Thank you to AleX from Embarrassing & Fun for another fun collab! He made this pic for me and suggested the storyline. I filled it out. Enjoy!
“Indeed, when you are a busy single mother and you think you have tried everything with your rebellious, ungrateful son, you better call Nannies with Fair Discipline and request their top nannies!”
Michael’s mom had tried everything with her son. At eighteen, he was defiant, rude, and utterly convinced he was beyond her control. He mocked authority, disrespected her, and ignored every attempt at discipline. She knew she needed something drastic—something that would break through his arrogance and truly humble him.
That’s when she found Nannies with Fair Discipline. Their programs promised real results, and after careful consultation, she chose the Little Girl Package. It was exactly what her son needed, even if he didn’t know it yet.
When Friday evening arrived, she waited for the knock at the door. Michael had no idea what was coming. He sauntered over and opened it, and found himself face-to-face with Rebecca—a tall, confident woman in a tight red dress, her expression calm yet commanding.
Michael frowned. “Who—?”
Mom stepped forward with a smile. “Michael, meet your babysitter for the weekend.”
Mom was delighted with Rebecca who seemed strong and fit. By comparison Michael was of small stature, and quite weak due to his sedentary lifestyle.
Michael’s face twisted in confusion, then outrage. “What? Babysitter? Mom, I’m eighteen!”
Rebecca walked inside without waiting for permission, setting her bag down. “Oh, sweetie,” she said smoothly, “whether you need a babysitter is not for you to decide.”
Michael shot his mom a furious look. “Mom, this is a joke, right? You’re crazy if you think I’m—”
Rebecca didn’t wait for him to finish. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, dragging him over to a nearby chair as his mom smirked, everything going exactly as planned. Before he knew what was happening, Rebecca sat down, pulled him across her lap, and pinned him in place.
“H-hey! No! Let me go!” he protested, wriggling against her firm hold.
Rebecca wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him effortlessly still. “Oh, hush, young lady,” she scolded.
Michael stiffened. “What did you just call me?!”
She smirked. “Your mommy picked the Little Girl package for you. That means you are a little girl now. And little girls get spanked when they misbehave.”
Rebecca wasted no time asserting her authority. With one hand still firmly pressing down on Michael’s lower back, she reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.
“No! Stop it!” Michael yelped, kicking frantically as he realized what she was doing.
Rebecca only smirked. “Oh, hush, little girl. This is happening whether you like it or not.”
With a sharp tug, she pulled his sweatpants down over his hips. Michael howled in protest, wriggling wildly, but his struggling only made things worse—his movements helped her work the fabric further down his thighs. In one smooth motion, she yanked them past his knees, then down to his ankles.
“Stop! You can’t—”
“Oh, I can, young lady,” she corrected, slipping the pants completely off his feet and tossing them aside. “And I will.”
Michael barely had time to recover before she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers.
“No! No, please—”
His voice cracked in pure panic as she swiftly peeled the underpants down, baring his bottom completely. He thrashed, but Rebecca had expected it. She simply adjusted her grip, pinning him more securely across her lap.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” she cooed mockingly as she pulled his underwear down his legs. “Little girls don’t need modesty.”
Michael was mortified. The cool air against his bare skin made it all the worse. His mother stood nearby, arms folded, watching approvingly as Rebecca slid his boxers down to his ankles.
“Mom! Help me!” he begged, his face flaming red.
His mother only chuckled. “Oh, honey, I am helping you. You need this.”
Rebecca slipped the underpants off completely and set them atop his sweatpants. Then, as if to emphasize his complete helplessness, she reached for his socks.
“No, no, please,” Michael whimpered, his legs trembling.
Rebecca ignored his pleading and pulled off one sock, then the other, leaving him completely bare from the waist down. She gave his now-naked bottom a firm pat.
“There we go,” she said cheerfully.
His mother clucked her tongue. “So much fuss over a simple below the waist stripping. You really do need this lesson, young lady.”
Rebecca reached into her bag and pulled out a small handheld wooden paddle.
SMACK!
The first stroke of the paddle landed hard across both cheeks, cutting off his protests immediately.
SMACK! SMACK!
Michael gasped, his entire body jolting with each impact.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“AHH! STOP! PLEASE!”
Rebecca ignored his wailing, delivering crisp, stinging swats in rapid succession. “Such a fussy little girl,” she mused. “And we’re only getting started.”
SMACK! SMACK!
Michael let out an anguished sob, his legs flailing helplessly.
Rebecca didn’t stop. She continued to paddle him thoroughly, his bottom quickly turning from pink to deep red. “You will behave like a proper young lady,” she said sternly. “You will listen. And if you throw a tantrum? You’ll be spanked.”
Michael sniffled, too humiliated to answer.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Rebecca showed no mercy as the paddle continued its relentless assault on Michael’s now crimson backside. The wood cracked sharply against his skin, each smack drawing a fresh yelp from the eighteen-year-old who had, up until now, believed himself too old for discipline.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael’s struggles became weaker, his legs no longer kicking but trembling. His hands, once clenched into fists, now gripped the fabric of Rebecca’s dress in desperation, his sobs coming freely.
“That’s better,” Rebecca remarked, her tone almost pleasant as she brought the paddle down with precise, punishing strokes. “I think we’re starting to break through that nasty little attitude.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael barely heard her. His mind was consumed by the fire burning across his bottom, the unbearable shame of being bared and paddled like a misbehaving child in front of his mother. Tears streamed down his face, his sobs growing more pitiful by the second.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he howled, his voice cracking.
Rebecca smirked, not pausing the punishment. “Are you really, young lady? Because I don’t believe you. I think you’re just sorry your little bottom hurts.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael let out a strangled cry. His head hung low, his entire body shuddering. The room around him faded, his humiliation complete. The arrogance, the defiance—all of it was gone, burned away by the sting of Rebecca’s paddle. He was nothing more than a sobbing, sorry little girl over a strict nanny’s lap.
His mother stepped closer, looking down at him with satisfaction. “I told you, sweetheart, this is exactly what you needed,” she said. “Are you ready to behave now?”
Michael could barely speak, but he nodded frantically. “Yes, Mom! Please, I’ll be good! I swear!”
