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Tuesday, October 27

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     Today was going to be a big day.

     Jessie’s volleyball team was going to be facing their rivals, the Baxter Middle School Ravens. Ever since she was a kid, Marcus had normally been pretty good about attending her sporting events, especially important games like tonight’s. It was pretty easy to prioritize supporting his daughter since she was his only family. But ever since shrinking beyond normal size, Marcus hadn’t felt as comfortable going to her matches. The last time he attended one was only a couple weeks after receiving his diagnosis. He had shrunken to just over 5 feet tall at the time, but going out to support her was more nerve-wracking than he was expecting. He hadn’t been too small to cause anyone to stare or suspect he might have a growth disorder, but the only people in the auditorium who had been shorter than him were babies and young children. He recalled seeing one of his old co-worker’s family at the game, and even their 4th grade son was as tall as Marcus. And then to realize that almost all of Jessie’s teammates were taller than him? That was the final nail in the coffin. He knew he couldn’t swear off public appearances forever, but at the time he had decided to abstain from attending Jessie’s games until he was more comfortable in his body. And luckily, his loving and supportive daughter had completely understood.

     He sat back now, watching her stuff Cheerios in her mouth while an apple and pear stood waiting nearby. “I still feel bad about not going though. And you wouldn’t even let me make you breakfast!” he chuckled.

     “Coach said that I—“ she started, but milk started spilling from the sides of her lips and Marcus interrupted her.

     “Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” he sternly noted, and she giggled at her accident, waiting to finish chewing her food before swallowing and speaking up again.

     “Coach said we should load up on carbs and fruits,” she explained, before spooning some more cereal in her mouth. “It was either this or a bagel,” she added, tilting her head back slightly this time so nothing would spill out from her mouth as she talked. Marcus rolled his eyes at her attempt to bypass his parenting, but still smiled at her stubbornness anyhow.

     “Yeah, I guess your coach would know more about that than me. Sounds like the same advice I got before games when I was in school.” He continued to sit, alternating between watching Jessie eat and glancing at the morning news that he had running on the TV in the background. Eventually she finished eating, and sat back, mirroring his posture. She let out a burp, satisfied with all she had eaten. He gave her a look that seemed to say Seriously? which made her blush and bite her lip. 

     Then she started to look her father up and down, and it was obvious to Marcus that she was thinking about his size for some reason. “Do you think you’ll ever wanna come to one of my games again? Like not just for the rest of the season, but next year too, or when I start playing in high school.”

     “It’s not that I don’t want to come,” he sighed. “You know how much I used to go before this year.” She nodded understandingly. “I just get uncomfortable with the way people look at me in public. I’m clearly too small to be normal sized for someone my age. Ironically, if I was super small, like some of the extreme cases out there, I’d probably be more OK with going. I’d be a lot less obvious if I was only a couple inches tall, so there might not be as many people staring. I could just perch myself in the shirt pocket of someone there.”

     “Like who?”

     Marcus shrugged, “I don’t know, it doesn’t really matter. One of your friends or your teammates’ parents.”

     “I don’t think being supervised by my friends would be a good idea,” she said with a smirk, thinking of how some of her friends liked to act. “Most of them would probably pass you around or try to show you off.”

     He took a deep breath in and loudly exhaled, “Well, I’m glad I’m not that tiny anyways, life would be a lot more difficult.”

     “Or I could sneak you into my gym bag and you could watch from there,” she continued, ignoring his attempt to change subjects. “Except you’d have to spend the whole day with me at school.” She was right about that. Past a certain height, people with DSD weren’t allowed to drive by themselves for safety reasons. They needed a second person in the car in case of emergencies, like when first-time drivers have an instruction permit. And since Jessie wasn’t old enough to drive and they were a two-person household, that likely meant he’d have to stay with her throughout the day just to see one of her evening matches. He crinkled his nose at the idea, I love her, but I don’t know if I’d be fine with spending almost 10 hours in a backpack just to watch her play volleyball. Maybe just once a month or something. “But I could cut out a little hole in the side, and then glue like, plastic over the top,” she went on, starting to really get lost in the fantasy now. “Then you could have your own little compartment and be able to see out of it and watch me play. Cuz if you were just sitting on the top of my bag without anyone watching you, someone might just try and take you. But if you were actually in the bag, people could only see you from the side if they got up really close. You’d be like a hidden camera or something.”

