Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is nothing out of the ordinary about a woman keeping a hairbrush in her handbag. As such, it would not have seemed unusual that Nanny Ashtoreth kept a small, flat-backed wooden brush tucked neatly inside her bag. However, unlike most women perusing the shop, Nanny Ashtoreth had no real purpose for a hairbrush seeing as she was a demon who miracled her hair into its curled and pinned perfection each day. One may think she carried the brush with her for the sake of appearances, then; to fully commit to the ruse of being a perfectly normal human nanny. This assumption would also be incorrect. She carried the hairbrush in her handbag for one reason, and one reason only: to spank a certain naughty angel whenever he got too annoying.

Said angel slunk nervously up next to her, eyes darting from side to side. As if anyone from either of their home offices gave a hoot that they were in the same shop. Nanny couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

He prattled on under his breath about his concerns over the Antichrist, rudely snapping at her input, arguing with every point she made, and being a downright cheeky little terror. Just as she was thinking she couldn’t take one more minute of his childish behavior, a wickedly clever idea popped into her head, and she discreetly snapped her fingers. Before her very eyes (yet completely unnoticed by anyone else in the shop), the angel began to shrink in size until he was only about 120 centimeters tall. The lines on his face smoothed, his pink flesh softened, and his white hair curled. His cheeks were rosy pink and his eyes were bright, shiny and large on his round little face. He was still Aziraphale, but now appeared as a much, much younger version of himself, clad in an outdated three piece suit that was adorably child-sized. He was a sweet cherub, and Nanny had to fight the irresistible urge to pinch one of his chubby cheeks.

Maybe not that sweet, however. “Are you sassing me, young man?” she interrupted his latest snide comment.

His brow furrowed and he balled his tiny fists. “What are you on about - oh!” he brought his hands to his mouth, cleared his throat, and spoke again. “Is that - is that my voice?”

The middle aged male tenor of his vocal chords had changed noticeably to a far higher pitch. He blinked several times, his beautiful long pale eyelashes catching the light, as he looked around and realized that his stature had changed dramatically, as well. He frowned.

“What have you done to me, you vile demon?” he hissed, the words sounding hilarious in his squeaky little voice.

“Whatever do you mean?” Nanny Ashtoreth asked, grinning all teeth, not even feigning innocence.

Aziraphale glared harder and stomped his foot. “Change me back at once!” he demanded, voice louder.

“Well, if you’re going to act like a little brat, then …”

“Right now!” he shouted, pink little cheeks puffed out in a cranky pout.

“Oh, no, I think not, you naughty little Cherub. First, you need a spanking!” She said it loudly, drawing several nosy eyes and eliciting a few hushed titters from around the shop, which, Aziraphale noticed, had grown alarmingly crowded. He blushed red at the attention.

Then, she grabbed the little Aziraphale by his ear and dragged him towards the ladies fitting room. He squawked, fussing and squirming in her tight grip the entire way. Much to Aziraphale’s dismay, she plopped right down on the sofa outside the fitting room, affording them absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Several people were already watching.

Aziraphale found he still felt like himself, but also rather childish, and couldn’t stop the tears welling in his eyes - both from nervous anticipation of having his bottom smacked and from the humiliation of having a whole shop full of people watch.

His bottom lip trembled. “Please, Nanny, I’m sorry. Can we just go home?”

She ignored him, reaching into her handbag and pulling out the hairbrush she kept there, holding it up almost as if she wanted the spectators to get a good look. Setting it on the cushion beside her, she began unbuttoning Aziraphale’s trousers. He immediately tried to wiggle away.

“Noooo! Not on the bare!”

She smacked him sharply on the seat of his trousers. “Be still! Naughty little boys are spanked with their trousers - ” she succeeded in unfastening and tugging them down to his knees and then immediately (to his horror) hooked her manicured nails into the waistband of his little briefs and slid them down to join. “- and pants pulled down!”