Rebecca paused, resting the paddle against his swollen, throbbing bottom. “Hmmm. I think you’re finally learning. But I don’t think we’re quite done.”
Michael’s breath hitched. “No, please! I—”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“You don’t get to decide when your punishment is over, young lady,” Rebecca reminded him, her voice firm. “That’s up to me.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael let out a wail, utterly broken.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Rebecca finally stopped, setting the paddle aside. Michael lay limp over her lap, his body shuddering, his face wet with tears.
She gently patted his scalding red bottom, making him flinch. “There, there. That’s a good little girl. I think you finally understand your place.”
Michael let out a weak sob, unable to do anything but nod.
By the time Rebecca finally set the paddle down, Michael was a sniffling, red-bottomed mess. Rebecca stood him up. He was still sniffling, his face damp with tears, as he gingerly stood in place, shifting from foot to foot. His mom was entertained as he attempted to cover his cute little pee-pee with his hands. His bottom throbbed—a deep, pulsing heat radiating from where Rebecca’s paddle had left its unmistakable impression. He had never been spanked in his life before tonight, and now… now, he felt completely defeated.
Rebecca stood and reached into a large bag she had brought with her. Michael’s stomach twisted.
What now?
His heart pounded as she pulled out an object and placed it deliberately in the center of the room.
Michael blinked.
It was… a potty chair.
Not just any potty chair—a small, pink, plastic one. The kind meant for toddlers. The kind with a removable bowl for easy emptying.
Michael’s breath hitched. His body stiffened.
Rebecca clapped her hands lightly, as if presenting something delightful. “There we go. Now, this is where you’ll be going potty from now on.”
Michael’s entire face turned scarlet. “W-what?” His voice cracked.
Rebecca crossed her legs gracefully. “Oh, sweetie, did you really think we wouldn’t be covering that?” She gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head. “Proper little girls must be fully potty trained. Potty training is included in the Little Girl Package.”
Michael’s stomach twisted. “B-but I don’t—I mean, I’m not—”
Rebecca tutted, giving him a look. “Ah, ah, ah. What did I just say?”
Michael swallowed hard. His backside still ached viciously from the earlier paddling, the memory all too fresh.
Rebecca patted the seat of the potty chair lightly. “Now, little one, when I tell you it’s time to go potty, you will immediately sit down—no hesitation.” She let the words settle, her tone firm but sweet. “And if you ever disobey? If you so much as hesitate, fuss, or try to be stubborn?”
She picked up the paddle from where it rested beside the chair, tapping it meaningfully against her palm.
Michael flinched.
“Little girls who don’t go potty when they’re told get spanked,” she reminded him simply.
Michael let out a small, strangled whimper, his lower lip trembling.
Rebecca smiled. “I knew you’d understand, sweetheart.”
She tilted her head, appraising him with an amused smirk. “Now then. It’s time for you to try.”
Michael’s body locked up in fresh horror. His mind raced for some escape, some way to resist, but… but Rebecca’s paddle was right there. His bottom still burned.
And he knew—without question—that if he disobeyed, she would have no hesitation in yanking him straight back over her lap.
With slow, trembling steps, he shuffled forward. The humiliation was suffocating. Each movement toward that ridiculous, pink potty felt like another piece of his dignity slipping away.
He hesitated for only a second.
Rebecca immediately lifted the paddle.
Michael scrambled the rest of the way, dropping down onto the potty with an awkward plop. His knees were pressed together, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire face burning hotter than the spanking he’d just received.
Rebecca beamed. “Good girl.”
Michael let out a shuddering breath, his head dropping forward in shame.
Rebecca leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a soft, teasing whisper. “See, sweetheart? This is so much better than another paddling, isn’t it?”
Michael bit his lip hard, too humiliated to answer.
Rebecca simply reached out and smoothed his hair with a satisfied smile. “Such a good little girl for me.”
Standing over him, Rebecca crossed her arms and tapped one manicured finger against her elbow, her lips curling in satisfaction as she looked down at him.
“Well, sweetheart?” she cooed. “We’re waiting.”
Michael swallowed hard, his face beet red. His mother stood beside her, watching expectantly.
“I—I can’t just go on command,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
Rebecca sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Oh dear. It looks like someone needs another lesson in obedience.”
Before he could protest, she reached down, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him up off the potty.
“No, wait—!” Michael yelped, but his words were cut off as he was once again bent over Rebecca’s lap.
SMACK!
The first slap of her paddle sent a fresh wave of agony through his already raw backside.
SMACK! SMACK!
“You will go when you’re told, little girl,” Rebecca scolded, landing a sharp series of spanks across both cheeks.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael kicked his legs frantically, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m trying! I swear!”
SMACK!
“Try harder.”
SMACK! SMACK!
Michael let out a pitiful sob, his body going limp. When Rebecca finally set him back on his feet, he was trembling.
Rebecca placed both hands on his shoulders and firmly guided him back down onto the potty seat. “Now, let’s try again, princess.”
Michael sniffled, his face burning with humiliation. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body to cooperate. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was eighteen, sitting on a pink training potty, being watched by two grown women as if he were a toddler in potty training.
“You have ten seconds, darling,” Rebecca warned, reaching for the paddle again.
Michael whimpered. He had no choice. With his whole body trembling in shame, he finally let go, the humiliating sound filling the room.
“There we go!” Rebecca cheered. “Good girl! See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Michael’s face was buried in his hands, his entire body burning with shame as the loud stream continued.
Rebecca reached down and stroked his hair condescendingly. “Next time, no hesitation, understand?”
Michael could only nod weakly as he sat hunched on the tiny pink potty, his knees pressed together, his entire body trembling with shame as he peed. His face was burning hotter than his still-throbbing bottom, his breath uneven as he fought back the miserable lump in his throat.
He was using the potty like a little girl!
And now they were watching him.
Rebecca sat with perfect poise in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, watching him like a patient teacher overseeing a student’s lesson. I stood nearby, arms folded, nodding approvingly.
Michael swallowed hard, staring down at the floor, wishing it would just swallow him whole.
As the tinkling finally stopped, Rebecca reached into her bag and pulled out a small pack of wet wipes.
He flinched.
