Waddling Through Autumn: Naptime at Daddy's in a Pumpkin Print Diaper

TATE:

She thinks this is just a weekend. A little regression, a thick diaper, a hayride she’ll forget by Monday.

But the second I saw Avery crinkle across that pumpkin patch, I knew, she’s mine now.

Not just in play. Not just in bed.

Fully.

Paci in. Brain off. Rules enforced.

I’m going to keep her wet, whimpering, and babied until she forgets how to be anything but Daddy’s girl.

AVERY:

I told him this was temporary. That I could go back to normal.

I lied.

The first time I fell asleep in his lap, soaked and pacified, something in me snapped.

Now I don’t want control. Don’t want to be big.

I want to stay little. All the way down.

I want to be told when to eat, when to pee, when to beg.

Daddy knows. And he’s not letting me come back up.

Not now. Not ever.

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