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September 12, 2022: Melinda Merriweather 1 + 2
🕑 Added 2022-09-13 08:00:45 +0000 UTC"Melinda Merriweather, nanny. Is your husband or boyfriend, wife or girlfriend out of control? Do they act like a big baby who never learnt to grow up? Are you feeling out of options and looking for a respite? Contact Melinda Merriweather for all your adult childcare needs and put your partner in their place."
Terry traced the newspaper ad with her finger as she read the words aloud.
"That does sound like my George. Oh but I couldn't. Could I?"
George's crass voice rang out from the bedroom.
"Terry! Terry! Come tie my tie! And get me my socks! Terry!"
She sighed and put down the paper.
"Coming, dear!"
Upstairs, she deftly looped the length of material around her husband's neck while he sat there on the bed pouting. Here was George. Perpetually pouting, his moustache drawn down along with his frown, and his head a halo of hair. He was already balding at 35, but that's to be expected for a middle manager at a furniture store.
"Those Swedes did it to us again, Terry." said the portly man. "Lost another sale. How are we supposed to compete with the prices of assemble-yourself furniture?"
"I don't know honey," she said as she tightened up the knot and movde on to grooming his remaining hair. "I'm sure you'll think of something.
"Well, I don't want to think of something, Terry. They don't pay me enough to think. I just want the customers to come. Why won't they come? Why won't they come now?" Terry stomped his feet in indignation.
"Yes, yes, dear," Terry replied. And then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She had been a beauty when she was 20. She was now nearing 30 and still beautiful, though some of that was faded now with years of early mornings and late nights taking care of her husband's every need. Still beautiful, but she looked tired. She tucked a frazzled blonde lock behind her ear to join the mass of sandy-blonde curls joined in a loose bun on her head. She saw herself standing over her husband in ten years, 20 years. Everything the same, their hair just getting grayer.
"Terry! Terry! Are you daydreaming again? I have to go to work? I wish you would take my needs more seriously, Terry! Did you pack me a lunch?"
"Oh," she shook her head. "Yes, dear, I did. It's waiting for you on the counter."
She accompanied him out the door and shut it behind her, locking it. She sighed. She didn't want to live like this for another fifty years. She didn't want to live like this another day. She went back over to the kitchen table where she'd left the newspaper lying. His voice still rang in her head.
"Terry! You left the newspaper here! You left a mess! Terry!"
She picked it up and walked toward the trash can. Then, she gave the ad one last look. She nodded once, as if coming to a decision, and she reached for the telephone receiver instead.
*****
"Melinda Merriweather at your service!"
The tall and imposing woman raised her parasol when Terry answered the door. She was dressed in a light blue dress with a matching sun hat secured to her head with a sheer kerchief-style scarf. It certainly wasn't her clothing or size that was imposing. It was her manner. The moment she walked into the house she seemed to know exactly what she was about.
"So if I am to understand you correctly, your husband is in need of a nanny to take him to task for his infantile behavior. To straighten him out, if that is at all possible."
She looked around the living room as if searching for any sign of Terry's wayward husband and his childish ways.
"Why yes," said Terry, her eyebrows raised in surprise, "but how did you know?"
Mrs. Merriweather pursed her lips.
"I can see it like a fortun- teller reads tea leaves. Look over here. Shoe marks on the ottoman. The man doesn't even bother to wipe his feet when he comes in. And there. It looks like he's been throwing his cigarette butts behind the couch. Disgraceful. And - my goodness, hold on a moment. Where is the laundry, dear?"
"Oh, it's right this way," said Terry, perplexed as to what Ms. Merriweather could be on about. "Aha, I knew it! Skid marks and urine stains! The man can barely keep his underwear dry. He's an infant if I ever saw one."
Ms. Merriweather tossed the underwear back into the laundry basket with the tip of her parasol and led the way back to the kitchen.
"Come on, dear, let's sit down and have a cup of tea."
She sat Terry down and went bustling about the kitchen like she owned the place. Terry was too tired to care. In fact, it was a nice change to have someone do something for her instead of whinging in her ear for this thing or that.
Soon, they sat across from each other sipping from Terry's blue china cups.
"It's true," said Terry, setting down her cup and folding her arms. "George is exactly like an overgrown infant, and I'm tired of it.
"You should be," said Ms. Merriweather. "How long have you two been together?"