Rebecca calmly opened the package and pulled one out, holding it toward him. “Here you go, sweetheart.”
Michael’s stomach twisted. He stared at the wipe in her hand as though it were a live snake. “W-what?”
Rebecca’s smile remained pleasant, patient. “Little girls don’t wipe like nasty boys,” she explained, her voice light but firm. “They must be clean and proper. Which means wiping the right way—front to back.”
Michael’s lips parted, his chest tightening in horror. “I-I don’t—”
Rebecca sighed, adjusting the paddle in her lap. “Sweetheart, are you hesitating?”
Michael’s entire body went stiff. “N-no, ma’am!” he blurted out.
Rebecca gave a satisfied nod. “Then go on, little girl. Take the wipe.”
His hands trembled as he reached out and took it. The cool, damp texture against his fingertips sent a fresh wave of humiliation through him.
Rebecca leaned forward slightly, her voice instructive but sweet. “Now, listen carefully. A young lady always wipes front to back. We don’t want you getting all messy, do we?”
Michael squeezed his eyes shut.
This wasn’t happening.
But it was.
He could feel their eyes on him. Watching. Waiting.
His hands were shaking as he brought the wipe to the tip of his penis—his one remaining shred of masculinity—now utterly useless under Rebecca’s authority. He let out a shuddering breath as he dabbed at it’s tip, his humiliation reaching unbearable new depths.
Rebecca clapped her hands gently. “That’s a good girl. Be thorough.”
Michael’s cheeks burned so hot he thought he might pass out.
He wiped again, his stomach twisting in knots, his fingers stiff and mechanical. His mortification was limitless.
Rebecca nodded approvingly. “Now, let’s make sure your little bum is just as clean, shall we?”
Michael barely suppressed a whimper.
His body went rigid as he reached behind himself with the wipe. He could feel them watching—could hear Rebecca’s amused exhale as he hesitated just a second too long.
So he did it.
He wiped between his cheeks, running the cool wipe over his most private place: his bum hole.
His breath hitched in his throat.
His humiliation was absolute.
Rebecca’s voice was smooth as silk. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it, princess?”
Michael didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Rebecca reached out and plucked the used wipe from his limp fingers, tossing it into the small waste bin beside her. Then she beamed, smoothing his hair with a condescending pat.
“Such a good little girl for me.”
Michael swallowed hard, his whole body trembling.
Rebecca sat back, the same pleased smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you into some proper clothes, shall we?”
Apparently Michael still had defiance left in him. When Rebecca pulled out a pair of pink panties and held them out, he shook his head. “No. I won’t wear those! Mom, please!”
Rebecca sighed and picked up the paddle again.
Michael barely had time to yelp before she yanked him back over her lap.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“Little girls do not tell me no,” Rebecca scolded, paddling him with sharp, rapid swats.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael sobbed, kicking wildly, but Rebecca didn’t stop until he was wailing again.
When she finally released him, he was too broken to argue. He took the panties with shaking hands and slid them up over his sore, throbbing bottom.
Rebecca smirked. “There. That’s much better, isn’t it, princess?”
Michael sniffled. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, his bottom still throbbing from the paddling, his pride shattered beyond recognition. His legs were trembling, his arms limp at his sides, his cheeks burning with unbearable shame.
He was standing in nothing but a pair of pink panties beneath the waist.
Next, Rebecca bent down to retrieve something else from her bag. When she straightened, she was holding…
A dress.
A frilly, sickeningly girly dress. Pale pink with little white lace trimmings along the hem, short puffed sleeves, and a ribbon that tied in the back. It was short—very short. The kind of thing a little girl would wear to a birthday party.
Michael’s breath hitched. “N-no way. No way, I’m not—”
Rebecca gave him a patient smile as she stepped closer, draping the dress over her arm. “What was that, sweetheart?”
Michael’s throat went dry.
Rebecca cocked her head, gaze dipping toward the paddle resting within easy reach. “I know my little princess isn’t telling me ‘no’ again… is she?”
Michael swallowed hard, his body locked up in fresh horror.
Rebecca sighed, shaking her head. “You’re just so forgetful, aren’t you? I told you what happens when little girls hesitate, didn’t I?”
Michael’s entire body trembled. He remembered.
The paddling. The unbearable, scorching heat that had left him sobbing like a child. The way she had reduced him to a sniveling wreck with nothing but sheer force and authority.
And she would do it again.
Michael let out a shuddering breath. His hands curled into fists.
“…I-I’ll be good,” he choked out.
Rebecca beamed. “That’s my good girl.”
Michael barely suppressed a shudder as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt. He flinched when her fingers brushed against his skin, but she merely tutted.
“Oh, stop squirming,” she chided. “You’re acting like you’ve never been dressed before.”
Michael bit his lip hard as she peeled the fabric upward. His arms instinctively raised, his face burning with shame as she pulled the shirt over his head and off completely—leaving him bare-chested.
He crossed his arms over his scrawny torso, wishing he could disappear.
Rebecca smirked. “Oh, don’t be shy, sweetheart,” she teased. “You’re going to be such a darling little thing when we’re done.”
Michael whimpered.
Rebecca lifted the dress, shaking it out before bunching it up to prepare it for him to wear.
“Arms up, princess.”
Michael hesitated for just a second—then quickly obeyed.
With expert efficiency, Rebecca slipped the dress over his head. The soft fabric brushed against his skin as it slid down, cascading over his scrawny frame in delicate frills and lace.
Michael’s fingers twitched as the hem settled just barely past his waist.
It was short.
Too short.
He barely moved, and the lace-trimmed hem lifted just enough to reveal a hint of the pink panties beneath.
Michael’s entire face turned crimson.
Rebecca clasped her hands together, stepping back to admire her work. “Oh, precious,” she cooed, her voice dripping with delight. “You look darling.”
Michael clenched his jaw, fists trembling at his sides.
Rebecca tilted her head, drinking in the sight of Michael standing there in his frilly pink dress, his fists clenched at his sides, his bottom still throbbing from the thorough paddling she had just administered. His face burned with humiliation, and she relished every second of it.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she crooned, “you look simply adorable. But I think there’s something missing.”
