Readers,
Last but certainly not least in the Future Spank contest, here’s an entry aptly titled ‘Future Story’. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.
– Dana
‘Future Story’
I open my eyes to a room with soft, white light.
“Welcome back,” says a tall woman who is standing over me with a tablet. “You’ve been out for quite a while.”
“Out?” I ask, trying to understand what she is talking about, or even where I am for that matter.
She gives me a small smile and shakes her head. “I forget that none of you ever seems to remember what’s happening for the first few moments. Not to worry, it will all come back to you soon enough.”
I am in a bed, wearing a gown very similar to what I am always given for a medical exam, and this woman appears to be reading a file about me.
“Am I in the hospital?” I ask, still very confused.
“Not quite,” she explains, still glancing down at the tablet. “We have been monitoring your health the entire time you’ve been here though.”
“Where is here, and how long have I been here?” I ask.
Looking up from the tablet, her expression grows more serious. “Do you remember anything about discussing a program that would allow you to deal with problems in the future that you were unable to resolve when you came to us?”
While I am not entirely sure of what she is talking about, I do have a vague memory concerning a therapist telling me about a new technique that would allow people to take time away from the stress of everyday life and deal with that stress at a point in the future. I must have decided to take a break from my normal life for a few months, because I can also remember the thought of briefly escaping from everything seeming appealing.
“I remember something about that,” I confirm, sitting up to continue the conversation. “Did I decide to spend a few months here?”
She frowns slightly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “This is going to come as a bit of a shock to you, but it’s actually been many years since you entered into our program. Your original paperwork did request a shorter stay, but it seems like there was a glitch shortly after you came here. In our move to program everything into computers and go paperless, a careless assistant typed in the wrong release date for you.”
As I try to process what she has told me, I feel panic setting in, quickly replaced by anger and confusion. “What the hell do you mean, years? How many years? Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to explain being away for years? I probably don’t have a job anymore, and this will be a huge shock to my friends and family. How could you screw up so badly with something so important?”
“Watch your tone with me, young lady,” she says firmly, setting the tablet aside and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know this is difficult to hear, but if you will just listen, I plan to explain everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, taking a deep breath. “The news that I have been away from everything for years is just overwhelming. I realize that it isn’t your fault personally.”
“I understand,” she assures me, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You were out for much longer than intended, and things have changed quite a bit since your time. Will you please let me explain everything to you?”
I nod, not sure of what to say.
“The first thing I want you to understand is that since the mistake on your records was an error on our part, we plan to take full responsibility for helping you with the adjustment period you will be facing. I have personally requested to be your full time counselor for as long as you need any help,” she informs me.
“Can’t I just let people I already know help with that?” I ask, thinking that I really should see about calling a friend to get a ride home.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you were out for over fifty years,” she says, looking very concerned. “There is nobody on your contact list who is still around.”
“BUT I DON’T LOOK ANY OLDER,” I shriek, feeling the panic rise again.
“What did I tell you about your tone, young lady?” she says. “I know this is alarming, but you will behave in a civil manner with me. There have been quite a few advances in medical technology over the past fifty years, and the reason you don’t look older is because you have been given regular doses of a formula that prevents you from aging while you are not active. It’s a service provided to every client we see.”
It occurs to me that I am lucky not to have aged, because waking up older would be too much to process on top of everything else that has happened.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” my counselor tells me sympathetically, “but I am here to make sure that you are going to be alright. I would like to get the mechanical medics in here to examine you, then, we can go over some of the issues you wanted help with when you first got here if that’s okay. Do you have any questions?”
“What is a mechanical medic?” I ask, nervously.
“Roughly thirty years ago, hospitals developed very advanced software and machinery that can be much faster and more precise than humans at performing most medical tasks and analyzing data. Human doctors are still in charge, but we prefer to use the technology available to us to ensure a much more thorough and accurate exam,” she explains. “The whole process usually doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes, and I will be observing everything. Is there anything else you would like to know?”
“What is your name?” I ask her.
“You can call me Dr. M,” she says.
To my surprise, the exam with the mechanical medics is nowhere near as unpleasant as I originally imagined it would be. Both devices enter the room with a movement similar to that of a remote controlled toy car, then, quickly produce gadgets that look a bit like smartphones.
“Most of the data needed for an examination can be taken with simple scans these days,” Dr. M informs me, keeping her eye on the medics. “And since your health was monitored during your entire stay, it won’t take long to compare the data collected not with records already on file. The main point of this exam is to make sure that you are still in good physical condition after being inactive.”
After a few short minutes of scans, both mechanical medics leave. Dr. M makes a few notes on her tablet, then, informs me that the exam found me to be perfectly healthy.
“The next thing I would like to do is discuss some of your initial reasons for coming here. Do you think you are ready for that right now?” she asks me.
My memory from my time prior to waking up in my current situation is still not entirely clear, but maybe, something she plans to discuss will help me recall more details.
“I’m ready,” I tell her.
She reads from her tablet for a moment before speaking. “I see from your file that you had a lot of trouble dealing with some of the responsibilities in your everyday life. Does that sound familiar?”