"It's been nearly 10 years now. I married him when I was 18, and he was 23. I was too naive to spot the signs. I should have known when he threw a tantrum on our first date."
Mrs. Merriweather practically spat out her tea, when she heard that.
"10 years is much too long to put up with his behavior. It should have been nipped in the bud! But the good news is, it's never too late to start."
"And just what do you propose to do about it," asked Terry. She gave Ms. Merriweather a sharp look challenging her to come up with something she hadn't already thought of.
"I propose we treat him the way he's been acting. And since he's been acting like an infant, that's exactly how he should be treated. But I'm going to need your help."
Terry listened eagerly to the nanny's plan and smiled to herself. This just might be absurd enough to work.
"Might work? Of course it will work! If I've seen it once, I've seen it a million times. Men like George will fall in line as long as you stand firm and take charge. Trust me, dear. This will not only work, but you'll have a whole new life once we are finished with him."
Terry liked the sound of that.
*****
Late that afternoon George came back from work.
"Terry! Terry! Where are you?"
He looked around and grumbled. No Terry to take his coat, so he tossed it on the floor of the entryway, along with his hat.
"Terry! Where is that lazy woman?"
Suddenly a voice rang out from the stairway directly to his left causing him to jump half a foot.
"Don't you take another step, young man!"
"What?" He turned to see the stern face of Ms. Merriweather staring down at him from the stairwell. "Who are you, woman? What are you doing in my home?"
Ms. Merriweather slid down the banister and landed lightly as a feather front of him.
"Ms. Merriweather, nanny. I'm here to straighten out what needs straightening, and mend what needs mending. And you need to wipe your feet on the doormat and put away your hat and coat."
He looked at her with his mouth open and his eyebrows raised in astonishment.
"Right now! Chop chop!" she clapped her hands twice and he jumped as if startled, quickly doing as she instructed. She pursed her lips and nodded.
"Much better. Now, you will make a nice cup of tea for your wife, who is relaxing in the bath, and bring it up to her."
"Tea in the bath? But that's absurd! Besides, I've never made tea in my-"
"Now, George. You warm that water or I'll warm your bottom!"
The look she gave him told him she meant it, and he quickly scooted off to make his wife some tea.
George had to suffer the indignity of pouring the water himself. Of setting the kettle on the stove himself. She even made him warm the teapot.
"But why can't I just pour the water directly into the cup?" he whinged.
"Because it's not proper, young man. And do you know what else is not proper? Questioning your superiors. Now there will be no more shortcuts for you, George. You'd best do as you're told if you want to keep your place in this house."
"What does that mean?" asked George, and he yelped as he got a swat of the parasol to his bottom. Ms. Merriweather made some curt comment about the state of his pants but he didn't quite catch it, and he didn't dare ask. Once properly steeped, he wasted no time in bringing up the requested cup of tea to the upstairs bathroom, where his wife was waiting.
"Thank you, George," said Terry, lifting a cucumber off of her eye to look at him as he entered the room.
George frowned back at her as she took the cup from his hands.
"What do we say, Georgie?" asked Ms. Merriweather.
George quickly recited what they had practiced downstairs.
"You're very welcome, dear."
"See that? What a polite boy." Ms. Merriweather patted George on the head. "I think we'll have to talk about what you will call her from now on, but that can wait. First I think it's time we get you dressed more appropriately."
"Yes, ma'am," said George, and he was led out of the room.
Terry lay back in the bath and smiled, sipping her tea. She could get used to this.
*****
"And just where do you think you're going, Georgie?" asked Ms. Merriweather.
"To my room, of course. To change out of my work clothes?"
"Oh no dear, that's not your room anymore. Terry and I have prepared a new room for you. Your room is this way."
Despite the ridiculousness of this so-called nanny's assertion, Geerge followed her. Her certainty and bearing left no doubt that she was indeed correct. However, once he saw what they had in store for him he immediately dug in his heels.
"Oh, no. If this is some sort of joke, I'm not having it! I told Terry no children, and you won't catch me in a nursery or anything like it."
"Oh, but I think I will," said Melinda Merriweather, and with a wave of her hand the hallway carpet jerked back beneath George's feet, sending him stumbling forward right into the nursery.
Ms. Merriweather began to sing.
"Just a tush tucked in padding helps the baby learn his place, the baby learn his place, the baby learn his place. Just a tush tucked in padding helps the baby learn his place, and in padding he will stay!"
