A little humiliation won't hurt you

[EddieDavidson]

Fanny Clapper - a story about a woman that gets her ass caught in the pet flap

AKA Fanny Slapper

This is a story that has been in my head for a while. I've written some of this wonderful lady in past stories but never captured the jolly way she goes about Runcorn. Most locals call her Fanny Slapper, and aren't that shock when she's getting spanked or in some new predicament.

She's got great massive tits, and an ass but she's not fat, cute smile, two daughters, two sons and lives with her parents Nan and Gaff in a cramped flat with limited privacy.

I base her heavily on Sheridan Smith's character Janet in the wonderful "Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps." If you've not seen it, it's worth watching on Youtube.

I did not stay true to the accent and for good reason. I don't know what the fuck "Lino" is, so I went with an 80/20 rule. 80% Americanized, no UK spellings and 20% British slang if an American can guess what that is.

I have two chapters at the present 10/25 and they will be posted in the next two posts. Then I will start a primative table of contents in this post, because I've no idea how to make a fancy one. I have illustrated this story, it's on Deviant Art.

There is an element of what I'll call slapstick for lack of a better term. Most people know Moe poking someone's eyes out would have possibly blinded them, but it was relatively harmless. This is not a story about abuse, cruelty or rough shitty things.

The story begins with her ass up in a pet flap. It continues with her ass up in a pet flap for quite a bit. It starts raining, a frog jumps on her ass and scares the shit out of her. It's not a sitcom, but I wrote it to be light, have fun with reluctant nudity and included some wedgies and a game I call "Tiggles" which is like tickling but way more of it.


https://www.deviantart.com/godavidson/a ... =published

[EddieDavidson]

“Duht-duht-duht-dught, I am sitting in the morning... At the diner on the corner... I am waiting at the counter... For the man to pour the coffee... And he fills it only halfway.”

I tapped the floor of my parents' terrace flat to the tune of my off-key rendition of Tom’s Diner. I had fuck all to do, and all day to do it. I couldn’t get the bloody earworm out of my head, and I was not going anywhere for a while.

It was not only rainy and overcast, but proper nippy in Runcorn that October afternoon. My tits were resting on the floor mat in the entryway, and I counted my lucky stars that at least I was wearing a sweatshirt when I got trapped trying to shimmy in the pet flap of the flat.

I should have known I didn’t have a chance.

“Gah, the dust down here is unbearable,” I complained to nobody in particular.

“Well dear, if you’d pick up a broom and mop and move it about, I am sure we could clear that right up.”

“Nan?”

“No, it’s the tooth fairy, come to see about whether those braces will come off before you have gray hair, Fanny. Now, why am I looking at you on your knees with your fat arse sticking out of my doorway?”

I heard my mother’s delighted smirk in her voice outside the front door. I blushed and swallowed before responding. The goosebumps on my backside stood up on their own, and a cringe ran down my spine.

“I hurried to the curb to take the rubbish out, the door locked behind me, Nan. I managed to misplace my house keys, and I couldn’t get in the backdoor either”

“That’s the third pair of housekeys you’ve lost this month. I’ll have to talk to your father about this.”

“Great, you can punish me later, mum. Do you want to help me out of this jam?”

“First, I want to know what got you INTO this jam. You were locked out, but how did you get wedged in the pet flap?”

“I didn’t want to try to pop out a window. It was raining and we’ve got no awning. I was soaked to the bone in my trackies and trainers and it was almost tea time so I panicked.”

“ You mean biscuit time,” my mum teased sweetly. “What’s the rest of the story? Did someone stuff you in here to keep you out of the rain?”

“No, mum,” I chuckled. “The whole story is that I noticed the pet flap and thought I could give it a go.”

“The pet flap! With an arse as big as yours?” Mum really had a laugh at that idea.

“You're right,” I admitted to my chagrin. “I got as far as pushing my tits and torso through by holding my breath and squeezing through. I thought I might be able to do the same with my bum.”

“It’s a pet flap for dogs and cats, dear. Not donkeys' arses.”

I rolled my eyes. My mother doesn’t have an ounce of malice in her when she makes fun of my arse, and it’s nothing I haven’t said about myself.

“I realize that now. I thought the worst that might happen is I’d have to back out and try something else. It was the only path in the house and out of the rain. I assumed I could pull out what I put through the door.”