Now, I do remember more about why I came here in the first place. I remember how I felt overwhelmed at work, and how most of my life had seemed very chaotic, largely because I had trouble planning for the future and had ended up just going from one event to the next without any goals or thoughts of what would happen next. I also remember being unsatisfied with the direction that things were going in my work and personal life, but every time I thought about steps I could take to improve the situation, I got anxious and talked myself out of ever doing anything.
“I can remember why I needed help in the first place,” I tell her. “I remember that I didn’t do the best job of living as a well-rounded, responsible adult, but I wasn’t sure how to fix that problem, so I decided to avoid dealing with it at all for a little while.”
Dr. M nods, giving me a stern look. “I think you have summed up your troubles perfectly. Fortunately for you, there is a very simple way to resolve some of those issues. It’s just a shame that you weren’t provided with it in your time, because I am quite sure it was available fifty years ago.”
“What is the solution?” I ask, curious to find out what she is talking about. “If you have a medication to keep me young, there must be a drug you can give me that will make confident enough to do everything I need. Is it something like that?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Dr. M answers, shaking her head. “For all of the advances we have made in behavioral health, we find that there are times when the old methods still work the best. You, young lady, do not need a magic drug or quick fix for the issues that caused you to struggle. You need to learn some self-discipline, and it will be my job to help you with that.”
“How are you planning to help me?” I ask, thinking that this conversation is starting to sound very much like one of the past lectures I would have received from my parents or one of my teachers.
“We are going to work together on coming up with a list of goals that you will work towards in order to avoid getting back into the negative habits you had in the past, and I am going to start providing you with consequences for any negative or self-defeating behaviors, usually in the form of physical punishment,” she states.
“You’re going to spank me?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yes,” she replies, grinning with amusement at my disbelief. “If you aren’t capable of acting like a mature adult, you certainly aren’t going to be treated like one. From what I gathered by reading your file, I think you’ve needed a good spanking for a long time, and I fully intend to give you one.”
Setting her tablet aside, Dr. M comes to sit at the edge of the bed again. “I think we should begin now,” she says, taking me by the hand. “It’s better if we address your previous behavior so that you can start with a clean slate.”
Realizing what is about to happen, I try to pull my hand away from her.
“Don’t fight me,” she orders, pulling me across her lap effortlessly in spite of my struggling.
My muscles are all much weaker than they should be from lack of use over the past fifty years, and I quickly realize that any attempt to escape her grip is going to be pointless. Because there is nothing else I can do, I quit trying to pull away and allow her to position me across her knees.
“That’s much better,” she responds, raising the gown above my waist and quickly removing my panties. “This won’t be easy, but you know that you have earned it.”
Without further delay, she begins to deliver firm slaps with her palm. “Things are going to be very different for you,” she lectures, continuing to spank. “You are going to make the effort to take responsibility for your own life, and believe me, you will end up with a very sore bottom if you don’t change your behavior.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper, now squirming every time her hand strikes. My skin is quickly growing very sensitive, and I am amazed at how much pain I am feeling from just her hand.
“I’m sure you are sorry now,” she replies, increasing the intensity of the spanking, “and you will be very sorry every time I have to do this. But I want you to understand, it really is for your benefit.”
Several minutes pass, and I take the rest of the spanking in silence except for the occasional yelp or whimper. By the time we are finished, she has managed to bring forth a few tears. This experience has been painful, but I also find that I am feeling much calmer than I have in the past few hours since waking up.
“It’s over,” she assures me, rubbing my back gently. “You were a very good girl to take that without too much trouble.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“You’re very welcome,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “I know that wasn’t fun, but I think you will find that it is going to help you tremendously.”
“I’m just glad that you don’t have some sort of machine to deal with punishments,” I say, laughing a little. “Your hand was hard enough.”
“Oh, there are mechanical discipline devices,” she informs me with an evil grin, “but there are still a few things that I believe are better when left to humans.”
“What will I do now?” I ask her.
“You will trust me to help you for the time being,” she says. “Things are very different from when you came in here, and it’s going to be a big adjustment, but I think you will have a lot to look forward to in the future.”
“How different are things?” I ask. “Will I get to have robots do everything for me or have a car that can drive itself?”
She grins, shaking her head at me. “Young lady, the whole reason you got into this situation in the first place was from not being able to take care of things yourself. The last thing you need is to depend on technology that will allow that problem to continue.”
“Well, if I’m not going to be using all kinds of new technology, what am I going to be doing?” I ask, my tone getting slightly whiney.
“Well, I can see another spanking in your immediate future if you want to pout,” she says, taking me by the arm again.
“No,” I protest. “I get it. I promise, I will work on taking care of things for myself.”
“Alright,” she says, letting go of my arm and getting up from the bed. “I have some work to finish up, and I want you to get a little rest. I will be back to check on you shortly.”
I settle back into bed, whimpering a little when my sore bottom first makes contact with the bed.
“I have a feeling that you will be sleeping on your stomach quite a bit at first,” Dr. M says, smiling at me before she steps out of the room.
I laugh a little too knowing that she is probably right. As I start falling asleep, I think about what my life is going to be like in the future. It seems that I won’t be playing with robots or driving flying cars for the time being, but I think I will be okay.
“At least she didn’t get the robots to spank me,” I mutter to myself before drifting off to sleep.