     What would be worse, actually? Being in her backpack, but having to spend almost the whole day in there, or having to only spend a couple hours in her gym bag, but then I could be surrounded by all her dirty clothes? “Yeah, I don’t know how much I’d like that,” he admitted. “I know you wash your clothes a lot, but still… I can’t imagine a gym bag having a particularly pleasant smell.” He remembered when she came back from the park on Sunday and accidentally threw her socks on his face. And that was from a day that she had spent mostly indoors. God, he hated the smell of feet.

     She stood up now, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, like you said, it doesn’t really matter. Luckily you’re not that tiny so we don’t have to worry about that.”

     He sighed and stood up too, “You’re right. And to answer your original question… yes. I do think I’ll want to come to one of your games again. But I’m still at a point where a lot of stuff just feels new. Like when you had some friends over this weekend; that was the first time you’ve had several people over in awhile. And it was fine, I’m glad you had fun, it’s just about taking it slow.”

     She smiled down to him, “I understand.” She turned and started heading back to her room to finish getting ready for school. “I’m not superstitious,” she called back, “I know our team won’t do better or worse depending on if you come.” And as she turned the corner into her room and shut the door, Marcus went back to watching the morning news, glad that he had raised his daughter to be sensible and understanding of him.

*    *    *    *    *    *

     Jessie and her dad were about to arrive at school to drop her off when Marcus got another idea, still feeling tinges of guilt over not attending her game tonight. It wasn’t even the first match of hers he’d missed since shrinking, but it was still the biggest game of the season. And he wouldn’t be there. “How’d you like it if I brought you a lunch again today?” She was biting her nails while scrolling through Instagram, but looked up and over at her dad now upon hearing his offer.

     “I already made a lunch this morning,” she laughed. “I mean I’m glad you offered, but like you should’ve offered before we left or before I made anything.” Wait, duh. Of course she already made a lunch, why would she expect me to make one for her? “Buuuuuut… if you wanna make lunch for me every daaayyy…” she practically sang, looking over at him with big, puppy dog eyes. 

     “Sure!” he enthusiastically replied, glancing at her with a grin. Her face took on a more serious look, her mouth slightly open in shock.

     “Wait, are… you being sarcastic?” she asked.

     “No, I’m serious,” he smiled. “It was good to have a little task break in the middle of my day yesterday,” he answered. “And then it won’t have to sit in your backpack for a couple hours. I don’t really think a couple hours would really change how it tastes anyways, but still. I’d be glad to do it for you.”

     Her heart lit up at the amount of sheer affection her dad displayed for her. When he first started shrinking, and especially after he got let go from his job, she had really expected his mood to take a turn for the worst, possibly for several months. But over the last couple of weeks, he seemed to really be feeling better. She remembered the day he lost his job, when she’d come home to find him passed out after having drank too much. Seeing her dad like that broke her heart, and Jessie became legitimately worried he might develop some kind of alcohol addiction. Which is why she did her best to spend more time with him over the next few days and give him things to do. But between taking her to and from school, braiding her hair occasionally, or that one time he helped her clean her room; he seemed to be getting better compared to where his emotional state used to be. And of course, she didn’t mind the extra time he was dedicating to her now because of it, most of his productivity throughout the day was in some way related to helping her out as well. “Can you bring me some trail mix though for after school? I usually don’t remember to pack snacks, and I hate mooching off of other people before the game.”

     “Yeah, of course,” he said as they pulled up to the drop-off zone. “I’ll bring some by plus some more fruit around lunch and drop it off again like yesterday.”

     “Perfect! Thank you so much,” she said, leaning over and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

     “Make sure to remind Sarah’s mom again that I’m picking you up from now on,” he told her, and she nodded as she got out of the car. “Good luck tonight, I’ll be here to pick you up around 7:45.”