“The fathers of my four grandchildren probably thought the same thing, but they never managed it. Get to the point, Fanny.”

“I would have been able to back out of the pet flap if not for my great, fat jugs weighing me down like two anchors. I was caught midway, tits on the inside, arse on the outside."

My knees were sore from kneeling, and I was hungry. Missing my tea had made me cranky and a bit surly, but I tried to remain hopeful.

“How long have you been out here on the stoop with your sweatpants around your ankles?” she asked with genuine concern in her voice. My mom is quite loving but she can be strict, on everyone except my eldest son Jack. He’s her golden boy that can do no wrong..

“I don’t have a watch or phone, but I am certain I missed tea,” I said, and added an explanation. “Whoever had a laugh and pulled my kecks down around my ankles didn’t say a word.”

“Most people in Runcorn have seen your arse or tits by now, but I do have to think of the neighbors, dear. It’s very unseemly.”

“You could give me a shove through the pet flap?” I suggested while swaying my backside to let her know just how delighted I would be if I were free of my perpetual prison inside our front door.

“Caw, I could never budge that great mound of pudding, Fanny! I’d throw me back out!”

“Nan, you are quite fit, and barely have a single gray hair,” I reminded my mother that for her age she looked quite fantastic. She wasn’t the gray-haired, sweater-wearing granny. Some would say that my mum could be my older sister.

“I could move mountains before I could move those flaps of yours through the flap of that door, I’ll tell you that.”

“Don’t be cheeky, Nan,” I blushed. “I hope my flaps aren’t hanging out. Would you at least pull my kecks back up and give me a little modesty until Gaff gets home? He’s got tools. He might be able to get me out.”

“Your father is a repairman, you need some lotion and a good diet, Fran. Everyone from Halton to the Pig and Whistle has seen your flaps, I’d imagine, and what’s between. You definitely don’t need modesty.”

I was about to say something, when my mother added, “But I’ll help you, my love.”

“Thank you….rrgreerreghhrr!!” I stammered in sheer agony as I felt my mum hike my knickers straight up my sweaty ass crack and pull up.

“Brilliant, I’ve pulled them up,” she admired her handiwork while I pleaded with her to pull them back out of my bum.

“Better I do it than some neighborhood hooligan that hiked your sweatpants down, dear. Though perhaps they were trying to help keep you from catching cold.”

My mum yanked my sweatpants completely off and left me exposed, barefoot, with only a thong of my pink strawberry panties to protect my bits from the naked eye.

“I’ll just dash around back and hang these up for you on the line and let them dry. Then I’ll pop in through the back door and start a kettle of tea.”

Yet, Mum took her sweet time coming in the back door, and it started raining again. I knew there was a joke in there somewhere.

“Raindrops keep falling on my bum,” I sang off-key to the tune of an old B.J. Thomas song. Even I couldn’t stand my own shrill singing, but I kept singing while rain came down on my back from the sky and the gutters positioned just over my back.

I smiled and carried on singing. “And just like the gal whose fat arse is too big to wiggle out of the pet flap, nothing seems to fit. Those raindrops are falling on my arse, they keep falling...”

“Look at what that silly cow has done now, Saff,” my eldest laughed hysterically.

“Glad I could amuse you, Baps.”

Her birth name was Barbara, but she took Baps as a nickname before she started sprouting her own big balloons. Women in the Capper family mostly have huge tits, big arses, and few brains.

Baps is a great example.

“How did you pull this one off, Mum?” Baps asked. I heard not only my youngest, Saffy, trying to stifle her tittering at my expense, but her twin brother Simon having a laugh as well.

“It’s a bit of a long story, and it’s raining, Baps. Can you three put your backs into it and give me a shove?”

“Sure, Mum! We got you. Don’t worry about the rain one bit. We have our galoshies and umbrellies out.”

Suddenly, three pairs of hands grabbed me from behind. There was no thought for modesty at all. I felt Baps pulling while Saffy pushed.

“Simon, are you spreading my butt cheeks?”

“Um, yes, Mum,” Simon answered dumbly. He’s book-smart, loves Star Wars and anime, but he has even less common sense than I have, and that’s saying something.

Baps momentarily paused pulling my arse out of the flap. Saffy paused pushing me through. Simon continued to hold my cheeks apart even wider. The other girls giggled.