Aziraphale’s face burned and his ears rang. He was surely going to discorporate from shame standing there with his chubby little bare buttocks displayed to the entire shop.

Nanny pulled him quickly across her lap, and he fit perfectly at this size. He was so small that neither his feet nor hands could reach the floor, so he hung suspended over her tweed skirt, completely vulnerable, naked bottom pointed skyward.

He felt first her shifting and then the cool wood of the hairbrush resting against his right buttock.

“I’m very disappointed in your behavior, little boy,” she scolded as Aziraphale clenched his bottom in nervous anticipation of the imminent paddling.

The hairbrush was momentarily withdrawn from his bottom only for it to make sharp, stinging contact when it smacked back down. The first few spanks were erratic, used for emphasis amidst her lecturing. Aziraphale, however, didn’t hear a word as he was far too focused on the deep, burning agony each swat left to his tender cheeks. The brush felt enormous against his bottom at his current size, the oval back easily stinging nearly one half of his bottom with every smack.

Having unfortunately finished lecturing, Nanny found a punishing rhythm and expertly used that brush to scorch his backside. Almost immediately, he threw a hand back to try and block that evil brush, instinct demanding that he protect himself from the fiery agony being inflicted on his tender, private flesh.

Nanny was ready for this, and easily grabbed his tiny wrist, pinning that naughty hand out of the way in the small of his back. Now, Aziraphale could do nothing but kick his little legs in the air and cry, squealing all high pitched and desperate as his bottom was severely spanked.

This was absolute torture! There was no way it hurt this badly when Aziraphale was regular sized. It felt as though every nerve in his bare rump was lit up in anguish, and Nanny just kept spanking and spanking until Aziraphale thought she would never stop.

Of course, she did (after ages and ages!), standing him up on his feet with his cherry red bottom facing the group of patrons. Now, Aziraphale hardly remembered or cared that his trousers and pants had slid down to his ankles, as there was simply no room for modesty when one’s bottom was on fire. He did the dance of a well-spanked little boy, hands flying to rub at his scalded buttocks while he bent his knees and bounced from foot to foot, accomplishing nothing but giving the audience a good show of his jiggling, well-spanked little bottom.

Nanny wagged the hairbrush at him. “Are you going to behave yourself now, young man?”

“Oh, yes, Nanny! I promise!” he wailed, still rubbing at his buttocks.

“Pull up your pants then. We’ll just have to see what Mr. Crowley thinks about your behavior today after we get home. I suspect he’ll want to discuss it with you, as well.”

Aziraphale boo-hooed as he tugged up and fastened his pants, the fabric feeling far too tight and scratchy on his throbbing backside. Nanny put her hairbrush back in her bag and took him by his small hand, leading him out of the shop while he rubbed alternately at his teary eyes and sore bottom.

“How was that?” Miss Ashtoreth asked under her breath once they were walking down the sidewalk.

“Perfect,” he said, sniffling. “Exactly what I needed. The stress was really getting to me. Thank you. Didn’t expect the, ah, change in stature, but it was a nice touch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” she grinned, pleased with herself.

“Er, did you mean it when you said … um … that is … is ‘Mr. Crowley’ really going to er … well, you know …?”

Her grin broadened. “We’ll just have to see, won't we? Naughty little Angel!”

Chapter Text

“I heard you were naughty at the shop today, young man,” Mr. Crowley said, armed crossed, glaring down at Aziraphale.

The angel was back to his normal corporation: middle-aged, soft, and a bit pudgy. Yet somehow he still felt so very little. It may have been residual effects from Nanny Ashtoreth’s demonic spell, or perhaps just the headspace he was in while facing down not one, but two redheaded demons intent on discipline.

His big eyes kept darting back and forth between Crowley, the tall man looming over him, and Miss Ashtoreth, the prim woman sitting with her legs crossed in a wingback chair over by the fireplace sipping tea. The demonic energy was nearly overwhelming in the small space. How was Crowley doing this? Even for a demon, this sort of miracle seemed excessive. Perhaps Hell really was more lax than Heaven.

