Table of Contents
Description
“Your Morning With Daddy” plunges you into a day in the life of a little girl cared for by her loving Daddy. This first-person narrative captures the sweet intimacy of their DDLG dynamic as Daddy guides you through every step of getting ready in the morning.
Short Story
The smell of coffee and something sweet, like maple syrup, woke me up. I cracked open my eyes, and Daddy was already dressed in his work clothes, looking all handsome and grown-up.
He turned, a smile softening his features. “Oh, good morning, my baby is awake,” he announced, coming over to the bed.
“Mornin’ Dada,” I mumbled back, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“How’d you sleep, angel?” he asked, pulling back the covers. I stretched, feeling the cool air hit my bare legs and the satisfying crinkle of my diaper.
“Good, I had a dream about Dada!” I chirped, already feeling giddy.
I launched into a rambling retelling of the dream – some nonsense about Daddy rescuing me from a tower guarded by a giant teddy bear – while he checked my diaper with practiced ease.
“Oh really, baby? What a beautiful dream,” he chuckled, but his tone turned a tad stern. “Now, Daddy needs to get you ready for the day. You ended up wetting the bed again, angel. But that’s okay, there’s a reason we keep you in your diapers.”
“Sowwy, Dada,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning. I was 23 and I hated that I still wet the bed, but sometimes it just happened, especially after a dream about Daddy.
“Don’t apologize, my little lovebug. Let’s get those teeth brushed, then we can get you out of that wet diaper.”
“Otay Dada, uppies, uppies!” I squealed, reaching out my arms to him.
He scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom, placing me on the floor in front of the sink. After retrieving my princess toothbrush and strawberry-flavored toothpaste, he squirted a dollop onto the bristles and handed it to me.
“Show Daddy how you brush your teeth, baby,” he instructed, flipping over the two-minute sand timer.
I started scrubbing, but my head kept bobbing around. Daddy chuckled, placing his hands on my head to keep still me.
“Tanks, Dada,” I mumbled around the toothbrush, feeling a warm wave of affection for him wash over me.
Two minutes later, he announced, “Good girl, two minutes is up! Now spit it all out!”
I obeyed, proud of myself for not swallowing any toothpaste.
“Okay, lay down, let’s get you out of that wet diaper, princess,” he instructed.
I laid down on my back, and Daddy swiftly unfastened the diaper, tossing it in the bin. The cold baby wipes made me squirm as he cleaned me up, and I giggled.
“Tickles!” I squealed as he finished.
He then turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature with a practiced touch. “Up you get, sweetheart. Time to get squeaky clean,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging.
He stepped into the shower with me, the warm water cascading over both of us. “Now, watch Daddy, baby girl,” he instructed, picking up a strawberry-scented bar of soap. He showed me how to lather it in my hands, how to wash behind my ears, and how to make sure I got all the important bits squeaky clean. Then, he picked up my favorite bottle of strawberry shampoo, squirting a dollop into his hand. “Tilt your head back, sweetheart,” he instructed, gently working the shampoo into my hair. He made sure to get every strand, his fingers massaging my scalp in a way that sent tingles down my spine. He then washed it all out with a cup to ensure I didn’t get shampoo in my eyes, he then repeated it with conditioner this time the massaging felt really good.
The towel enveloped me like a warm hug, the soft terrycloth a stark contrast to the coolness of his chest. He carried me back to the bedroom, carefully setting me down on the bed. The towel was so soft against my skin as he gently patted me dry, starting with my face and working his way down. Each swipe of the towel sent tingles through me, a delicious mix of warmth and gentle friction. He took extra care with my toes, making sure each one was perfectly dry before moving on to the next.
He scooped me up again and carried me to the changing table, where he laid me down on a soft, pink changing mat. I giggled as he blew a raspberry on my tummy before giving me pinky, my stuffie, and generously dusting me with baby powder, the scent a familiar comfort. He then slid a fresh, clean diaper under me, the plastic tabs snapping into place with a satisfying click. He carefully smoothed out the ruffles around my legs, making sure everything was perfectly in place before lifting me up and giving me a big kiss on the nose.
“There, much better,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “Now, let’s get you dressed. Daddy will pick out some cute outfits for you.”
“Yay! Otay, Dada!” I cheered, kicking my legs excitedly and hugging pinky, the sound of my diaper crinkling filling the room.
He disappeared into my closet for a moment, emerging with three adorable outfits draped over his arm. First, he held up a pair of denim overalls with a picture of Hello Kitty on the front pocket, a matching pink and white striped shirt peeking out from underneath. Then, he showed me a fluffy pink tutu skirt paired with a snug white T-shirt with a cartoon bunny rabbit on it, its nose a sparkly pink button. Finally, he presented a bright yellow sundress patterned with tiny cartoon dinosaurs. Each outfit was specifically chosen to show off my diaper, a detail that always made me feel a thrill of excitement.