“How is that getting me out of this predicament, Simon?” I asked calmly. It wasn’t the first time they saw my bum, nor would it be the last. Privacy is at a premium in our three-bedroom flat. It’s Simon and his older brother Jack to their room, my mom and dad have the master, and the smallest room somehow wound up being shared by me and my two daughters. This is all with one bathroom between us.

“It’s not,” he said as if he had lost the plot and thought it was a free-for-all grab Mummy’s cottage cheese and pull as you like.

“Are you trying to read a map, or see what I had for my breakfast?” I joked. I have a wry, self-effacing humor, probably because there are so many ways that people can laugh at me, I’d feel left out if I didn’t at least chuckle now and again.

“No!” he said while pulling my cheeks to maximum wideness like my buttocks were a great taffy pull. “I know you had what you always have, a tin of biscuits.”

“I don’t eat just biscuits for breakfast.”

“Mum, we are looking right in your fudge factory, and I think it’s a tin of biscuits,” Baps could barely pretend she was serious as she broke into a snicker.

I could just imagine my eldest standing there with her hands on her hips, looking down at my piehole as she had a laugh at my expense. Dark eyeliner around her big brown eyes because she’s going through a bit of a Bamber Glam Bimbo Goth phase.

Chubby cheeks on face and bum just like all the Capper women have, thick hips, heavy melons wrapped in a crop top, high-waisted pleated plaid purple and black skirt like she wore in sixth form, and combat boots with a raincoat and Hello Kitty umbrella.

Saffy’s short hair is brown and curly like her twin brother. They have the same pug nose and chubby cheeks like her older sister and me. She’s developed some big heavy jugs of her own, Kermit the Frog-themed rain jacket and Miss Piggy umbrella, with thick rubber rain boots. She probably wore something simple like bike shorts and a tank top under it despite the chill today.

Simon’s a bit of a butterball, so he has little room to tease me about biscuits. Round glasses, his favorite rugby team shirt, jeans, rain slickers, and Danger Mouse umbrella.

Not being able to see the three of them cutting up and carrying on over my latest humiliating escapade didn’t make me cringe and blush any less.

“Will you at least stop stretching my cheeks so far apart, Simon? Raindrops are dropping in my rose hole, and my panties are soaked.”

“Which one is the rose hole?” Saffy asked dumbly about my anatomy.

“That’s easy, Sis! I’ll show you,” Baps explained. I hadn’t been able to beg for her not to carry on when she stretched my panties all the way out to the side of my hip and tapped me on the arsehole. “This is the rose hole.”

I was stunned and mortified at the same time. My jaw popped open in utter shock as the butt of her joke.

She tapped the crinkle of my sphincter and caused it to pucker while stretching out one of my favorite pairs of undies. “See how it puckers up like a rosebud?”

“Awwwwwwwwwwww,” Simon and Saffy oohed and aahed at their older sister's explanation like my butthole was a magic trick.

“This is the tulip hole,” Baps turned her attention to my pussy and explained like an airheaded stewardess talking about my vagina like it was an inflatable flotation device.

“Please don’t,” I stammered.

“Oh, it’ll only take a minute and your panties weren’t hiding them anyway,” my daughter smacked my bum playfully before taking hold of my hang-down on either side like she was about to milk me from the vagina.

“It’s called a tulip hole because there are two lips. One,” she yanked the labia on the left and held it stretched taut to bring home the point. I was thankful at least that I’d shaved recently.

“Two!” she held the pussy lip she had recently pulled and called one, and then pulled my other one equally as far as the first to even them out.

“They are like lampshades, then?” Simon was in awe.

“This isn’t an anatomy lesson, Baps. Please unhand my pussy flaps,” I said, realizing too late that I had unintentionally rhymed my demand, which automatically made it sound like I was joking about.

“Baps and her pussy flaps,” Saffy pointed and laughed at her older sister.

“Saffy Capper, meet the pussy slapper,” Baps let go of my goodies, only to directly connect the palm of her hand with what I can only assume was Saffy’s crotch.

“OW! Your name rhymes with slapper, too,” Saffy reminded her sister, and I heard the two scuffle and bicker a bit on the sidewalk, but no more slaps.

All the while, my hang-downs weren’t as stretched as they were before the impromptu lesson in what girls have downstairs, but they hadn’t snapped back. My panties were yanked to the side as far as they could go, and I was truly mortified, much more than normal.

Nan chose that precise moment to walk in the back door. “Oh, there you are, Fanny,” my mum said as she walked briskly toward me, holding up a finger.