“I asked you a question,” Mr. Crowley’s stern tone snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh! Um, well … I wasn’t … I mean … ” Aziraphale floundered, butterflies winging wildly in his round belly. He wasn’t quite sure why he kept thinking of his demon friend and lover as Mr. Crowley, but something about the way Miss Ashtoreth had referred to him as such made it feel appropriate. Especially with the demon seeming so large and threatening in Aziraphale’s current mindset.

“Nanny tells me you were. Are you calling her a liar?”

“No! Of course not!” Aziraphale couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

“You know the rule, young man!”

Aziraphale’s pink face pinched. He did?

“If I hear that Miss Ashtoreth had to spank you while I was gone, then you get another spanking from me when I get home, right?”

Oh. So that truly was the game they were playing. Aziraphale fidgeted, his bottom lip trembling, but he nodded.

“Very well, then. Go to your room and get changed. Put on the pyjamas Nanny laid out for you.”

Aziraphale scurried to obey. The Dowling house was empty, though by luck or by miracle, he didn’t know. In his room he found an article of clothing folded on the bed. He pinkened when he realized it was a one piece set of footie pyjamas - soft and cream colored tartan (Hah. Hah.) He held the onesie up and noted the large buttoned drop seat in the back. His face burned red. There were no underpants, of course. Naughty boys were always spanked on the bare bottom, after all. Sighing, he wriggled into the outfit, feeling littler than ever as he padded down the hall on his cloth-covered feet.

Upon entering the family room, Mr. Crowley promptly marched him to the corner beside the fireplace and unbuttoned the drop seat flap, letting it fall open to expose Aziraphale’s chubby bottom to the room. The opening was large and sagged down well below the lower curves of each plump cheek.

“You just keep your nose in that corner and think about your behavior until I’m ready to deal with you,” Mr. Crowley said.

Aziraphale’s buttocks were somehow still puffy, pink, and sore from the hairbrush paddling Nanny had given him at the shop, but he dared not rub. He was sure to keep his hands down by his sides as he awkwardly shifted his weight, nerves building to a crescendo.

Finally, after ages and ages, Mr. Crowley cleared his throat and beckoned Aziraphale out of the corner.

“Come here, Aziraphale.”

The angel stood in front of where Mr. Crowley was sitting on the sofa opposite Miss Ashtoreth in her chair. There was just enough space between the coffee table and the sofa for Aziraphale to stand in shame.

“You understand why I have to do this, right? You’ve disappointed me with your naughty behavior. Bad little boys need to be punished, don’t they?”

Aziraphale squirmed, his cheeks aflame. “Yes,” he said softly.

“That’s right,” Mr. Crowley continued. “And how are bad boys punished in this house?”

“‘panked,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Correct. They are spanked! Let’s get you across my knee, then.”

The angel once again found himself dangling in a dangerously vulnerable position over a demon lap. Mr. Crowley patted Aziraphale’s naked rump, making him wince at the contact to his recently paddled flesh.

“I hope this teaches you a lesson, young man!”

Mr. Crowley raised his hand and began to deliver a very brisk no-nonsense spanking to Aziraphale’s bare bottom, so perfectly framed by the drop seat opening. The little angel yelped and kicked while his tender backside was warmed right back up. Mr. Crowley didn’t even need a hairbrush, because his hand was so big and so hard, and he spanked with such strength and fervor that Aziraphale could do nothing but wail and kick his pyjama-footed feet in the air while his bottom was scalded.

Aziraphale barely realized when Mr. Crowley had stopped spanking since his bottom was still blazing hot and stinging as the demon stood him back up on his feet. The angel wiped alternatively at his teary eyes and his sore buttocks.

“All right, naughty little boy. Miss Ashtoreth and I have a very special punishment for you next.”

Aziraphale’s whimpers spiked in pitch and volume.

“We’re going to do a table display for your time out.”

