Mummy's Girl - Part 2

Kimmy was awoken the next morning by a powerful twinge from her bladder. Her eyes fluttered open and she half lifted herself up, still clutching the stuffed bunny she’d been cuddling in her sleep. She was about to get out of bed and hurry to the toilet when the memories of last night came back to her. Heart sinking, she lifted the covers and peered down miserably at the thick disposable diaper taped to her bottom. She knew there was no point trying to convince her mother to let her use the toilet, so with a sigh of resignation, she relaxed her bladder and started to wet herself.

It wasn’t a bad feeling exactly – if anything the spreading warmth around her crotch was quite pleasant, but Kimmy had over two decades of experience pissing her pants, and she knew her nappy would soon become cold and clammy and uncomfortable. Then there was the faint but ever-present smell of urine that would follow her around until she got a change. Her bedroom already smelled strongly of wee-wee since last night’s sopping wet pull-up had been dumped in the open-topped diaper pail that sat at the foot of her bed. It was a simple white bucket with the words “Kimmy’s Wet & Stinky Nappies” printed across the front in bold, pink letters, and it had no lid. Her mother said that a pail with odour control would just encourage her to ignore her ‘babyish little problem’, and that living with the evidence of her accidents all around her might embarrass her into ‘finally growing up’.

Her pee trickled to a stop, and Kimmy rubbed her eyes with her fists and got out of bed. She was vaguely aware of a need to go number two, but she wasn’t worried about that yet; she hadn’t had difficulty controlling her bowels for years, after all.

The baby monitor on her bedside table suddenly crackled into life. “Do I hear a nappy going crinkle-crinkle?” came her mother’s cooing voice. “Are you awake, Kimmy?”

“Yes Mama,” said Kimmy.

“Good girl. Come down and have breakfast, sweetie.”

Kimmy yawned widely and did as she was told, toddling out of her bedroom and down the stairs in nothing but her wet diaper, her bare breasts jiggling freely on her chest – she wasn’t allowed to get properly dressed until after breakfast in case she made a mess. She entered the kitchen with a “Good morning, Mama!” then clambered up into her highchair and waited patiently for a large bib to be tied around her neck. Her mum fastened it on and adjusted it to make sure it covered her sizeable breasts a few moments later. It was bright pink and had the words “Mummy’s Messy Eater” on the front, but Kimmy had long ago gotten used to this particular indignity. Her face reddened, though, when her mother pushed her forwards in her chair so she could pull out the back of her nappy and peer inside to see if she’d pooped. Why couldn’t she at least do her the dignity of asking? It made Kimmy feel like a dumb toddler who couldn’t even be trusted to notice if she dropped a load in her pants.

Satisfied with the state of her daughter’s adult diaper, Kimmy’s mother walked round in front of the highchair and plonked a huge, steaming bowl of oatmeal down on the tray. She dipped a wide, wooden spoon into the beige mush, but before she could do anything else, Kimmy said quickly, “Mama, you know how I mentioned I have a date today…”

“Mmm-hmm,” said her mother, her expression unreadable.

“Well can I… Would it be alright if… Can I still go on it?” She put on her best puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please, Mama?”

Her mother dipped the spoon in and out of the oatmeal. “Yes you can, sweetie,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “But you have to wear your nappy. And I’ll be picking out your clothes.”

“Mama, no!”

Her mother shot her a warning look, and Kimmy shut her mouth at once.

“Don’t worry, little one,” her mum said, her expression softening, “I won’t make you wear your punishment baby clothes or anything like that. I just don’t want you dressing up as a lady of the night. I’ve seen how young women dress these days, and I won’t have you giving off those sorts of signals on your date.”

“I won’t, Mama, I promise! I can choose my own clothes!”

“You’re barely out of childhood, Kimmy-”

“I’m twenty-two, Mama!”

“And you’re not even fully potty trained yet,” her mother continued, ignoring the interruption. “Until that time comes, I don’t want to hear any complaints from you about being treated like a child.”

Kimmy turned scarlet. She hated when her mother talking about her problem like this, as if she’d spent the last eighteen years of her life stuck in an incredibly protracted period of toilet training, rather than struggling with a medical condition. Even if the doctors hadn’t been able to find anything specifically wrong with her, she knew it wasn’t just a matter of an ‘immature attitude’ like her mother liked to think. She pouted, but knew better than to push her luck. “Yes Mama,” she grumbled.

She’d barely finished getting the words out when a mountainous spoonful of oatmeal was shoved between her lips. She let out a muted squeal as her mushy breakfast dribbled down her chin and spilled out of the corners of her mouth.

“Try to get most of it in your mouth, princess,” her mother scolded in a half amused, half exasperated voice.

Kimmy scowled and swallowed the huge mouthful of oatmeal just in time for another heaping spoonful to replace it. It was impossible not to make a total mess of herself when her mother fed her, and by the time the enormous bowl was empty, the lower half of her beautiful face was covered with mush, and her bib was totally splattered.