“Were you outside this whole time looking for me?” I frowned.

“No, why would I be? You are stuck in the pet flap, dear,” she reminded me as if I hadn’t noticed. “I ran into Mrs. Davidson outside at the line, and we started gossiping. I told her all about your mishap and how you lost the house key.”

She was about to tell me something else when she heard the girls bickering outside over the ownership of a particular blouse in our shared closet.

“Girls? Girls, is that you?” my mum asked as if she didn’t know full well it was them.

“I am in the pet flap, Mum. I am not blocking the peephole in the door,” I frowned.

“If I wanted to see who is at the door, I’d just open this window,” she said as she slid the window up and pulled the curtain open to tell them to come in out of the rain.

“The window was unlocked this whole time?” I asked with a tinge of regret over my choice of entry.

“Simon, you come in as well. You’ll catch cold. I’ll put a kettle on, and we can have a spot of tea while we wait for Jack and Gaff.”

“Grandpa can get Mum’s fat arse and tulips out of the jam she’s in,” Simon assured no one in particular. “Gaff can fix anything.”

For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve never known if my father’s real name is Gaff, but that’s what everyone calls him. It’s even stitched on the name tag of his work shirts.

“Yes, I am sure if your grandpa doesn’t stop at the pub for a pint or two, he’ll be along shortly and free Fanny. Now, come around to the back door and don’t dally.”

The wind picked up, and the rain started to come down a bit harder. My ass cheeks began to clap on their own, much to my deep shame.

“But Nan, I want to see if Mum’s tulips start to clap back and forth like her butt cheeks are,” Simon pleaded like he wanted to stay and complete a science experiment.

“It’s raining far too hard out there, Simon. Come around to the back door, dry off, hug your Nan, and have a lovely hot cuppa. Your mum’s butt cheeks flap whenever she has a jog, you’ll see it again.”

It might have sounded mean, but in my mother’s erudite, nurturingly smooth Kensington accent, she sounded nothing but concerned for his welfare and it registered more as an observation of truth than a put-down.

“You are the best, Nan,” Simon cheered and dashed off, while daring his sisters to race him around the row houses we lived in.

“Wait, will someone pull my panties back in place? I can’t reach,” I held up my arms inside the flat in frustration.

It was too late. They were off, and either they ignored me, or the sound of their boots sloshing in the mud puddles that formed on the sidewalks drowned me out.

The flats on Speakman in Runcorn were built way back in the booming 1890s for the tradesmen working to construct the Manchester Ship Canal.

The gutters and plumbing haven’t been updated or maintained so well, nor is the sidewalk level. Grit and muck were starting to form around my poor red knees while I endured the chilly rain gusts spraying my backside.

“Mum, what about me?”

“Don’t mewl and whine, dear, it’s embarrassing,” my mother observed un-ironically. That was the least embarrassing thing of what happened to me today.

“A little rain won’t hurt you, and frankly, I’d imagine the cool rain on your backside feels a bit like going to a spa and having a colonic.”

“Mum, this is so humiliating!” I pressed.

“A little humiliation won’t hurt you, either, Fanny. You’ve no doubt been humiliated quite a lot in your many years on this earth, and you are still alive to see another day. There won’t be any foot travel while the rain keeps up, so you are upset about nothing. You’ll dry, and I’ll have a nice warm cuppa waiting for you when your father gets home and wedges you out of that flap. In the meantime, you are half completely dry and you’ll be able to talk to the rest of us from down by the door stopper.”

“Peachy, Mum, everything is just coming up roses,” I frowned as I watched Baps, Saffy, and Simon come in through the back door and drip rainwater on the floor as they crossed the kitchen to the door to hang up their slickers and rain boots. I noticed I was almost spot on about what I thought they wore underneath.

“Coming up rose holes, Mum,” Simon got in a clever quip as he stood over me dripping his Mackintosh on my head. It was clearly meant in jest, and it was hard not to chuckle a bit while the others giggled and undid their wet boots at the bristly doormat that I had been resting my tits and chin on until it soaked up the excess wet muck like a sponge.

[flyingmonk]

Splendid

[EddieDavidson]

thank you! Hard at work on chapter 3,. I am hoping the boner goes down soon because I am at work.

Is anyone else getting shitty constant "protect unsafe" warnings if they even click on a post?