     “Thanks, see ya!” she said, closing the car door, and ran off as he drove away.

*    *    *    *    *    *

     Marcus was waiting outside the school as the games finished up for the night. Normally the last matches would end a little after 7:30, but he knew that Jessie usually liked to help clean up and hang out with her friends for a little while before leaving. He had texted her that he was here, but hadn’t received any messages back yet, and as he watched families begin to leave the gym, he knew the games were over. Maybe she just forgot to check her phone again like when I picked her up last week, he wondered, but stayed staring at the doors either way. He noticed some of the girls from the other team were beginning to leave, and a few too many of them were talking excitedly with their families or donning smiles on their face. I hope that’s not a bad sign, he thought. Suddenly he saw Jessie make her way out of the gym, her head held down, heading straight for the car. Uh-oh. With a grimace on his face, he hopped out and made his way around to the front of the car, hoping he’d be able to at least give her a hug like they had last week and hopefully make her feel better. But as she approached the vehicle, she didn’t even look up at him, and silently walked right by his hopeful, smiling face. He watched her throw her backpack and gym bag into the back seat, slamming the door closed. It even made him jump a little as he heard it. He walked back around to his driver’s side door and got back in just as Jessie angrily shut the her passenger door too. 

     Jessie was a bright, happy kid. She didn’t usually get angry. It was so rare growing up, in fact, that he didn’t quite know how to handle when she was mad. Maybe one of those teen parenting books would’ve been useful to read in the last couple years. Usually his solution was to just give her space, knowing her attitude would often fix itself with enough time. And that pretty much always worked. It was pretty rare that he felt inclined to punish her because of her behavior, but it wasn’t uncommon. She had never quite had a long-term “rebellious phase” as other people put it, but she was still young enough that he still expected it might come in the future. And it was a fear of his that only grew after shrinking down to half his daughter’s height. As he started the car up, he watched as she pried her shoes off with her heels, then dug her toes into her long, black athletic socks and slipped those off too. Then she whipped her legs up on the dash, crossing her legs and her arms as she started out her passenger window. He noticed the shimmer of her sweat was still fresh along her calves, her calves that were now resting on his leather dashboard and getting some of her perspirant on it.

     “I know you’re mad Jess,” he said quietly, “but you know I don’t like you putting your legs up there like that. It’s dangerous.”

     “I don’t care, let’s just go home,” she muttered, not even turning to look at him. He didn’t want to argue with her here in the car, and knew she probably just needed some time to cool down. So he decided to just let her be for the moment and address it later when they got home. But as he glanced at her reddened, sweaty bare feet pressing against the windshield, and realized the glass surrounding her toes was starting to fog up from their heat, he got a sickly feeling that he was gonna have a tough night ahead of him.

*    *    *    *    *    *

     Marcus pulled into the garage, and Jessie got out of the car before it had even pulled to a full stop. He pursed his lips, feeling bad about the obvious outcome of her game as she stomped her way inside the house. But he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt as well. I know that me attending doesn’t have any impact on whether they win or lose. I know that. But she was still alone out there tonight. And the only reason is because I don’t have the confidence to show up. He made his way inside, and spotted his daughter in the kitchen looking in the fridge. Then she backed away, and he heard her set a glass down on the counter and close the door. She was probably parched after hours of playing. She had a tendency to use up all of the water in her water bottle relatively early on in the evening and then forget to fill it up, so on her rides home she’d never have anything to drink. And hours of aggressive running, jumping, and diving had really heated her up. 

     The garage door closed behind Marcus, and she glanced back at him, taking the glass over to the sink now and filling it up with water. He could hear her hungrily gulp the water down, needing to refill it immediately. But she took this second glass with her and walked over to her dad, her slick bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. She lifted the glass up again to her mouth and began gulping the water so much he could hear her throat as the liquid sloshed its way down. She stopped directly in front of her dad, so that he had to crane his neck up to look at her, just as she finished drinking her water. Her skin still looked a bit damp, the car ride home not providing enough time for her pores to cool off. “Do you wanna take a shower?” he asked, noticing the the smell of sweat she was emitting from standing so close. He was hoping she’d say yes, but he knew she probably didn’t walk over to him just to tell him that.