Michael swallowed hard, his stomach twisting into knots. “W-what?” he stammered.
Rebecca turned back to her bag and retrieved a pair of matching pink socks with little white lace trim and a pair of shiny black Mary Jane shoes. She placed them in front of him deliberately, then patted the seat of the chair beside her.
“Sit down, darling. Let’s get your little feet properly dressed.”
Michael’s pulse pounded in his ears. His first instinct was to refuse—to fight back, to say no, to run. But… but he didn’t. The memory of Rebecca’s paddle was still fresh in his mind, and his bottom ached with the reminder of what defiance earned him.
With a pitiful sniffle, he shuffled over and carefully lowered himself onto the chair. He winced as his sore cheeks made contact with the wooden surface.
Rebecca smiled sweetly as she reached down, lifting one of his feet and sliding on the first sock. She folded the delicate lace trim into place, making sure it sat just right before repeating the process with the other foot.
“There we go,” she murmured. “Such a precious little thing.”
Michael bit his lip, his face burning with shame.
Rebecca then picked up the first shoe, slipping it onto his foot and fastening the strap. “Now, sweetheart,” she began conversationally, “do you know why little girls wear short dresses?”
Michael hesitated, his throat tightening. “N-no…”
Rebecca finished fastening the second shoe, then sat back, crossing her legs gracefully. “Well, sweetheart, it’s quite simple,” she said, her tone taking on a condescending sweetness. “Little girls still need help with their potty training, and short dresses make it easier for grown-ups to check if they’ve had any accidents.”
Michael’s stomach dropped.
Rebecca smirked. “And you, my dear, are a little girl in training, aren’t you?”
Michael shook his head frantically. “N-no! I’m not—”
Rebecca sighed and reached for the paddle. “Are you arguing with me, young lady?”
Michael immediately stiffened, every muscle in his body locking up. His sore bottom throbbed at the mere sight of the paddle.
“I—I mean…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “N-no, ma’am…”
Rebecca’s smirk deepened. “That’s what I thought.”
She stood up, smoothing out her dress before stepping closer, towering over him. “Now, sweetheart,” she continued, her voice honeyed yet firm, “short dresses also serve another purpose.”
Michael dared to glance up at her, his expression desperate. “W-what’s that?” he whispered.
Rebecca reached down and gently lifted the hem of his dress, just enough to reveal the pink panties beneath. Michael gasped, his hands flying to his lap to push the dress back down, but Rebecca tsked and swatted his hands away.
“Oh, no, no, no, little one,” she chided, her voice full of amusement.
Michael whimpered, his eyes darting to his mother, who was still standing nearby, watching with an approving smile.
Rebecca smoothed the fabric of the dress back down but left it resting high enough that the tops of his thighs were still exposed. “You see, princess,” she explained, “short dresses remind little girls to be mindful of their manners. If they aren’t careful, everyone might see their panties.”
Michael’s breath hitched. His face burned hotter than ever.
Rebecca giggled. “And isn’t that such a wonderful lesson in modesty?”
Michael let out a small, strangled whimper.
Rebecca leaned down, her voice dropping into a whisper. “But that’s not even the best part,” she cooed. “Do you know what happens when a little girl is naughty?”
Michael barely had time to shake his head before Rebecca reached down and, in one swift motion, lifted his dress completely.
His stomach plummeted.
“No! Please!” he yelped, his hands flying to push the dress back down.
Rebecca caught his wrists effortlessly, holding them firmly at his sides. “Uh-uh, sweetheart,” she teased. “I want Mommy to see.”
Michael let out a desperate, miserable whine as his mother looked him up and down, smiling warmly.
Rebecca nodded in satisfaction. “This way, when she’s naughty…” She reached out and gave his sore, panty-clad bottom a sharp pat. “We can immediately deal with it.”
Michael let out a small yelp, his whole body trembling with humiliation.
Rebecca finally released the hem of his dress, letting it fall back into place. She stood back up, brushing her hands together. “There we go,” she declared. “Our little princess is all dressed and ready for the weekend.”
Michael barely suppressed a sob. His mother smiled. “I feel better already, knowing she’s in such capable hands.”
Rebecca gave her a wink. “Oh, don’t you worry. By the time I’m finished with her, she won’t even remember how to be a naughty little boy.”
Michael let out a pitiful, shuddering breath.
This weekend was going to be a nightmare.
His mother picked up her overnight bag and adjusted the strap, her expression calm—if not a little amused—as she glanced at her watch.
“Well,” she said brightly, “I should be going. The girls are waiting for me at the resort.”
Michael’s stomach dropped. His head snapped up, eyes wide with sudden panic.
“W-wait—” He took a desperate step toward her. “Mom, please! Don’t—don’t leave me here!”
Mom arched an eyebrow. “Oh, sweetheart. We talked about this.”
Michael’s heart pounded. “But—but I—”
Rebecca, still seated gracefully in her chair, smirked at him over steepled fingers. “Oh, darling, are you whining?” she purred.
Michael’s breath hitched.
Rebecca slowly, almost lazily, reached for the paddle resting on the arm of her chair. She didn’t even lift it—just tapped it lightly against her palm. A silent warning.
Michael froze.
He let out a small, strangled sound, every fiber of his being begging him to keep fighting—but terror of another merciless trip over Rebecca’s lap kept his lips tightly sealed.
Mom smiled approvingly. “Much better.” She turned to Rebecca. “He’s in your hands. Whatever you think he needs, don’t hesitate.”
Rebecca beamed. “Oh, I won’t.”
Michael let out a small, panicked whimper.
Michael’s stomach twisted into knots. “P-please, Mom, I’ll be good! I—”
Mom shushed him with a finger to her lips.
“I know you’ll be good,” she said sweetly. “Because now we both know exactly what happens to little girls who aren’t.”
Michael swallowed hard.
Mom turned back to Rebecca. “I assume you’ll be putting her to bed at a reasonable hour?”
Rebecca smirked. “Of course. Little girls need their beauty sleep.”
Michael’s throat tightened.
Mom nodded. “Wonderful. Well, I should be off.”
She stepped toward the door. Michael snapped.
He stumbled after her, panic clawing at his chest. “M-Mom, please! Please take me with you! I’ll do anything!”
