The living room was warm, the afternoon sun spilling through the curtains and painting golden stripes across the carpet. Lily wiggled her toes, her thick diaper crinkling with every tiny movement. She was on her hands and knees, her yellow top riding up just enough to show the cute animal prints on her diaper. It was wet, not soaked, but wet enough that she could feel the squish between her legs every time she shifted. She giggled to herself, pressing her palms into the carpet and arching her back like a cat. Squish. Squish.
Daddy was in his big armchair, a book in his hands, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He pretended not to notice her, but she knew he was watching. He always watched. Lily stuck her bottom up in the air, wiggling it just a little, just to see if he’d react. The diaper was so thick, so good, it made her feel safe, like nothing bad could ever happen as long as she was wrapped up in it.
A tiny gurgle in her tummy. A little squeeze. Lily froze, her eyes going wide. Oh no. She pressed her lips together, her cheeks puffing out as she tried to hold it in. But Dr. Rolf had been very clear: little girls doen’t hold it. They go. And oh, how her brain had been rewired to obey. Her face scrunched up, her fingers clutching at the carpet. No, no, no...
A soft, wet plop filled her diaper. Then another. And another. Lily’s whole body tensed, her breath coming in little gasps as her diaper swelled, the padding muffling the sounds but not the feeling. Oh, it was warm. It was messy. It was perfect. She let out a tiny, embarrassed whimper, her face burning. She was stinky now. Really, really stinky.
Lily bit her lip, her heart pounding. She glanced over her shoulder at Daddy. He was still reading, but she could see the corner of his mouth twitching. He knows. She could smell it herself, the thick, musky scent of her mess filling the air. Her diaper sagged, heavy and warm between her legs. She should be ashamed. She was ashamed. But oh, how her stomach fluttered, how her thighs trembled. She was Daddy’s stinky girl.
And stinky girls didn’t just sit there.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Lily dropped down onto her hands and knees. She wiggled her bottom again, testing the weight of her diaper. Squish. Squish. Then, slow and quiet, she started to crawl. Away from Daddy. Away from the armchair. Toward the hallway, where maybe, just maybe, she could hide before he noticed.
Daddy’s voice cut through the silence, deep and amused.
"Where do you think you’re going, baby girl?"
Lily’s face burned. She didn’t turn around. Instead, she crawled faster, her diaper crinkling loudly with every movement. Squish. Crinkle. Squish. She could hear Daddy’s chair creak as he stood up. Her heart raced. She wasn’t fast enough. She was never fast enough.
"Lily," Daddy chuckled, stepping closer. "You’re not seriously trying to run from me, are you?"
She let out a tiny, frustrated squeak, her fingers scrambling against the carpet. Almost there. Almost...
A strong hand wrapped around her ankle.
Lily yelped as Daddy pulled her back, her diapered bottom dragging across the carpet. She twisted, kicking her legs, but it was no use. Daddy was so much stronger. He hauled her up into his arms, her diaper sagging, the weight of it making her waddle. She squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body tensing.
"Hi, Daddy," she whimpered, her voice small.
Daddy just sighed, shaking his head as he carried her toward the changing table.
Lily’s face burned as he laid her down, the cool air hitting her thighs as he undid the tapes. The smell hit them both like a wave, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body tensing. Stinky. So stinky. Daddy didn’t even flinch. He just reached for the wipes, his touch gentle but firm.
And as the wet wipes pressed against her skin, cleaning away the mess, Lily couldn’t help but wiggle, her face still burning. Because as much as she loved being stinky...
She kind of loved the attention, too.
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