     Jessie shook her head, “I’ll take one later, but I wanted to know if you’d—“ BURRRP “—rub my back again like you did last week?” He knew her back would be significantly sweatier than last Thursday when he’d rubbed it after her game, but he wanted to improve her mood. Although he would’ve given her a back rub even if she hadn’t lost or if she hadn’t even played a game, because he loved her.

     “Yeah, of course honey,” he said, and she smiled at him. It was a weak smile, still sore from her loss, but appreciative nonetheless for his willingness to help. She put her glass down on the counter and led the way to their couch, and sat down with her back to the side of the couch, just like the week before. Then her dad climbed up behind her and sat down on the armrest, so he could reach her upper back easier. He gingerly reached his hands out and set them on her shoulders, instantly registering the warm dampness of her shirt. It wasn’t all the way wet, at least; it was warm but it wasn’t quite hot. He was glad that enough time had lapsed since her game that he wasn’t being completely grossed out by the sweat (and faint smell). 

     But without wasting any more time, he dug his thumbs into her shoulder blades, squeezing his hands around the curves of her shoulders. “Auughh, thank you,” Jessie murmured, enjoying her pampering. Marcus could feel her relax her tensed up muscles, as if her body was melting under the skin beneath his fingers. It still was a bit surprising to him that his daughter was able to feel his tiny fingers, but it was still another reason for him to be glad that he hadn’t shrunk any more than he already had. Jessie didn’t even feel inclined to pull out her phone while Marcus worked; his hands were so relaxing that she simply didn’t feel the urge to do anything else.

     After the two of them spent a silent, solid couple of minutes together while Jessie’s mini father untensed her aching back, she started yearning for a massage on another area of her body that hurt a bit more, but she knew would be a harder ask. But first, she was thirsty again. “I’m gonna go get something to drink real quick,” she said, suddenly bouncing up and heading to the kitchen. At least she seems to be in a bit of a better mood, he thought as she jumped up. Definitely not as mopey anymore. She picked her glass up from the counter and glanced back to see what her dad was doing. His head was down, examining his fingers as he patiently waited for her to return. Smiling, Jessie headed to the fridge again, and returned a minute later with an apple in her hand. 

     He glanced to the cold fruit that he figured she got from the fridge, “I thought you were getting something to drink?” 

     “I did,” she replied, taking a giant bite out of the Honeycrisp. Oh, must not’ve heard the faucet, he thought, and watched as his daughter collapsed onto her back on the couch, her legs still hanging off the side. She lulled her head back and forth against the pillow behind her head, clearly feeling a lot more relaxed and lackadaisical.

     “No more back rub? Do you feel better now?” he asked, and she shook her head, then paused, and shrugged. 

     “Well, my back does, yeah. But my feet are sore still.” Uh-oh. He knew where this conversation was headed, and what she was about to ask. And he really, really hoped she wouldn’t. He hated the smell of feet, and several hours of his teenage daughter’s volleyball game certainly wouldn’t improve their aroma. 

     “I already know what you’re gonna ask,” he started, rubbing his temples and chuckling to himself. He didn’t outright say No, I won’t like he wanted to, but he wasn’t agreeing with the prior enthusiasm he had shown towards massing her back just a few minutes ago.

     “Pleeeeease,” she pouted, “I’ve been on my feet for like, almost 12 hours. Not to mention my game obviously. And practice.” She paused in thought for a second, “And, technically, I had gym today too.” He laughed at her attempt to pile on all the evidence of wear and tear on her poor feet, and she perked up, thinking she might have won him over. But he sighed, giving her a look that said Seriously? He wasn’t convinced just yet. “I don’t get why you’d be like, 100% fine with rubbing my back, but this other, completely normal, fine, like, regular part of my body is suddenly a no. Is it because they might smell bad?”

     Marcus’ eyes went wide as if he was surprised she really had to ask that, and he chuckled again, “Yeah Jess, they—“

     “Cuz I can keep my socks on for you,” she interrupted. “Or take them off, whichever you prefer.” Her big, puppy dog eyes, filled with genuine wanting and hope, stared directly at him from across the couch. 