Mom simply smiled and patted his cheek.
“Now, now, sweetheart. I’m going to a grown-up affair. Little girls belong at home with their nanny.”
And with that, she opened the door and stepped out.
Michael watched, his body trembling, his entire world collapsing as she waved over her shoulder—then shut the door behind her.
Rebecca took Michael’s hand and gently guided him to the floor, her grip firm enough to remind him that resistance would be utterly pointless. His dress flounced slightly as he was lowered onto the plush pink rug, and he let out a small whimper as his still-throbbing bottom made contact with the soft surface.
“There we go, sweetheart,” Rebecca cooed, patting his head condescendingly. “Now, little girls need activities to keep them busy, don’t they? We can’t have you just standing around, fidgeting.”
Michael swallowed hard, his stomach twisting with fresh humiliation. “I-I don’t need—”
Rebecca cut him off with a warning look. “Hush, young lady,” she said smoothly, tapping the paddle against her palm. “You don’t need to do anything but what I tell you.”
Michael immediately shut his mouth.
Rebecca reached into her bag and pulled out a large, colorful princess-themed coloring book. It was oversized, clearly meant for toddlers, filled with cartoonish pictures of tiara-wearing ponies, fairies, and castles. She set it down on the floor in front of him and then produced a small box of crayons.
“There we go!” she chirped, as if she were talking to an excited preschooler. “Time for some nice, quiet coloring.”
Michael’s face burned. He stared at the book, his fists clenching at his sides.
Rebecca arched a brow. “You will color, sweetheart,” she said, her voice deceptively gentle. “Or I will decide you need another little warm-up over my lap.”
Michael barely suppressed a whimper. His bottom was still throbbing from the paddling. He couldn’t bear the thought of another.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the coloring book and flipped it open to a random page. His stomach sank as he realized what it was—a picture of a smiling princess, complete with a big, poofy dress, dainty little slippers, and a glittering tiara.
Rebecca beamed. “Oh, that’s perfect, sweetheart! A princess, just like you!”
Michael wanted to curl up and disappear.
Rebecca handed him a pink crayon. “Start with her dress, darling,” she instructed. “A pretty princess must wear pink, just like you.”
Michael hesitated—just for a second.
Rebecca reached for the paddle.
Michael’s heart jumped. Without another word, he snatched up the pink crayon and quickly set to coloring, his hand shaking slightly as he scribbled across the page. The humiliation burned hotter with every stroke, the reality of his predicament sinking deeper and deeper.
He was eighteen years old.
He was wearing a frilly pink dress and panties.
And now he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, coloring princess pictures like a toddler.
Rebecca smiled, watching him work. She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” she praised. “Such a good little girl for me.”
Michael bit his lip hard. He felt like crying all over again.
Rebecca stepped closer, peering down at his work. “Oh, look at that,” she mused. “She’s actually staying in the lines. I am impressed! You see, princess? Maybe there is a sweet little girl inside you after all.”
Michael clenched his jaw. His face was on fire.
Rebecca reached out and gently smoothed his hair, her tone turning syrupy sweet. “You’re going to be such a good little princess for me this weekend, aren’t you?”
Michael swallowed thickly, his fingers tightening around the crayon.
“Say it, sweetheart,” Rebecca purred. “Say, ‘I’m a good little princess.’”
Michael’s breath hitched. His pulse pounded in his ears. His body shook with humiliation.
Rebecca’s fingers trailed down to the paddle.
Michael panicked.
“I—I’m a good little princess,” he blurted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Rebecca’s smile widened.
She reached down and patted him lightly. “Yes, you are, sweetheart.” Then she sat back, watching him continue to color, utterly satisfied.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, willing himself not to break down.
It was going to be a very long weekend.
Michael had barely adjusted to the horror of his situation when there was a sudden knock at the door.
His heart stopped.
Rebecca, still smirking with satisfaction, gave him a slow, knowing glance before casually stepping toward the door. She didn’t rush. She didn’t explain. She simply opened it, letting in a breath of fresh air—and a second woman.
“Hello, darling,” Rebecca said smoothly.
The woman who stepped inside was tall and striking, her blonde hair swept into a neat bun, her eyes sharp and calculating. She carried the same aura of effortless control that Rebecca did. And behind her…
Michael’s breath caught in his throat.
There was another boy.
Except…
He didn’t look like a boy anymore.
He was dressed nearly identically to Michael—a short, frilly pink dress, puffed sleeves, delicate lace, the hem barely covering the pink panties beneath. He was shorter than Michael, with soft features, his cheeks a deep, furious red. His eyes darted to Michael’s for the briefest second, filled with mortified understanding, before dropping to the floor in absolute shame.
Michael felt his stomach drop.
Rebecca closed the door behind them, clasping her hands together. “Sarah, darling, you made it.”
Sarah smirked, giving Michael a once-over. “Oh, Rebecca, you weren’t kidding,” she purred. “She’s absolutely adorable.”
Michael’s face burned.
Rebecca grinned. “I knew you’d love her.”
Sarah placed a firm hand on her own charge’s shoulder, guiding him gently but unquestionably forward. “And this little lady is Oliver,” she said sweetly. “Or, as I call her for the weekend—Olivia.”
Michael’s breath hitched.
The other boy—Oliver, Olivia, whatever he was now—shifted uncomfortably, his hands twitching at his sides, but he didn’t say a word.
Rebecca clapped her hands together. “Well, now that our two little princesses are together, I think it’s time for a proper playdate.”
Michael’s heart pounded.
No. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.
Sarah grinned, placing her hands on her hips. “Oh, absolutely. They’re going to have so much fun together.”
Michael swallowed hard, his fists clenched, his whole body trembling as realization settled deep in his gut.
This wasn’t just his nightmare anymore.
It was theirs.
Michael’s eyes flickered upward as Sarah guided Oliver down onto the rug beside him.
The other boy—no, other little girl—hesitated, his blush deepening as Sarah gave him a firm, guiding push. He plopped down ungracefully, his frilly dress fluttering, his pink panties flashing for a humiliating moment before he quickly adjusted himself.
Michael saw it in his expression—the exact same horror he felt.
Sarah beamed. “There we go! Now the two little princesses can color together.”
