Maternal Matrimony V

 "DREAMS AND AWAKENINGS" ["Maternal Matrimony" #5] by the Crimson Kid
 

(All rights reserved. This story's setting is several hours following "MM" #4, still at the McMichael residence in Yamamoto on the planet Vladivost, mid-28th century.)
 

At some level of his awareness, Carlton knew that he dreaming--yet the dream, which was a re-enactment of a critical situation in his recent existence, still felt vividly compelling...
 

{He was on the bridge of his Starfleet medical rescue craft, approaching the isolated mining settlement on the largely-uninhabited continent of Zhukov just inside Vladivost's north polar zone. The spacecraft was slowing down as he had ordered, while he was in audio subspace contact with Starbase Seventeen.}
 

{"We haven't much time," Carlton informed Commodore Lavinia Treadwell, the starbase's acting commander at the time. "We'll have to start treating those Kelvaron-exposed settlers within thirty-two minutes at the latest, or it will be too late."

"Thirty minutes now, commander," Ensign Yolanda Lansford stated softly, while standing behind his bridge command chair, "Based on their report of when the Kelvaron deposit was exposed by the landslide."}
 

{"The purification drones," Carlton asked the commodore pointedly, "When will they reach the surface?" He and his medical team were wearing standard radiation-proof armor, but it was only 15% effective against the overpoweringly deadly emanations from pure Kelvaron.

"Engineering doesn't know," Commodore Treadwell's voice explained, sounding intermittent and faint, "Because ionic interference is scrambling the telemetry from the drones, and it may be affecting the guidance systems too. The drones were launched as soon as they were programmed and equipped to neutralize Kelvaron radiation--but that took some time, I'm afraid."}
 

{"The interference is affecting our communications also, sir," Ensign Lansford interjected, "We could lose contact at any time."

"Damn!" Carlton stood up, his body shaking with barely-controlled frustration, and realized that a critical decision was imminent.

"We're approaching the point to begin our planetary descent, sir," announced Petty Officer Landon Bakken, the ship's helmsman.

"Stand by, commander," Commodore Treadwell's static-disrupted voice ordered, "We're patching Admiral McMichael through, from the surface."}
 

{Rebecca, normally Starbase Seventeen's commanding officer, was then temporarily on detached duty; she was representing Starfleet at a psychological conference being held in the Vladivostian cultural center of Montgomery.

"Acknowledged, ma'am--and thank you." Carlton was about to risk his life, so he appreciated a last moment of conversation with his beloved wife.}
 

{"Carlton, sweetheart, don't do anything rash yet--understand me?" Although heavily disrupted by ion-induced static, Rebecca's voice was clearly recognizable.

"Rebecca honey, if I don't make it back--" he began, but she interrupted sharply.

"Just wait, please! If I can just get some technical information for you, there may be time enough--" her voice was engulfed in a loud burst of sizzling static.

"It'll take eight minutes to get to the surface, sir," Ensign Lansford told Carlton. "Every minute means additional radiation damage for the settlers down there. Our shielding armor should keep us safe, shouldn't it?"}

{Before Carlton could answer, truthfully or evasively, Rebecca's subspace-carried voice briefly penetrated the ionic interference.

"Darling, hold up! The pu--"

The static crescendoed at that point, drowning out any further communication.

"Holding position above the mining area," Petty Officer Bakken stated curtly.

"Commander Kristain?" Ensign Lansford's voice held an urgent undertone.}
 

At that point, the dream diverged from the actual chronology of Carlton's incredibly-altered life...
 

{As he struggled to voice a decision, even knowing already what that decision would be and that he would be undertaking a potentially life-threatening sacrifice, Carlton felt a sudden incessant itching on the surface of his hindquarters. He wondered if the sensation was meant as a foreshadowing of the childish, bare-bottomed chastisements that his impending action would ultimately result in him undergoing--for that sensation hadn't happened in the real-life situation that his dream had, until that point, perfectly re-enacted.}

{Carlton reached back towards his buttocks, intending to remove his protective armor's lower-body section in order to scratch his intensely-itching posterior, when he realized that his two medical crewmates were staring quizzically at him while awaiting his orders. Certainly he couldn't begin clawing his fingernails into the irritably-tingling flesh of his asscheeks in front of his military subordinates--yet his hands continued to steadily move backward and downward...}
 

"Carltie dear, don't do that!" Rebecca's voice was clear and static-free.