     He sighed, glancing down at her feet that she was still keeping on the floor out of respect, her legs contorted at a weird angle to keep them out of his vicinity while still lying on the couch. Marcus looked back at her, and her eyes hadn’t moved, still intently gazing at him. He bit his lip, “Alright, fine, just for a little bit,” he relented, and she beamed happily, leaning up momentarily before resting back down.

     “I was gonna hug you, but I’ll wait til after my shower to do that,” she giggled. But we can’t wait til after your shower for me to give you a massage? her dad wondered, but elected not to point it out. She lifted her feet onto the couch now, the heel of her right foot going in between her dad’s legs on the armrest her was still perched on, while she bent her other knee and rested the foot on her straightened leg. “I can still take my socks off or keep them on, it’s up to you,” she politely reminded him, curling the toes of her right foot so that her joints cracked and popped just below Marcus’ field of view. Her feet weren’t anything special in terms of size, neither noticeably petite or extraordinarily big. But that obviously didn’t make a difference to Marcus. To the shrunken man, her socked foot was just barely longer than his entire torso. Even with it resting on the sloped armrest between his parted legs, her toes still were as tall as his chin. If he held his legs together and Jessie rested her foot on his lap, they might even be able to reach his lips. But it wasn’t the size that bothered him as much as the smell. Mere inches from his nose, the stench from her sweaty, black-and-blue athletic socks was unmissable. Even Jessie was able to notice from several feet away. It was a musty, sour smell, although not quite stale thanks to how recently (and how long) she had been using them. Fuck, I hate them so much, he bitterly thought. But I know Jessie’s not trying to antagonize me. It’s not her fault. I mean, it is, of course, but she didn’t go out of her way to make them smell. And sometimes love isn’t always clean and pretty, remembering the far grosser things he’d done for her growing up when she was a kid. “So…?” she started, breaking his train of thoughts as she started to pull the socks down her lower shin for the foot resting on her leg. “Off?”

     “No no, sorry, I was lost in thought,” he said, scooting back a bit farther on the armrest to give himself a bit more space between her giant, gray sole and his body. “On is probably better.” As much as his daughter’s feet undeniably stank, he made a safe bet that her bare soles would likely smell worse. And maybe even be more clammy.

     “Works for me!” she said cheerily, with a hiccup too, before pulling the tube tightly back up her ankles and letting go so they slapped against her skin. Then she brought her left foot forward and sat it next to her right one, forcing her dad’s legs further apart to make room for her spacious heels. The sudden rush forward from her foot forced a second dose of her damp-smelling socks to waft towards Marcus again, reminding him of the task at hand. For the second time that night, his hands slowly reached out toward’s his daughter’s sweaty body, except now she was able to watch him, looking curiously from the space between her big toes. His hands settled on the ball of her foot, and he gulped, admitting to himself that he was the slightest bit anxious. Not out of any kind of fear, but from a mix of disgust and incredulousness. Much like her shirt from when he was rubbing her shoulders and back, the fabric that clung to her curvaceous foot was damp and moist, and he knew he’d be thoroughly washing his hands as soon as he was done. As his thumbs pressed down intently just below the ball of her foot, he was glad she hadn’t sweated even more than she already had, imagining if his pressing against her foot caused more sweat to leak out, like squeezing a sponge. He continued to work steadily and faithfully against her foot, rubbing in circles against her muscles while his palms started to accumulate some of their perspiration. Marcus watched as his daughter closed her eyes blissfully, rolling her head back with a smile. “Mmmmm, that feels really good, Daddy,” she cooed, sighing with total contentment. As much as her feet utterly stank, and as much as he didn’t like having to touch her sweaty feet, Marcus was still glad to see he could make her happy. I could never do this for her if I was smaller, he thought. What a blessing that I stopped at this size. Even though she couldn’t see him anymore through her closed eyes, he smiled back at Jessie. It made Marcus feel really good, to know that just 15 minutes ago she had been in a sour mood, her day ruined from such a humiliating upset on the court. But now, because of him, Jessie was back to her regular, happy self once again.