Rebecca smirked, stepping forward to grab a second coloring book from her bag, setting it down in front of Oliver. “Be a good girl and color nicely, Olivia.”
Oliver—his jaw tight, his hands twitching in his lap—managed a miserable nod. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.
Michael winced at how easily the words slipped from the other boy’s lips. But could he blame him? They both knew what disobedience would bring.
Sarah knelt down beside Michael, smoothing his hair back gently. “And what about you, sweetheart?” she cooed. “Are you coloring like a good little girl?”
Michael swallowed hard. His whole body screamed to resist.
But then—the paddle.
It still sat on the coffee table within reach, a silent reminder of what had already happened.
Michael’s fingers clenched around the pink crayon. His head dipped in humiliation.
“…Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
Sarah smirked. “Good girl.”
Rebecca crossed her arms, watching them with amusement. “Oh, they’re just precious, aren’t they?”
Sarah chuckled. “Aren’t they just? Two perfect little princesses, coloring nicely like good girls.”
Michael and Oliver sat in absolute silence, their fingers trembling over their coloring pages, their faces burning.
They had no choice.
They were trapped.
And their playdate had only just begun.
The room was filled with the soft sound of crayons scratching against paper. Michael sat stiffly on the plush pink rug, his small hands clutching a crayon as he carefully colored the princess on the page in front of him. He was trying to focus—trying to keep his strokes neat, his movements precise.
Because he knew what would happen if he didn’t.
Beside him, Oliver—Olivia—was not being so careful.
Michael hadn’t meant to look, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oliver’s hand trembling, his grip on the crayon awkward and unsure. His coloring was frantic, uneven, the crayon slipping wildly outside the lines. His princess looked like a mess.
Michael’s stomach clenched.
This wasn’t going to end well.
Rebecca noticed first.
“Now, now,” she cooed, reaching down to pick up Michael’s coloring book. “Look how neat Michael’s coloring is.” She turned the book toward Sarah, showing off his careful strokes, her voice dripping with approval. “Such a good little princess.”
Michael’s face burned, but he kept his eyes down. He didn’t want this attention.
Sarah, meanwhile, leaned over Oliver’s shoulder and let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, Olivia,” she tutted, shaking her head. “What is this mess?”
Oliver’s whole body stiffened.
Michael could feel the panic radiating off him.
Sarah plucked Oliver’s coloring book from his lap and held it up. The page was a disaster—crayon marks extending far beyond the lines, uneven swipes of color filling places they shouldn’t.
Rebecca clicked her tongue. “Oh dear. That’s not how a proper little girl colors.”
Sarah sighed, setting the book down and reaching for Oliver’s arm. “You know what happens to little girls who make a mess, don’t you, Olivia?”
Oliver’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched.
“P-please, ma’am,” he whispered.
But Sarah didn’t hesitate.
She yanked Oliver forward, pulling him directly over her lap. His dress fluttered up, the hem flipping over his back, exposing his soft pink panties to the entire room.
Michael’s stomach flipped.
It was the exact same position he had been in not long ago.
Oliver let out a humiliated gasp, struggling for only a moment before Sarah secured an arm around his waist. “You will learn to be neat,” she scolded.
Then—in one swift motion—she yanked Oliver’s panties down to his knees.
Michael flinched.
His breath hitched. His whole body locked up as horrible, horrible recognition washed over him.
Because he knew what was coming.
He remembered the unbearable sting. The way his bottom had burned, how the paddle had cracked against his skin again and again, how he had squirmed and kicked and cried.
And now—Oliver was about to experience the same.
SMACK!
The first spank landed hard, snapping Michael from his thoughts.
Oliver yelped, his hands flying to the floor, his toes curling.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Michael’s breath shuddered.
It looked just like when he had been spanked.
The way Oliver’s bare bottom bounced with each sharp smack. The way his feet flailed. The way his voice cracked into desperate, pitiful wails.
Michael’s fingers dug into his dress.
Oh, God. That’s exactly what he had looked like.
Rebecca chuckled beside him. “She’s precious, isn’t she?”
Michael swallowed hard, his face burning.
Sarah, still spanking steadily, sighed. “Oh, I know she is.”
SMACK! SMACK!
Rebecca leaned in, her voice a soft, teasing whisper in his ear. “Keep coloring, princess.”
Michael couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
But somehow, his fingers found the crayon.
And as Oliver’s wails filled the room, he forced himself—with every ounce of willpower he had left—to lower his head…
Oliver’s spanking came to a bend and he was set back to his coloring with the admonishment to both girls to color inside the lines.
And just when Michael thought it couldn’t possibly get worse—
Rebecca’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
“Alright, girls,” she said sweetly, stretching lazily on the couch. “It’s time for potty.”
Michael froze.
Beside him, Oliver stiffened, his hands clenching the crayon in his grip.
Sarah smiled, sitting forward in her chair. “Oh, yes, it’s been quite a while now, hasn’t it? We certainly wouldn’t want any accidents.”
Sarah smirked, glancing between them. “Who should go first, hmm?”
Michael’s body stiffened.
Rebecca chuckled. “Oh, I think our dear little Olivia should go first, don’t you?”
Michael’s stomach dropped in horror.
Oliver let out a small, strangled whimper.
Sarah patted his head. “Up you go, sweetheart.”
Oliver hesitated for just a second—
Then gasped as Sarah grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet.
Michael watched, mortified, as Oliver stumbled forward toward the potty, his hands twitching at his sides, his entire body trembling with shame.
Oliver whimpered.
Michael could feel the shame radiating off of him.
Sarah simply smiled and reached for the hem of his dress.
Michael’s breath shuddered as she slowly lifted the frilly pink fabric, exposing Oliver’s pale thighs, then the soft pink panties beneath.
Oliver squeaked, his hands trembling at his sides.
Michael couldn’t look away.
Sarah held the dress up high, making sure everyone had a perfect view. Then—without hesitation—she slipped her fingers into the waistband of Oliver’s panties and peeled them down.
Michael’s heart stopped.
The fabric slid slowly, revealing Oliver’s tiny, helpless genitals. His little boy parts—now completely bare, completely vulnerable—were on full display for both nannies to see.