Drowsily awakening from his slumber, Carlton became cognizant that his body was that of a five-year-old boy rather than a Starfleet officer--and that his wife-turned-guardian's hands were gripping his wrists tightly.

"Duh-uhh-do whuh-ut, Rebecca...uhhh, Mommy?" He also realized that the annoyingly-sharp itching sensation was still centered on his boyish behind, and that he had rolled onto his stomach while reaching back to scratch his prickling-hot, flannel-covered fanny.
 

"Don't try to scratch your buns, even though they're itching intensely," Rebecca told her recently-rejuved new ward. "The nanolotion's just been activated, and the quick-healing chemistry produces a strong itching effect--but your bottom's too sore for you to scratch it without risking damage to your skin."

"But it's so irritating," Carlton whined plaintively, "It just itches so much!" "Sit up, sweetie," his wife/guardian told him gently, picking up a cup of lukewarm liquid from his bedstand. "This herbal tea will help you, so drink it all down."
 

"What's in it?" He slowly sat up, his hips squirming with discomfort.

"It's distilled from a native plant," she explained, carefully handing him the cup. "Use both hands, please."

"Native Vladivostan plant?" Carlton's small hands encircled the cup, and he began to sip the moderately-heated tea--it tasted slightly tart with a tangerine flavor.

"It's brewed from Siberoot, which is grown mostly on the Meese Plateau, and it has two almost-immediate results--it partially numbs sensory effects, especially on the drinker's skin, and it's also strongly soporific." Rebecca sat down on the edge of the junior bed.

Carlton finished gulping down the pleasant-tasting drink, then put the cup back on his stand.
 

"It would be interesting to analyze the plant's biochemistry," he mused, "To see what enzymes it secretes to produce those effects on humans."

To his surprise, Rebecca began to laugh lightly while regarding him wryly.

"What's so damned funny about that idea?" Carlton demanded, feeling confused.

"Language, young man!" She shook her finger playfully at him. "That's one of the behavior rules, by the way, that you'll be receiving tomorrow--but I won't punish you 'ex post facto' for it now." She smiled affectionately. "Don't be offended, honey, but it's rather amusing to hear a five-year-old boy proposing biochemical analysis of his drink, rather than just reacting to its taste." She tenderly ruffled his soft blond hair.
 

"Well, I'm still a medical officer," Carlton responded, "In my own inner perception, anyway."

"But you're physically a young child," Rebecca reminded him, "Pretty much emotionally, too." She gently guided his boyish body into a prone position on the bed, then pulled the bedcovers over him as Carlton laid his head on the plumped-up pillow.

"Thanks, Mommy--it feels better already." The itching sensation upon his recently-strapped rump had diminished to a slight tingling, and he began drifting into slumber.

"Sleep tight, darling boy," his new guardian murmured quietly, "Tomorrow's going to be a humbling, bottom-blazing experience for you, as your one-time daughter's planned it."
 

Cartlton did rest peacefully from that point on, until he was abruptly awakened by his new big sister nine hours later.

"Carltie, it's time to rise and shine," Nantessa announced in a singsong voice, gently shaking his shoulders. "Your bare buns are going to rise after every swat from my paddle, and they'll be shining a candy-apple red by the time I'm finished smacking them!"

"Oh, Nannie..." He drowsily sat up, feeling somewhat confused, then noticed that she was gripping the rounded handle of a rectangular-headed poplar paddle in her right hand--its smooth striking surface was almost 6"x 4" in size, with rounded edges, and it was three-eighths of an inch thick. The ash blonde wood had some scarlet lettering on its surface, but Carlton couldn't read it clearly with his blurrily-focusing vision.
 

"Time for your wake-up paddling, little boy." She slapped the paddle sharply against her left palm--Whap! "This is the start of a new family tradition with my new baby brother, so let's get your chubby bumcheeks bared for your first morning paddywhacking from me." She tittered cheerily. "But hardly your last, that's for certain."