     He had finished working on her heel after several more minutes had passed. Unlike his own heels, or what he expected out of most heels really, he was surprised at how malleable the skin on the bottom of her foot was. Even with it harder to press against it because of his weaker strength, and even with her affinity for sports and always being on her feet, he could still tell through her socks that her heel was rather doughy and easy to press against, likely because of how young she still was. Regardless, he finished up with her left foot and moved on to her right. But she opened her eyes, realizing he was moving on to the second half of the massage, and retracted her feet from him, standing up. She almost lost balance from how quickly she stood up, and he noticed she seemed almost flushed for some reason. I guess the massage felt really good, he figured, feeling encouraged if that were true, considering he didn’t really know what he was doing in the first place. “I’m gonna go get something to drink again,” she said, and headed towards the kitchen again. She grabbed the glass off the counter once again and watched as she headed to the fridge, forgetting to look back at him this time. Wait, why isn’t she going to faucet? he wondered. Their fridge didn’t have a water dispenser. But she opened the door, and soon enough he heard the splashing of some kind of liquid make its way into her cup. Is she drinking milk? I didn’t see her grab the carton. And I thought we ran out of juice. His curiosity overtaking him, he swiveled his legs around and got off the couch, coming around to the kitchen. Despite the quiet patter of his feet, she heard him coming, and hurriedly turned slightly with her back to her approaching father as she threw her head back with more gusto to down whatever it was she was drinking. He noticed this odd, sudden behavior and became suspicious now, and arrived at the fridge just as she closed it and turned around with an empty glass. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, acting surprised as she almost ran into him. “Did you— are— did you want something to eat?” she asked frantically. She was obviously hiding something. He opened up the fridge door and gazed around while she watched helplessly behind him, knowing he was seconds away from figuring out her secret. He knew he hadn’t seen her grab the milk jug since it was on the inside door’s top shelf, and sure enough, their was no more juice carton either since Jessie had thrown it away that morning. As he scanned the contents of their fridge like he was reading a book, his eyes stopped on a red and gold colored container in the bottom left corner, with a little tap attached to the side. A container he was plenty familiar with. 

     It was his box of wine.

     He slowly closed the door and turned to look up at Jessie, whose face had suddenly lost its former blush. And then, unable to fight the urge, a long and loud BUURRRRP escaped from her mouth. She tried to smile, but her father wasn’t buying it this time. Jessie had been caught.

*    *    *    *    *    *

     "Jessie, have you been drinking my wine?" Marcus asked. Suddenly their time together ever since they came home made a bit more sense. Her flushed face from before, her hiccups and burps, how easily her mood improved.

     The young girl glanced away and bit the inside of her cheek, knowing there was absolutely no way she’d be able to lie or wiggle her way out of this one. “Yeah…” she quietly admitted. But she still felt like it was unfair. She didn’t even feel like she was that drunk. Not to mention her dad had “fallen asleep” (or had he passed out, she wondered) after several drinks of hard liquor just a few weeks ago when he had been fired. 

     “So… three cups then?” he asked, trying to remember all the times she had visited the fridge that evening.

     She solemnly nodded again. “Yeah.”

     He tried to do the math in his head. Does being younger make you get drunk quicker? No, he didn’t think that was true. But being young does make you skinnier, which makes you drunk quicker. He quickly glanced over his daughter’s athletic but still slim body while her eyes were cast downwards in shame. He was sure that most girls her age would be under a hundred pounds still, but she was almost 5 and a half feet, and had some muscles on her. 110, 120 pounds? Still a lot less than I used to weigh. Normally if he was at a friend’s house or special event, he’d limit himself to 2 glasses of wine for the night, just to be safe for the drive home. Or maybe 3 if he was gonna be there for a few hours. There was no way his teenage daughter, who even now weighed a good 50 or 60 pounds less than he used to, wasn’t over the legal driving limit. Not that it mattered, technically, since she wasn’t even old enough to drive anyway and they didn’t have anywhere to go that evening. And that’s the legal limit for adults, he realized too. She’s a fucking 13 year old girl! 