Confused, Aziraphale obediently allowed Mr. Crowley to direct him into the desired position - lying on his back on the coffee table and holding his legs up, arms wrapped around the backs of his knees. Mr. Crowley tucked the flap up out of the way between his legs and over his stomach, exposing the skin of his bright red bottom that was pulled taut, throbbing and radiating heat. Of course, this bared Aziraphale’s pink little pussy to the room, as well, the moist puffy lips glistening wet, open and offered up just as much as his bottom was in this position.

Nanny stood, revealing the riding crop she’d apparently been keeping beside her. “Such a naughty little thing you are,” she scolded softly, running the tip of the crop down the back of Aziraphale’s thigh. “Mr. Crowley spanked you well, but I see he’s missed some spots.”

She tapped the crop along his crack where the skin was still white along his anus.

“We can’t have that.”

The leather tip of the crop smacked down along the insides of his cheeks while he writhed and shrieked. It took every effort for him to hold position as she punished the intimate areas, even delivering several sharp swats directly to his winking hole.

She then retrieved a long, slender candle from a metal stand on the mantel. Aziraphale watched with wide eyes as she greased the rounded bottom with a miracle.

“Do you know where this is going to go, sweetling?”

Though he had a good idea exactly where it was going, he shook his head since his mouth felt too dry to speak.

She grinned. “It’s going up your naughty bottomhole, of course!”

She bent forward and pulled one blazing red buttock to the side, stretching his anus even more open to the chill of the room, and then pressed the end of the candle against the tight little pucker. He whimpered, but she shushed him as she slid the candle several inches inside him, his greedy hole fluttering tightly around it.

“I think we need to prop him,” she said to Mr. Crowley, who nodded and retrieved a sofa cushion. The demons lifted Aziraphale’s hips and placed the pillow beneath so that his exposed backside was pointed straight up, the candle sticking out from between his cheeks like an absurd little tail. “There now,” Nanny Ashtoreth said, the tip of her finger igniting with a snap.

Aziraphale’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she lit the candle. He trembled as he waited and the candle burned.

“Let’s see if that wax can warm up your naughty little hole even more!”

Every drip of warm wax that made contact with his burning, well-whipped anus made him wince. He oohed and ahhed and squirmed, feeling more exposed and embarrassed than he ever had before in his entire life. It wasn’t until the candle had burned down some length that Mr. Crowley finally bent to blow it out. He slid it free and then brushed away the melted wax and pulled Aziraphale to his feet. With a snap, Mr. Crowley had vanished Aziraphale’s silly pyjamas, leaving him naked, his entire backside hot and throbbing. His cunt was wet, aching and empty, clit twitching in eager anticipation of the pleasure he was hoping for.

Nanny was sitting on the sofa now, sans bottoms, her erection hard and ready. “Come here, my sweet boy,” she beckoned. “You’ve been punished enough. Sit with Nanny.”

Aziraphale obeyed, straddling her lap and lining up her cock between the slick, velvety folds of his pussy and sinking down with a sigh of relief. He rocked slowly. Mr. Crowley came up behind and Nanny reached around to spread his buttocks wide apart to allow the demon to work ample lubrication inside Aziraphale’s arsehole with his deft fingers. Aziraphale felt Mr. Crowley kneel around his own legs, slowly pressing into Aziraphale's slicked anus.

The angel gasped and whined as he was thoroughly filled by two enormous demon cocks, thrusting into him at once, the wet, wanton sounds of fucking filling the air and fueling his desire.

“He’s such a sweet, darling little imp, isn’t he?” Nanny Ashtoreth cooed. “I could just eat him up.” She thrust her hips up, fucking him so deeply he imagined one might be able to see the outline of her cock protruding through the skin of his plump lower belly.

“Terribly naughty, though,” Mr. Crowley said, fucking him sharply from behind. “We’ll need to be strict with him.”

He gave Aziraphale a swift spank to his right buttock and the angel warbled out a cry, his clit pulsing and cunt clenching with the first of what was sure to be many, many more orgasms before the evening was out.