{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"41868765-8fa8-4379-9c65-94fe55ff9e29","seriesId":"fcf8d169-519e-4c88-8d4b-36da1540aae6","seriesName":"Punishing Pinky","currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2021-09-23T18:28:54.53Z","title":"A Mortifying Position For Pinky!","slug":"a-mortifying-position-for-pinky","shortId":"xujTikKP","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"During a fireworks party, Pinky is doing some corner time with a particularly disgraceful look.","partCount":6,"parts":[{"partId":"9b72e1fd-f8c3-4a49-b9b7-7c9e2f4cdd25","title":null,"summary":"Shamie had been forced by his mom into the single most humiliating position he had ever been in that","wordCount":660,"readTime":3,"number":1,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"5338b9b9-0f61-4a37-b287-9b621273527a","title":null,"summary":"Earlier that day\"Shamie, you naughty little boy! You get in here right now! Where are you, -\" Kendra","wordCount":914,"readTime":5,"number":2,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"f8b101e6-0f33-4ec6-a08a-3353154124bd","title":null,"summary":"Helen taunted Shamie endlessly, smacking her lips as she snacked on berries and cookies and slurping","wordCount":1170,"readTime":6,"number":3,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"7a0f2fc7-a195-41bb-896a-d5843e668340","title":null,"summary":"\"Oh! Please I don't want to get spanked!\" Shamie turned his head to his mom and then the other way t","wordCount":971,"readTime":5,"number":4,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"83e798f1-ada0-4bf6-8887-5994b908e836","title":null,"summary":"The room remained dark for a few minutes but brightened over time, as another lamp was lit every few","wordCount":826,"readTime":4,"number":5,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"f14ac09d-6be0-4291-b3a7-f1995dd87f99","title":null,"summary":"Hate is a strong word. At even its strictest standard, Shamie hated everything about his place in li","wordCount":699,"readTime":3,"number":6,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Shamie had been forced by his mom into the single most humiliating position he had ever been in that wasn't, technically, a spanking or diapering (yet):

Laying his belly down on a bench with his nose in the corner, wearing only a pair of small pink socks and a short sleeve shirt, he had his legs tucked up by his ribs, resembling a frog, with his legs flat by his torso and his ankles flanking his ass. His knees were near his shoulders, pointing diagonally away, and his arms covered his face, which blushed as red as he had ever felt, because not only was he flattened and sticking his butt to the room behind him, he was with a diaper sticking out from under his bare butt, displayed to the living room. Tucked right under his belly and ostentatious manhood, it jutted out from between his legs, and draped the lower side of the bench.

The flat, triangular bench was between knee and hip level to most people, and he pressed his tiny genitalia into the diaper, wishing it could cover up their prior view. That he could time travel and cover his penis and briefs a few minutes ago with the obstruction he now had, except even this wasn't less mortifying. Even if no one had seen his genitals, this was a mortifying position to be seen in.

He was so humiliated that despite it not being an exceptionally painful position to lay in, his chest, butt and genitals ached awful from embarrassment, so exposed to whoever passed through, or stayed and watched. He was right by a high traffic zone, being at the bottom of the staircase and connecting 3 other major rooms with wide doorways.

Though made to be sat on and covered in thin leather, this bench felt more like a table to objectify him than anything he'd known as a bench before his last birthday many months ago, the last time for Shamie to ever get spanked; in fact he swore it was the only time he would ever have been spanked as an adult, just a joke of a birthday spanking that his sisters and brothers never had to endure, nor would he ever again, because to his constant inner monologue, it really was just the last time he was a child. Just his mom and siblings trying to take not for granted the last moments of his childhood when he had finally turned into a legal adult, old enough to vote and run away to anyone who would take him. But no one would, so he was humiliated every day by his routine of being told what to wear and when to go to bed by people who had made it clear they believed in slapping his butt and diapering him if it seemed right. But they hadn't made him wear diapers or given him any spankings, ever since his last birthday.

So he was technically an adult.

*I'm an adult, I don't get spankings, I don't pee my bed. I don't pee myself. Mom isn't going to spank me. God this is so... Ohh no.* Shamie thought to himself.

Yes, Shamie was legally an adult and yet.

Here he was, months later in July, just after graduation, just before the largest fireworks celebrations, with his nose in the corner, his mom scolding him, and his diaper- something he hadn't worn in years, though fewer years than everyone he knew- just under his exposed butt for him to kneel over, and everyone invited to the viewing party soon getting to see, hear and feel the thermal, static and concussive energy waves of both types of fireworks that night: Rockets flown into the sky for them to behold what they helped make and maintain, and fireworks of Shamie getting disciplined like a small child being potty trained and taught with spankings.

Shamie would also hear all of this, and feel much more of it, but only see a foggy blur of tears.

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