     “It would’ve been one thing if you had just snuck a small glass because you wanted a taste,” he said. “I would’ve still been upset, but at least it wouldn’t have been as bad, you just being curious. But three glasses Jess?” Her eyes still downwards, the girl let out a hiccup, as if on cue. He rolled his eyes, and she couldn’t suppress herself from giggling at how poetically timed her disruption was. And then she hiccuped again. “AND tomorrow’s a school day. You have to be in bed in less than an hour.”

     “I’m sorry,” she said now, looking up from the floor now and into his eyes so he could see she meant it. “I just remembered how you had had something to drink after you got laid off, and since I was in a bad mood, I just like, I dunno, I had the idea.” She sniffled, and her voice started to crack as a tear slipped down her cheek. “And I remember learning a couple years ago in school that they drank beer on the Mayflower because they didn’t have any water, and I figured those kids turned out fine so I was gonna just drink like some kind of beer, but then I realized it’d be—“ she interrupted herself with some coughs, several more tears starting to drip down her face now, and Marcus’ expression softened as he could tell she evidently felt genuine remorse after what she did. And obviously, he never liked to see his daughter cry. No father did. “I realized it’d be easier to just drink your wine cuz it was like right there, and then I figured it wouldn’t be as strong as your liquor so it might not get me as drunk, but then after the first time I had some I barely felt anything and I was like ‘well why did I even drink it in the first place’ which is why I went back a second time and I still feel like I didn’t really feel it so I got up a third time but that time I could definitely feel it as I stood up but I also felt so much more relaxed at the same time and I didn’t wanna seem suspicious so I thought I should just keep doing what I was doing so then I—“

     “Shhh, shhh,” Marcus cooed, stepping forward now to wrap his arms around Jessie’s thigh and do his best to hug her in reassurance. The tears were flowing a lot more freely now and she was sniffing more as she tried to keep her nose from running. But as her dad wrapped her in a hug, she stopped babbling and broke out into a full on hard cry, breaking off her dad’s hug as her knees bent while she slumped down on the ground against the kitchen cabinets with her legs stretched out. Marcus knew she had probably sat down so she could be on the same level as him, but before he could hug her again, her own arms wrapped tightly around his and squeezed him against her. As his head was pushed into her hair next to her ear, he did his best to wrap his arms around her neck, just above her collarbone. Thankful for her dad’s always caring nature, she squeezed him harder, pulling him slightly closer into her embrace, and just enough that his feet left the floor and were draped against her slouched hips. But he didn’t even notice. He was too intent on trying to soothe Jessie, stroking the back of her neck with his hands and rubbing behind her shoulder. “It’s OK, at least you know what you did was wrong. That’s good.” She softened her grip, his feet finding the floor again, and he took a few steps back. “First off, for what it’s worth, yes, the kids did drink beer on the Mayflower,” he chuckled, and Jessie chuckled too as she was reminded how goofy her excuse sounded. “But it was a LOT less alcoholic than modern alcohol. Way, way more watered down than anything you’d buy from a store. And they didn’t drink it because they wanted to, they had to because of how long the journey was.” Jessie sniffed again and wiped some of the tear stains off her face. “And they lived hundreds of years ago, so we don’t really know if they turned out fine.”

     He stepped closer again. “I don’t enforce those kinds of rules because I just like the feeling of power or control. I want you to grow up to be the best you can possibly be, and drinking at a young age can stunt your growth, or turn you into an alcoholic when you’re older. Which obviously, neither of us want. I know most other countries have a drinking age of 18, and I think a couple might even be lower. So maybe when you’re in high school I’ll let you have a small glass every once in awhile. But I think you had a bit more than just a few ounces,” he laughed. She blushed, knowing he was right. “And someone as young as you shouldn’t even be having a little bit.” He paused, a worrying possibility in his head. “Was that your first time having any? Either from our fridge, or anywhere else?” She nodded, taking on a more serious face now, and he could tell she was being honest, so he breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good at least. The third glass won’t have kicked in yet, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up feeling nauseous in a little bit. You might even need to throw up.”