"Oh, but Nannie, I'm so sore from yesterday..." But even as he finished the statement, he realized that it wasn't true--his posterior didn't feel even moderately tender, beyond the normal sensitivity of a five-year-old's behind.

"Tell me another one, Carltie," Nantessa scoffed condescendingly, sitting on the side of his low bed--she seated herself almost exactly where her mother had done likewise the night before, immediately prior to strapping Carlton's boyish bare behind. "Just lie across my lap right now, and let's see how sore your dishonest little bare fanny really is."
 

Carlton started to protest, but he quickly realized that it would have the same effect with Nantessa that it had always had with Rebecca--his spanking would simply be extended and intensified.

"But, oh...Yes, Miss Nantessa."

"Quickly, naughty brother." Nantessa set the paddle down behind her.

Leaning forward, he got onto his hands and knees then awkwardly crawled onto his big sister's lap. She settled him into optimal punishment-recieving position just as she'd observed her mother do dozens of times when he'd still been her father, sliding his torso forward by right-handedly pressing his derriere upward while pushing his head downward with her left hand.

Feeling highly vulnerable with his backside upturned and aware that he was facing an imminent bare-bottomed paddling, Carlton struggled to fight back childish sobs. Once his sleepers' seat flap was unbuttoned and lowered by his girlish disciplinarian, the cool air making his plump exposed buttocks shiver, he couldn't hold them back any longer.

"Uhhhhh...wahuhhhhh...Ahhuhhhh..." Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes, as his five-year-old body again betrayed his adult consciousness.

"Don't cry, Carltie--not yet, anyway--because I've got good news." Nantessa reached back with her right hand, picking up the wooden paddle. "Your bare buns are pure white and tender as a baby's bottom--that nanolotion really does work miracles, doesn't it?" She gently pressed the paddle's smooth striking surface against the base of his pristinely-pale posterior, then rubbed it lightly across both chubby cheeks in a circular pattern.

"Don't worry, they'll be back to bright glowing red long before I'm finished paddling them, baby boy. Before we start, would you like to read this spanking paddle's inscription, Carltie?" Momentarily shifting the chastisement implement to her left hand, Nantessa leaned leftward to hold its smooth varnished top in front of her sibling spankee's face.
 

Through already-tearing eyes Carlton focused his vision on the thick scarlet lettering--"SIBLING SEAT-SIZZLER: FOR APPLYING SOUND SISTERLY SPANKINGS TO BARE BABY-BROTHERLY BUMCHEEKS!"

"Vuh-Very ah-alliteratuh-tive, ma'am," he stammered, thinking about the other side of the solid-looking paddle--the surface that would be blisteringly visiting and revisiting his elevated naked asscheeks.

"I thought you'd appreciate it, naughty child." Sitting up straight and encircling Carlton's waist with her left arm after shifting the paddle back to her right hand, Nantessa eagerly lifted the solid paddle high over her shoulder; her own gluteal globes pressed down against the bed as she took chastising aim at Carlton's invitingly-framed, quivering round buttcheeks. "NOW you can bawl for real, brother dear!"

Then she swung the paddle downward, forcefully and accurately, and continued to do so for what her bare-bottomed brother felt was almost an eternity...
 

SMACK!! WHACK!! CRACK!! SMACK!! WHAP!! SMACK!! CRACK!! WHACK!!

As Carlton vainly twisted his hips and kicked his legs, Nantessa cheerfully walloped his plump, rapidly-reddening rear end with her specialty-ordered, Penitatas-rated wooden paddle. As she alternated from one blazing-hot bare buttock to another, focusing her stinging swats on his sensitive undercheek areas, her young sibling's wails merged into one continuing long, childish "Waaahaaahaaaaahhaaaa" while his upturned naked nether cheeks bounced merrily with every resounding smack of the hardwood impacting against them.

Grinning girlishly, Nantessa wished that the 'woodshed session' would never end--which is exactly how it seemed to her babyishly blubbering new little brother.

Sleeping meant flashback dreams and awakening meant bare-bottomed wake-up sessions with Nannie's rump-plastering paddle--for the foreseeable future, Carlton realized dimly while his tears continued flowing...