The kitchen smelled of warm applesauce and the sharp, sour tang of a diaper pushed to it's limits. Emma sat strapped into her high chair, her naked thighs spread wide around the sagging bulk of her Pampers, the plastic backing crinkling with every wiggle. Her bib, a ridiculous pink thing with cartoon fruits, was smeared with drool and half-eaten bananas, barely covering the swell of her exposed cleavage. She giggled, her fingers digging into the mushy remains of her snack, her other hand absently patting the engorged front of her diaper.
Lisa stood over her, arms crossed, her manicured nails tapping against the high chairâs plastic tray. âMy god,â she sighed, shaking her head in mock disappointment. âDaniel told me you used to have a degree. I donât believe it for a second.â She reached out, flicking the damp fabric of Emmaâs bib, letting it snap back against her skin. âNot with the way youâre drooling all over yourself like a brainless infant.â
Emma whimpered, but the sound melted into a giggle as Lisaâs sharp tone sent a warm tingle down her spine. She kicked her legs, the plastic-backed Pampers crinkling loudly, the weight between her thighs shifting with a wet squelch. The diaper sagged, heavy and soggy, the tapes straining to contain the mushy mess inside. She cooed, pressing her thighs together, only for a thick, mushy plop to escape, the sound obscene in the quiet kitchen.
Lisa didnât even flinch. âOh, wonderful,â she drawled, her lips curling into a smirk. âNow youâve gone and filled it up again.â She grabbed Emmaâs chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. âDo you hear me in there, babygirl? Or did Daniel scrub out everything but the part of your brain that knows how to make a mess in your pants?â
Emma just grinned, her fingers digging into the soggy front of her diaper as another wet plop answered for her. She didnât understand the words, not really. But the way Lisaâs voice wrapped around them, sharp, mocking, and just a little bit impressed, made her stomach flutter. She arched her back, her bib riding up as her heavy breasts jiggled with the movement. A fresh trickle of drool escaped her lips, pooling on the tray as she giggled, her hands flailing uselessly.
Lisaâs smirk deepened. âLook at you,â she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. âDaddyâs little piglet. Canât even keep your tits covered, can you?â She reached out, pinching Emmaâs nipple through the thin fabric of her bib, twisting just enough to make Emma gasp. âPathetic,â Lisa murmured, but there was a gleam in her eyes, something almost admiring. âI bet you love this, donât you? Love being nothing but a drooling, messy little baby for Daddy.â
Emma didnât answer, not with words, at least. Instead, she let out a happy squeal, her hands flying to her diaper, pressing down on the swollen bulk. The tapes groaned under the pressure, the plastic backing crackling as she shifted her weight. Another squelch echoed through the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable plop of something thicker, something that made Lisaâs nose wrinkle in disgust.
âUnbelievable,â Lisa muttered, but she didnât move away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. âYouâre disgusting, you know that? A grown woman, sitting there in her own filth, giggling like an idiot because her daddy took away her big girl panties.â She grabbed Emmaâs wrist, pressing her hand flat against the soggy front of her diaper. âDoes it feel good, Emmy? Does it feel good to be nothing but a baby?â
Emmaâs giggles turned breathless, her cheeks flushing as she nodded eagerly. She didnât understand the words, not really. But she understood the tone. She understood the way Lisaâs voice made her feel small, and helpless, and wanted. She understood the way her diaper sagged between her thighs, the way her body responded to the humiliation, the way her nipples ached and her stomach fluttered.
Lisa let go of her wrist, stepping back with a shake of her head. âDanielâs gonna love cleaning up this masterpiece,â she said, her voice thick with amusement. âI almost feel bad for him. Almost.â She turned toward the sink, grabbing a baby wipe from the pack on the counter. âBut I suppose someone has to take care of you, huh? Since you clearly canât take care of yourself.â
Emma watched her with wide, adoring eyes, her fingers twisting in the tapes of her diaper. She didnât understand the words. She didnât need to. All she knew was that she was warm, and full, and happy.
With a contented sigh, she let her head loll back against the high chair, her pacifier slipping from her lips as she drooled down her chin.
She was Daddyâs little mess.
And Lisa was right, she loved it.
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