     Jessie looked down again, not looking forward to that possibility. “Are you still gonna punish me?” Marcus sighed; punishing Jessie had always been the worst part of being a father. He never looked forward to it, but knew it had to be done.

     “Well I have to do something,” he said. “Your actions should have consequences, even if you realize you messed up. But you did realize that you messed up, which is good. And this is the first time this has happened too, which is also good.” He crossed his arms and stroked his chin, thinking of something that would feel suitable.

     She watched him think, but hated the not-knowing. She already felt a mountain of guilt, and was beyond glad that he had gone so easy on her already. “I hate feeling this way,” she pouted, “I just wanna get it over with.” But then her drunken mind had an idea of her own, and she stood up, almost falling back over in the process. The alcohol was definitely starting to kick in, and her sense of normalcy and ethics became murky as her inhibitions lowered. “Can you just spank me, Daddy? So we can get this over with?” She leaned over the counter with her ass in front of her dad’s face now, recognizing nothing wrong or odd about her behavior. Her black, spandex volleyball shorts stretched tight over her butt, contrasting with the milky whiteness of her thighs. Little was left to the imagination as the shorts slowly rode higher and closer to the cusp of her cheeks while she waited for what her increasingly intoxicated brain assumed was an ample and fit punishment.

     Marcus recoiled and looked away from his daughter, shocked at how nonchalant she was being in her inebriated state. He knew she wasn’t intentionally being sexual about it, but she wasn’t a child anymore and was past the age of being spanked. So with how tight Jessie’s shorts were and how large her ass loomed in front of his face, the notion of being prompted to spank her scared him straight. Besides, she was the one in trouble; she shouldn’t be choosing her punishment! “No, Jess,” he stuttered, still too taken aback to be properly stern. “You’re 13, you’re too old for spankings, I’m just gonna pick something out.”

     “But I’d just rather get it out of the way,” she protested, squirming on the counter with impatience and frustration. “It’ll be harsh and quick and then I won’t need to think about it ever again.”

     “I already said no, Jess. I don’t think it’s a proper punishment for a parent to use anyways.“

     “Pleeeeease, Daddy?” she whined, jutting her ass further out. He could actually hear the spandex as it stretched over her soft skin. It was the final straw for the disrespected father. “It’ll be so—“

     “Jessie Tilden!” he yelled, moving his head aside so he could look past her butt and towards her drooping, pouty face on the counter. He almost never used her full name, so he was hoping that it would send a message and finally get through to her drunken head. She pulled her butt back towards her and stood up straight again, turning slowly back around. Guess that finally worked. Suddenly, she spun back around and vomited into the sink, the strong, acidic remnants of her drink bursting back out of her. 

     She groaned, her hands on both sides of the sink as they propped her slumped over form up that hung over the drain, ready but not eager for the second round she felt coming. Marcus sighed, reaching his hand up to her lower back to try and comfort her. “I think however you feel for the next couple hours will probably be a pretty good discipline in itself.” Jessie nodded, sober enough to agree with him. She was the only one to blame for how she was feeling right now. “So I won’t ground you or take your phone or anything,” he continued, “but I won’t be taking you to or from school for at least a few days. That was a privilege.” She nodded again. It’ll be just like how things were a few weeks ago, so hardly even that bad of a punishment anyways. I’d say that’s fair, given the circumstances. “Here, why don’t you head to the bathroom so you can puke in the toilet if you need to again, and I’ll wash the sink out,” he suggested, patting her on the back as she slowly backed away.

     “OK,” she mumbled, slowly trudging towards the hallway. What a wild chain of events over the last half hour, Marcus thought as he watched her leave. 

     He turned back towards the sink and scooted his stool over so he could reach it. As gross as it was, he chuckled as he saw her vomit splashed around the sink, reminded of the first time he had tried alcohol too, and how nauseous he had gotten after drinking too much. “Like father, like daughter,” he quietly remarked, and grabbed the sprayer to wash away the evidence of Jessie’s unfortunate turn of events.

 

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