“Which one do you want to wear today, baby girl?” he asked, holding them up for my inspection.
I studied each outfit carefully. It was such a hard decision! They were all so cute!
“Hmm, Dada, I tink… I tink da bunny one!” I declared, pointing at the tutu and the bunny T-shirt.
“Excellent choice, princess,” he beamed. “You’re going to look so adorable.”
He helped me into the outfit, his touch gentle as he pulled on the t-shirt and straightened the tutu on my hips. “There we go,” he cooed, “you look absolutely precious.”
Next came hair and makeup. As he brushed out a particularly stubborn knot, I winced. “Dada, that hurts! I wanna do it!”
“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, handing me the brush. I took the brush and started attacking my hair, focusing on the same spot repeatedly.
“Baby, you’re not doing it right,” he chuckled, watching my efforts with amusement. “Pass the brush to Daddy, we’ve got to get going soon, and we have no time to waste. And no talking back to Daddy, otherwise that hairbrush will have to be used for something you won’t like very much.”
His playful threat, however, sent a flicker of fear through me, and I quickly handed back the brush. As he worked his magic on my hair, I carefully applied my makeup, trying to make myself look as pretty as possible for him.
He finished brushing my hair, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to go make you some porridge, baby. I’ll come to get you in five minutes, so hurry with your makeup.”
I nodded enthusiastically and finished my makeup just as Daddy reappeared, carrying a bowl of steaming porridge. “Oh wow,” he exclaimed, “You’re looking really pretty today, princess!” He scooped me into his arms, and I giggled, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.
He carried me downstairs and strapped me into my high chair, securing the tray with a click. I felt a familiar thrill as he fastened a plastic bib around my neck, its cheerful pattern a stark contrast to my pink attire.
Daddy set the bowl of porridge on the tray, a plastic baby spoon already inside. “Okay, can Daddy trust you to feed yourself this morning, baby?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Yes, Dada!” I chirped, grabbing the spoon
I dug in, but within seconds, Daddy was rushing over, his hand shooting out to stop my bowl from toppling over.
“Whew, that was a close one! Daddy’s gonna feed you,” he said, taking the spoon from my hand.
“But I can feeds mysewf, Dada!” I protested.
“Excuse me? No talking back to Daddy,” he said sternly. “You clearly can’t feed yourself, silly girl. Now, come on, baby, we’ve got to get a move on.”
I continued pouting but obediently opened my mouth for each spoonful, some of it ending up on my bib despite my best efforts. With each bite, Daddy made airplane noises, making me giggle.
After the porridge came a sippy cup filled with apple juice. Daddy always insisted on the juice after my breakfast to prevent the juice from spoiling my teeth.
While I sipped my juice, Daddy turned on the TV to ‘Jessica’s Big Little World’, my favorite cartoon. He then gathered my things for the day – Cinderella training pants, extra diapers, a fresh pacifier, baby powder, and a pack of wipes – stuffing them into my Hello Kitty backpack.
“Alright, princess, time to go,” Daddy announced, scooping me up from the highchair. The TV clicked off, and I let out a wail of protest. “Dada, nuuuu! I was watchin’ dat!”
“Princess, we need to go. We can’t sit around and watch cartoons all day. I promise you can watch more when we get home, sweetie,” he soothed, rubbing my back.
“Otay, Dada. I wuv chu,” I sighed, snuggling into his chest.
“I love you too, princess,” he replied, carrying me towards the front door.
He sat me down on the stairs to put on my pink Hello Kitty shoes, carefully strapping the Velcro straps. I watched him slip on his black dress shoes, anticipation building inside me.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, a loud fart escaped from me. I squeezed my legs together, my face flushing crimson, but another one followed, louder this time. I squatted down, my eyes squinting and felt a poopie log escape from me. I looked up at Daddy with wide, apologetic eyes.
“Dada, I need changes!” I whined, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.
He checked his watch, his face falling slightly. “Sorry, princess. There’s not enough time to change you now. I’ll have to change you in the car when we arrive if we have time, otherwise you’re going to have to change yourself at work.”
“B-b-but…” I stammered, my bottom lip trembling.
“I know you can’t handle it, baby,” he said softly, “but we can’t be late.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. Daddy hated it when I cried. He quickly popped my Hello Kitty pacifier into my mouth, the familiar plastic a comfort.
He scooped me up, his hand pressing against my soiled diaper, and carried me out to the car. He buckled me into my booster seat, the smell intensifying as I settled in. Daddy grabbed my backpack and then hurried around to the driver’s side, his expression a mixture of concern and amusement. As he started the car, I hoped with all my heart that we wouldn’t run into any traffic. The thought of being stuck in my messy diaper, even for a short while, filled me with shame. But for now, all I could do was suck on my pacifier and watch the world go by.
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