Rebecca smirked, taking a slow sip of her tea.
Michael’s face burned.
His stomach turned.
He could see Oliver’s entire body trembling, his knees pressing together, his hands clenched at his sides as his little privates sat exposed beneath his raised dress.
Sarah tilted her head. “Oh, Olivia,” she teased. “What a modest little thing you are.”
Oliver let out a tiny whimper.
Michael wanted to disappear.
Because he knew.
He knew what Sarah was doing.
She was making sure he watched.
Making sure he saw every second of Oliver’s humiliation.
Making sure he understood that—very soon—
It would be him.
Sarah gave Oliver’s exposed hip a little pat. “Go on, sweetheart. Sit.”
Oliver let out a shuddering breath—then, his body visibly shaking, he lowered himself onto the potty.
The second his bare bottom touched the plastic, Michael felt his own bottom clench in dread.
Sarah kept his dress raised, standing over him like an instructor watching a student perform a task.
Michael couldn’t breathe.
Rebecca glanced at him, smirking. “You’re watching carefully, aren’t you, princess?”
Michael’s stomach twisted violently.
Sarah patted Oliver’s cheek gently. “Now, now, Olivia, you know what happens if you don’t go potty when you’re told.”
And then—after a long, agonizing moment—Michael heard it. A soft, humiliating tinkle. Michael’s stomach turned over. His face burned.
Sarah smiled. “Good girl!”
Michael felt sick.
Rebecca clapped her hands together. “Alright, Olivia. All done! Let’s wipe you up.”
Oliver let out a small, pitiful whimper as Sarah handed him a wet wipe.
Rebecca leaned down toward Michael.
“You’re next, sweetheart.”
Michael’s whole body locked up.
“No,” he whispered.
Rebecca’s smile sharpened.
“What was that, princess?”
Michael knew. Knew if he resisted—if he even hesitated—He’d be over her lap again.
Then—before Rebecca could grab him—Michael forced himself to his feet.
Rebecca smirked, standing up beside him. “There’s my good little girl.”
Michael’s stomach turned.
Rebecca led him to stand right in front of the pink potty chair, facing outwards, positioning him exactly where Oliver had just been moments ago. His eyes darted to Oliver—Olivia—who sat miserably on the rug, his face still red, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his legs pressed primly together beneath his humiliatingly short dress.
Rebecca let out a pleasant sigh. “Now, sweetheart,” she murmured, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders, “you saw how nicely Olivia followed directions, didn’t you?”
Michael swallowed hard. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he choked out.
Rebecca beamed. “Good girl.”
Her fingers brushed down to the hem of his dress.
Michael’s breath hitched.
Then, slowly, deliberately, Rebecca lifted the fabric.
Michael’s stomach sank as his thighs were exposed. Then his pink panties.
Rebecca didn’t stop.
She held his dress high, making absolutely sure there was nothing hidden from view.
Michael shivered.
Rebecca glanced over at Sarah. “Hold this for me, will you?”
Sarah grinned as she stood and took the fabric from Rebecca’s hands, holding the dress high, making sure Michael’s panties—and the way they clung embarrassingly to his form—were completely visible to the entire room.
Michael wanted to die.
Rebecca hummed in approval. “There. Now we can see everything nice and clear.”
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body trembling.
Then—soft fingers slipped into the waistband of his panties.
His breath caught.
And slowly—agonizingly slowly—Rebecca peeled them down.
The fabric inched down his thighs.
And then—Michael let out a miserable whimper as his tiny, helpless genitals were fully exposed for Rebecca, Sarah, and Oliver to see.
Sarah giggled. “Oh, Rebecca, she’s just precious.”
Michael’s face burned hotter than ever before.
Rebecca sighed happily. “Isn’t she, though?”
She kept him there.
Standing.
Exposed.
Panties bunched around his knees.
His little privates completely visible.
Rebecca smoothed a hand down his back, patting his bare hip. “Now, sweetheart,” she said lightly, “I want to make a few things very clear before we continue.”
Michael’s entire body trembled.
Rebecca turned slightly, making sure Sarah and Oliver were watching.
Her fingers brushed lightly against his bare thigh, a silent reminder that he was completely vulnerable.
“A proper young lady does not hesitate when she is told to go potty,” she explained patiently. “She does not make a fuss. She does sit down immediately when instructed, and she does wipe herself properly—every single time.”
Michael’s breath came out in short, panicked gasps.
Rebecca leaned in, her voice softer. “And, my darling, if I ever catch you standing to go potty like a nasty little boy—”
Her fingers gave a sharp smack to the inside of his thigh, making him flinch.
Michael let out a tiny, strangled sound.
Rebecca smirked.
“You’ll find yourself right back over my knee for a very long paddling,” she finished smoothly.
Michael couldn’t breathe.
Sarah chuckled. “She understands, don’t you, princess?”
Michael’s throat tightened.
And then—Rebecca’s hands guided him down.
His bare bottom touched the cold plastic of the potty seat, his legs trembling, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to go.
Sarah smirked, still holding his dress high.
Oliver sat silently, his face bright red, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
Michael’s body locked up.
Rebecca waited.
Sarah waited.
Oliver waited.
Michael wanted to disappear.
But he knew that if he didn’t go, he’d be forced to sit there until he did. He kknew that Rebecca would have no hesitation in bending him right back over her knee if she sensed the slightest bit of resistance.
Knew that Oliver had been forced to do it—and now he had to do the same.
So, with a deep, shuddering breath, Michael let go and a soft, humiliating tinkle filled the room.
Rebecca beamed. “There’s my good little girl.”
The playdate continued in dreadful humiliation, with Michael and Oliver forced to sit primly together on the floor, legs tucked neatly under their frilly dresses as they finished their coloring. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to. Their matching blushes, their identical pink panties peeking from beneath their hems—every moment reinforced that they were both trapped in this nightmare.
Eventually, Sarah decided it was time to take Oliver home.
Michael should have felt relief.
But watching Oliver curtsy to Rebecca, sniffling as she cooed over what a sweet little lady he had been, sent a horrible chill down his spine. Because that meant Michael was now alone again.
Alone.
With Rebecca.
As the door shut behind them, silence filled the room.