“What a mucky girl…” her mother said as she wiped oatmeal off her daughter’s chin, cheeks, and even the tip of her nose with a wet cloth. “Such a little mess-maker!”

Kimmy wanted very much to complain that it hadn’t been her who’d made the mess, but she also wanted to keep her mother in a good mood in case she decided to change her mind about letting her go on a date. Kimmy had been forbidden from having that kind of relationship with boys all through school, not that her mother had needed to enforce that rule – Kimmy had spent most of her adolescence being known as the girl who still wet her pants, after all. But college was a fresh start for her. Since it was local there were still a few of her old classmates around, but for the most part the university was full of students from all around the country, none of whom knew anything about her embarrassing past. She had friends now, lots of them, and with her good looks there were plenty of guys keen to ask her out. For the first time in her life, Kimmy was popular, and she was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it.

“Alright, little missy,” said her mother, once she’d removed Kimmy’s bib, “you’re all clean again. Let’s get you dressed.”

Kimmy washed down her breakfast with some apple juice from her sippy cup, then got down from her highchair, massaging her full tummy gingerly. Her date was supposed to be a lunch date, but she supposed she’d at least be able to impress by ordering the daintiest salad on the menu. She’d probably been fed enough oatmeal to keep her from getting hungry all day.

Her mother took her by the hand and led her back upstairs to her room. She threw open the doors to the wardrobe and started browsing, a finger placed thoughtfully on her chin while Kimmy waited nervously beside her, still dressed in only her diaper. Finally, she decided on a black skirt, a white button-up blouse, and a pair of bow-adorned, knee-high socks with buckled Mary Janes to go with them. It was a little preppy and schoolgirlish for Kimmy’s taste, but she was relieved it wasn’t anything worse. In the back of the wardrobe were several onesies, overalls, and unimaginably frilly baby dresses that her mother made her wear if she’d been especially naughty. She blushed fiercely as the image of herself showing up to her date in a sparkly sequined t-shirt and a tutu flashed across her mind.

Her mum helped to dress her, starting with her top half. “Hmm… It can’t be healthy for a petite girl like you to be lugging these things around,” she tutted, nodding at Kimmy’s boobs as she helped them into a large bra. She tilted her head, frowning. “Perhaps we ought to get you booked in for a breast reduction, honey.”

“No!” Kimmy shrieked, eyes widening in shock. She clutched at her chest, one of the few symbols of her womanhood that her mother had never managed to properly suppress. “They’re fine, Mama! I like them!”

Her mother sniffed disapprovingly, but didn’t press the subject. “Alright then, sweetie. Let’s get your shirt on next.”

Once Kimmy’s blouse was on and her blonde hair had been arranged into a pair of low pigtails, Mrs Jones got to work dressing her daughter from the waist down, sliding on her socks first, then helping her step into her skirt.

“Wait, Mama!” Kimmy said quickly. “You forgot to change my nappy!”

“No I didn’t, sweetie,” her mother said, off-handedly, pulling the skirt up over her daughter’s diaper. “You’re hardly wet at all. Your Pampers will hold until you get back.”

Kimmy’s mouth fell open in horror. “Mama, no! Please! I can’t go to my date like this! He’ll be able to tell! I’ll… I’ll smell like pee-pee!”

Her mother picked a white bottle off the changing table, flipped up Kimmy’s skirt, then pulled out the front of her nappy with a finger and sprinkled a generous amount of baby powder inside. “There you go, baby,” she said. “Problem solved.” She walked behind her and did the same thing down the back of her diaper. Kimmy wrinkled her nose as the strong, nursery scent hit her nostrils. She didn’t know what was worse – the faint smell of urine, or this fresh but overpowering clean nappy smell. She pressed her lips tightly together to stop the lower one from wobbling. She could only hope her date would mistake the smell of baby powder for perfume.

Her shoes went on last, and once she was fully dressed, Kimmy examined herself in the floor-length mirror that stood against one wall. It didn’t look too bad… She turned, making sure to look at herself from all angles to make sure there was no diaper bulge. If she stood still, everything was fine. But there was one problem – if she took a step or made too sudden a movement, there was a flash of white from under the hem of her skirt, the hint of a nappy. Still, as long as she was careful, her date likely wouldn’t notice. In fact, if she left a little early to make sure she got there first, he might not even have to see her standing up until they were both leaving the restaurant together, and from that angle he was unlikely to see anything. As long as they didn’t sag any more than they were already, they’d stay perfectly hidden.

Kimmy pressed her legs together and blushed as her diaper squelched wetly. Her mum had said they were only a little bit wet, but as far as she could tell she’d done quite a big pee in them. There was nothing she could do about that though. If she’d been a little bolder, she might have planned to strip off her Pampers and hide them in her purse until her date was over, but if her mother noticed the tapes had been meddled with then Kimmy would be looking at a bare-bottom, over-the-knee spanking and a month of diaper discipline at the very least. She’d just have to wear them to her date, but as long as she watched her fluid intake before she left, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about…