn't going to do anything that might get her in trouble, because if she was in trouble, she might end up accidentally giving her secret away.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to ask her whether she really was a progeny. He wanted to understand her better and get to know her as she really was, instead of the child she pretended to be. One thing he was certain of was that her favorite color was orange, because she always wanted that on her nails, and she always picked the orange crayon first no matter what she was coloring, which was fortunate as no one else liked it as much as she did. They all fought over the pink instead, or the yellow, as they were both bright happy colors, colors that the rest of the girls chose as their favorite.
Fuck the damn colors. Fuck the paper work and snack time. He knew what he was fighting not to enter his mind. Costello was doing whatever he could to not think of what had just happened in her room. He didn't even want to think about it, because
it would make the situation real. Standing up and pacing the room, he had no choice but to face the fact that he'd almost kissed her. He'd almost kissed his progeny.
Chapter Five
Juniper smiled when she saw the paints. The smile grew even bigger when she saw that the walls were actually covered with what appeared to be bin liners. She glanced mischievously over her shoulder at Costello. All she could do was hope that she wasn't going to get him in trouble. What she desperately needed, after the last couple of weeks, was a way to let out some of the emotions she was feeling. Other girls were being chosen for marriage, and she wasn't. Three of them had moved on to their new adult lives while she was trapped, forced to act like a child even though she wasn't, and it was getting to be too much. If she didn't have a chance to act out, she was going to end up revealing her secret. If that happened… well, there were new stories from one of the other facilities that a girl had been found to be faking that she was a progeny, but Juniper hadn't been able to get any details.
With a brush in one hand and the pot of orange paint in the other, she started drawing swirls on the bit of paper in front of her, not wanting to do anything until there was some sort of distraction. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be one, because there were paints and six-year-old mentalities in play. So she was patient until Leanne tipped one of the pots of blue paint over the head of Jolene, who screeched like a banshee. She then picked up one of the pots of yellow paint and dumped it on Leanne's head. Leanne, of course, wailed, unable to believe that Jolene could have done something like that. Most of the poppas went over there to sort it out, so it was the perfect time for Juniper to throw orange paint at the ceiling. And not just a little bit, either.