Rebecca turned to him, smiling.
“Well, princess,” she said sweetly, stretching her arms, “now that it’s just the two of us again, I think we have a very busy day ahead of us.”
Michael’s stomach dropped.
And she was right.
Michael quickly learned that there was no escaping Rebecca’s discipline.
Every hour brought new humiliations.
He wasn’t just a little girl for the weekend—he was expected to act like one, to learn like one. And Rebecca made sure of it.
Saturday morning, Rebecca tied a frilly pink apron around his waist, guiding him into the kitchen. “A proper little lady should know how to cook,” she informed him as she placed a wooden spoon in his hand.
Michael wanted to argue. But he knew better by now.
He obediently stirred the batter, his bare thighs brushing together beneath his dress, his face burning as Rebecca corrected his posture, making sure he stood gracefully.
When he made a mistake—spilling flour on the counter—he was immediately bent over the table and given ten sharp swats with the paddle.
By the time breakfast was served, his hands were steady, his movements precise, his bottom stinging.
That afternoon, Rebecca sat him down at the coffee table with a small pink sewing kit. “Every young lady should know how to sew,” she purred, handing him a delicate piece of fabric and a needle.
Michael fumbled terribly at first.
And each clumsy mistake?
Earned him a sharp smack to his inner thigh.
By the end of the lesson, his stitches were neat, his hands graceful, his confidence shattered.
Of course, there were many more spankings.
Rebecca always found reasons.
A single moment of hesitation? Over her lap.
Forgetting to curtsy properly? Bent over the chair.
A slight frown on his face? Ten swats on the bare bottom.
By Sunday afternoon, Michael was so conditioned, so thoroughly broken, that he didn’t dare step out of line.
His bottom throbbed constantly.
His face burned with shame.
And the worst part?
He never knew when the next humiliation would come.
By the time Sunday evening arrived, Michael was exhausted—physically, emotionally, completely.
And then—the front door opened.
Michael’s breath hitched.
Rebecca smiled. “Ah. That must be your mommy.”
Michael’s stomach churned.
Rebecca took his wrist, guiding him toward the door. His legs wobbled slightly in his dress, his pink panties snug against his still-stinging bottom.
Mom stepped inside, her suitcase in hand, her eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of him.
“Oh, my sweetheart,” she gushed, pressing a hand to her chest. “You look darling.”
Michael shrank under her gaze, his face hotter than ever.
Then—Rebecca gave his wrist a small squeeze.
Michael knew what she wanted.
His hands trembled. His whole body screamed against it. But he obeyed. Slowly, stiffly, he bent at the knees—lifting the hem of his frilly dress slightly, lowering his head—And curtsied.
Mom beamed. “Oh, Rebecca, you outdid yourself!”
Rebecca chuckled. “Oh, she was an absolute angel by the end of it.”
Michael’s stomach twisted.
Mom stepped forward, brushing his hair back. “Did you learn your lesson, sweetheart?”
Michael’s lips trembled.
And then—so quietly, so miserably—
“…Yes, Mommy.”
Mom grinned. “Good girl.”
Michael’s soul shattered.
And he knew.
This wasn’t over.
Because the next time he misbehaved—
Rebecca would be back.
“At the end of the weekend, he was a different boy—no longer arrogant, but respectful. He knew that a tantrum might bring Rebecca back, and he certainly didn’t want that. Calling Nannies with Fair Discipline was the best decision I ever made.”
Nannies with Fair Discipline
Helping Mothers Restore Order, One Naughty Boy at a Time!
Are you at your wit’s end with your rebellious, ungrateful son? Has he grown defiant, lazy, and disrespectful? Does he scoff at authority, thinking himself too old to be disciplined?
It’s time to remind him who’s in charge.
At Nannies with Fair Discipline, we specialize in correcting behavior and reshaping attitudes with firm, effective discipline. Our most popular program, the Little Girl Package, is designed for boys who need a complete attitude adjustment—and a heavy dose of humility.
The Little Girl Package
What can you expect?
✔ Immediate & Thorough Correction – Your naughty young man will receive a firm, bare-bottom paddling upon arrival to establish authority.
✔ Complete Behavioral Transformation – Your son will no longer act out like an unruly young man—he will be trained to behave with the grace and obedience of a proper young lady.
✔ Proper Attire – To reinforce his new behavior, your son will be dressed in a frilly little dress and pink panties, carefully selected to ensure absolute embarrassment and submission.
✔ Full Potty Training – He will no longer use the toilet like a rude, careless boy. Instead, he will learn to relieve himself like a proper little lady—on a pink potty chair, under strict supervision.
✔ Hands-On Domestic Training – From cooking lessons to sewing practice, he will be taught practical skills befitting a young lady. Any mistakes will be met with immediate correction.
✔ Frequent, Firm Discipline – Hesitation? Paddled. Backtalk? Paddled. Improper curtsy? Paddled. Your son will learn that obedience is non-negotiable.
✔ Structured Playdates – To reinforce his new role, your little princess will be paired with another boy in the Little Girl Package for an afternoon of guided play. Activities include:
- Coloring princess pictures (with a strict emphasis on staying inside the lines).
- Doll play and tea parties to nurture grace and etiquette.
- Shared potty time, where each little girl will take turns using the pink potty under strict supervision.
- Encouraging proper behavior—if one little girl misbehaves, the other watches her receive a bare-bottom spanking to reinforce the importance of obedience.
✔ A Lasting Impact – By the end of his stay, your once-arrogant son will greet you with a deep, graceful curtsy, addressing you with the respect and deference you deserve.
Hear From a Satisfied Mother:
“I thought I had tried everything with my son, but nothing worked—until I called Nannies with Fair Discipline. After one weekend in the Little Girl Package, my once-rebellious boy was completely transformed. When I returned home, he curtsied to me! I’ve never seen such immediate results! If he ever steps out of line again, I know exactly who to call.”
Book Your Session Today!
Don’t let your son’s arrogance go unchecked. Give him the humbling experience he desperately needs.
📞 Call Now to schedule your consultation!
🔗 Visit us at www.nannieswithfairdiscipline.com
Nannies with Fair Discipline – Because Some Boys Need to Be Taken Down a Peg.
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