(a work of dd/lg fiction. all characters are consenting adults. yall. this might be the hottest and grossest thing ive ever written. and yes maybe im projecting bc i have a thing for hockey player dads 🫠 enjoy freaks)
i loved game days the best. when dad and all his hockey teammates got suited up in their jerseys and padding and skates, and took to the ice.
the air in the ice arena was chilly full of anticipation as everyone found their seats. i liked to be in the veryyyy front row, so i could stand by the glass and watch dad up-close.
game days were fun because i got to go with my best friend ella, whose daddy was also on the team.
now, ella and i were bundled up in thick pants that hid our diapers underneath, both of us wearing a jersey with our respective daddy’s name on it. we were watching the teams warm up, skating around and taking practice shots, while the goalie (ella’s daddy) stopped as many as he could.
it made sense that her daddy was goalie. you have to be calm and collected to be goaltender, and ella’s daddy, who i called mr. christopher, was the definition of calm.
my daddy was a left winger. not quite as calm, he was flying across the ice with that power and speed that i loved so much. i banged on the glass excitedly, watching him shoot and score a backhand shot when mr. chris wasn’t looking.
after the game, daddy and mr. christopher met me and ella outside the locker room.
dad was flushed and sweaty, a towel around his neck as he hauled his duffel bag over his shoulder.
“uh oh, double trouble,” he chuckled when he saw me and ella standing together.
he wrapped me up in his arms, scooping me off the ground in a big hug.
“hi dad.” i grinned, nuzzling into his sweaty neck. the sweat never bothered me- i liked the human, familiar smell of it. “you played so well. that last shot was insane.”
dad chuckled, putting me down and ruffling my hair.
“thank you, baby, i love showing off for you. did you and ella have fun?” dad asked, watching fondly as ella and her daddy hugged and chatted about the game.
i nodded. “did you see us banging on the glass?”
he laughed. “baby, everyone could see you banging on the glass.”
“alright little girly, you ready to go home? dad’s exhausted. let’s order takeout, and you’re not leaving my lap all night, missy.”
“deal!” i grabbed daddy’s hand and swung it between us as we waved goodbye to our friends and started walking towards the parking lot.
“what sounds good for dinner?” dad asked, swinging our hands playfully.
“whatever you want, you’re the one who was on skates slamming into people for two hours.”
dad laughed. “it really does make me work up an appetite. pasta sound good?”
i nodded. “yummy. can we get dessert too?”
he shot me a look. “when have i ever said no to dessert?”
when we got to the car, dad looked around to make sure we were alone, then he reached down to feel my diaper through my pants. his big hand squeezed the squishy padding, and i whined at the feeling.
“goddamn, you need a change badly. how many times did you go potty during the game?”
i whined again at the blushiness of the question.
“uh uh uh, answer me,” dad insisted.
“three? and you already had used it twice before the game?” dad gave my soggy diaper butt a playful swat, making me whimper. “such a wet little girl. i think you’ll need a change as soon as get home, huh? let’s hope you don’t leak.” dad said, opening the car door for me.
he buckled me in, and i squirmed in my wet diaper.
on the drive home, dad kept one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on my soggy diapered crotch.
“next game, you might have to be double diapered.” daddy said with an evil smile i knew too well. “if you’re gonna pee pee that much and risk leaking, it seems like the only solution”
“but daaaaad, that’s so embarrassing. people will be able to tell.” i groaned.
“is ella in double diapers?” dad asked.
“but you understand why you might need to be?”
i crossed my arms and hmphed again.
“hey, lose the attitude, brat,” daddy said. “now, can you tell me why you need double diapers?”
my cheeks burned, but i quietly answered daddy. “so i don’t leak.”
“that’s right. i’m trying to save you the embarrassment of leaking all over yourself.”
i knew daddy was right. then, suddenly i felt the urge to go potty again.
glancing at daddy, whose eyes were on the road, i squirmed in my seat and started to wet myself again.
i knew i was going to leak. i knew my diaper had been hanging on for dear life- all swollen and squishy and warm underneath my jeans. and now… as i released into my diaper once again, i could feel the second i started to leak.
daddy’s hand was still on my crotch, and it only took him about ten seconds to realize what was happening. my pee was soaking my jeans in a dark wet patch, my diaper maxxed out so much that it wasn’t absorbing another drop.
“oh, baby,” dad looked over at the growing wet patch on my crotch. “you really do need double diapers, don’t you?”
dad gave me his towel to put underneath my seat, but it didn’t stop the obvious smell of pee filling the car.
when we pulled into the garage, dad parked and looked at me. “stay right there. i’m going to come get you, and you’re going straight onto your changing mat, missy.”
i blushed as daddy unbuckled me and helped me out of the car. the bottom of my jeans was soaked, my overly-swollen diaper bursting underneath the denim. there was no hiding the damage.
dad let me to the bathroom and laid down my changing mat and two fresh diapers.
“did you go pee pee again on purpose, knowing you were going to flood your diaper?” daddy asked as he laid me down, stripping the wet jeans off me.
i giggled with my feet in the air. “maybe…”
“naughty girl…” daddy tsked. “but it’s not your fault, dad should’ve changed you right before the game. oh, baby, look at you.”
dad reached down to squish my diaper, amazed at how full and swollen the padding was.
“baby, this is honestly pretty impressive. i don’t think ive ever seen a diaper so full.”
“dad?” i asked, stopping him before he undid the tapes.
“can i…fill it a little more?”
dad gave me a look. “this diaper cannot hold any more pee pee, little missy.”
i giggled, kicking my legs and playing with my socked feet. “i’m not talking about peepee.”
a dark, aroused look crossed dad’s face. i could literally see his pupils dilate as he realized what i meant.
“oh? does my little girl need to go poopy?”
i nodded, sucking my thumb as he groaned. nothing made dad more feral than watching me mess myself, and i liked to take full advantage of that whenever i could.
“come sit on dad’s lap. you’re not going anywhere until you use that diaper to its full capacity.”
daddy manhandled me into his lap until i was straddling him, my squishy diaper rubbing against his hard-on. i bounced a little, enjoying the feeling of the swollen padding and dad’s erection on my princess parts.
dad groaned, head leaning back like he was in actual pain.
“you are so fucking hot, you depraved thing.”
i gave a mischevious laugh, rubbing my diaper back and forth against dad’s lap, making him moan and grunt with each movement.
his hands went to my hips, guiding me to grind faster and harder against his lap.
finally, i couldn’t wait any longer.
“dad…i can’t hold it.” i said suddenly. i leaned forward, squatting slightly on dad’s lap as i started to push. i could feel the back of my diaper expanding, and then dad’s hand was there, cupping my mess.
“holy fuck,” dad groaned, watching me, enamored as i debased myself for him.
when i was finally done pushing, i sat down on daddy’s lap, my mess squishing underneath me in a satisfying, icky squish.
“you love being dad’s gross little girl, don’t you?”
i giggled, feeling lightheaded from how turned on and relieved i felt.
“i love it more than anything in the world.”
i stood up carefully, my destroyed diaper hanging between my legs heavily.
“i love you, you little freak,” dad said, still sitting on the floor, watching me fondly as i stood there in nothing but his hockey jersey and my poopy diaper.
dad groaned again. “stay right there, princess, i need to take a picture.”
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