As she sang his tie came untied, his shirt unbuttoned itself, and his pants pulled themselves down. The portly man turned this way and that in the confusion, grabbing at his clothing and trying to wrestle it back onto his body. George stumbled back as his pants constrained his ankles. Be fell ankles over elbows onto the changing table and the last of his clothing flew off, leaving him naked. Leather restraints latched onto his arms and chest, holding him fast.
"Hey! Hey! Get me out of this! What's going on here?"
Ms. Merriweather continued to sing and dance nimbly around the room as she tossed several layers of cloth, a bottle of baby powder, pins and a pair of baby blue rubber pants toward the table. The infantile accoutrements they did a dance of their own. Several layers of cloth enfolded themselves over his crotch, and the pins fastened them together leaving poor red-faced George in a very thick nappy. Next the rubber pants slid themselves up and the cloth tucked itself in tightly. For the grand Finale, Ms. Merriweather tossed a dummy his way and it flew right into his mouth, silencing his complaints. A blue baby bonnet sailed through the air to tie itself around his head completing the look of Georgie, the ridiculous overgrown infant.
"That's much better," Ms. Merriweather said, dusting her hands and giving a nod of satisfaction. "Now let's go show your wife how much better you look like this, Georgie. I know she'll approve."
George blubbered and whinged into his dummy as he was led waddling out the door toward his old bedroom where Terry was waiting. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.
*****
"Oh, my, isn't he darling?" said Terry.
"Vis is widiccuwus, Tewwy." mumbled George, his face burning red as he stood there in front of the two women. "Yeowch!"
Georgie yelped as Terry reached out and gave him a firm smack on the thigh.
"That's Mummy to you," she said, standing up to her full height. "I have had quite enough of your cheek. Now go fetch Mummy her bath robe, before we tan your bottom entirely, ickle Georgie."
George practically pissed himself in shock.
"Oh, did I forget to mention?" asked Ms. Merriweather. "You're no longer a man in this house. You're just a little boy. Henceforth you will call your wife Mummy, and all adults sir or ma'am.
George hurried to grab his wife her robe, looking at her naked form a little to long as he did so.
"Naughty, naughty, Georgie," said Terry, quickly fastening her robe and twisting his ear.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" He said as he was led back into the nursery by his wife, led by the ear right up into his crib.
"You're much to cranky George," said Terry. "I think it's time you had a nap."
George blustered into his dummy, completely red in the face as she slid up the crib and wagged her finger at him.
"You're only proving my point, little man. You stay there and take your nap. If you so much as think about leaving, you will be one sorry little boy."
George looked from his wife to Ms. Merriweather. That woman. She put his wife up to all of this. He wanted to give them a piece of his mind, but he didn't have the guts to try, so instead his just sucked his dummy and retreated into himself. Crossing his arms and feeling sorry for himself.
The two women nodded to each other and turned to leave. As for George, he was contending with a rather different problem, because to his complete and utter surprise, somewhere along the way he had developed a strong boner. He reached down to feel it.
"And don't even think about touching that wee willy winkle, young man!" snapped Melinda, wheeling around to stare the man down. "Or we'll make sure you learn never to do it again!"
The color drained from George's face at that remark. He had no doubt the woman was serious. What kind of monster had his wife let into the house? He quickly wilted under her gaze and laid down like a good boy, hardly daring to breathe until the two of them had left.
*****
Once they had left the nursery and closed the door, Terry exhaled, leaning back against it.
"Well done, my dear," said Melinda Merriweather. "You're off to a great start."
"I didn't know I had it in me," Terry replied, shaking her head. "And to think, a little backbone was all it took to subdue my terror of a husband."
"Indeed," said Ms. Merriweather. "All men are the same, when you get down to it. They're just little boys on the inside, whether they want to admit it or not."
"Quite so," said Melinda, nodding, and unconsciously reaching down to cup her crotch. "Oh my! Excuse me! I don't know what came over me."
"It's only natural, dear," said Ms. Merriweather. "It's quite exhilarating to finally take your rightful place."
Melinda was panting and nodding. Taking such control was doing things to her that she had never expected, and she liked it.
"Go on, and take care of yourself, dear," said Melinda. "I'll go make some more tea. Oh, and make sure Georgie hears it, too. It should set him up to find out just what happens when he tries to touch himself like a naughty boy."
