Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
“Glubbb! Mnnnnr! Grrtt Rrrfff!”
A scarlet, frantic Leila slapped away half of the spoons shoving baby mush at her face, sending them flying across the floor. The other half generally made it to her mouth or cheek, or ended up splattered across her ‘Messy Girl’ bib.
The girls found the whole thing hilarious, grabbing more and more jars and thrusting pumpkin, spinach and peach puree at the big baby.
“LeeLee, behave!” said the Postman, wagging a finger. “If you don’t eat your dindins, Daddy might need to smack your little bottom again.”
Leila shot him an evil look, her mouth brimming with green goo. She spat as much of it out as she could, noting with satisfaction the squeals from the little brats tormenting her as it landed in their hair.
“Oh dear!” said the Postman. “Don’t get too excited, Grumpy Pants. We’ve only just changed your nappy.”
The crowd around her burst out laughing and Leila became once more aware that nothing was covering her babyish pants.
“That’s enough now, girls,” sang the Postman. “Thank you so much for feeding little LeeLee. She was getting very grouchy after wetting herself on stage. I’ve got to get her ready for her special visitor, but before you go, let’s have a group picture!”
He whipped out his phone. The girls all posed around their victim, putting on their best pageant smiles. The Postman took a quick flurry of shots and thanked the girls again, then showed Leila the picture he’d taken.
Leila’s stomach fell through the floor. She looked for all the world like a giant baby: her face and hair were smeared with blots of food, her bib, with its humiliating message, was also stained and skewed. She had snot running out of one nostril from the exertion of fending off the horde of pageant demons, and she was sat with her legs held apart by her Disney nappy and frilly plastic pants.
“Let’s give you your bottle before Daddy cleans you up,” cooed the Postman.
“I will kill you,” hissed Leila. “I will find a way to kill you for this.”
“Aww,” said the Postman, as if she’d said something adorable. “I know my messy girl doesn’t mean that. She’s just tired from her big day. This will help.”
He tugged Leila’s hair so she yelped, then pushed the teat of a bottle into her open mouth and held the back of her head so she had to suckle.
“Mnnnmmmhhhhpppphhh!” protested Leila, but the milk flowed out of her nose whenever she stopped swallowing. She was forced to drink and drink until the whole thing was empty.
The Postman removed the bottle and hoisted Leila over his shoulder, revealing the “Daddy’s Little Winner” message printed across her bottom. He patted her back and Leila was mortified to hear herself burp loudly. Across the room, the girls giggled and commented, “gross!”
“Good girl!” said the Postman, plopping her back down on her padded bottom. “Well done for making all-gone! Now, let’s get the wet wipes out and start making you look presentable for our guest.”
Ten minutes later, a defeated Leila was parked in a pink chair in a side room, wearing a fresh fuss of blonde curls on her head. She had been dressed in a ruffled blue playsuit that clearly showed the outline of her nappy. It had butterfly frills running over her shoulders, short puffed sleeves and a yellow collar with bunnies on it. The crotch was fastened with poppers and as a final indignity, there was a bobtail on the bottom.
“Just this way,” said the Postman, walking ahead of someone Leila couldn’t quite see. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Our little diva had a tinkle on stage and needed changing, and then she wouldn’t settle until she’d had her dinner and bottle. But she’s ready now, and looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Isn’t that right, LeeLee?”
He stepped aside to reveal a well-dressed man, whose mouth fell open when he saw Leila.
Leila hung her head, not knowing where to look.
“LeeLee,” said the Postman, “do you want to say hello to Mr Bracewell?”
Oh God, what now? Leila thought, cringing.
She looked up and realised she had met the man before, back in her last role in advertising. He was the Product Director for Squishies nappies.
Mercifully, he didn’t seem to recognise her beneath her blonde wig, but she couldn’t be sure. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a nearby teddy to hold in front of her face.
“LeeLee,” said the Postman, sternly. “Say hello, please. Don’t make me use your big-girl name…”
Oh God, no, thought Leila, and fastened a smile onto her face.
“Hello Mr Bracewell!” she said sweetly, in a squeaky version of her voice.
“She’s very good,” said Bracewell. “She really looks the part.”
“Mr Bracewell’s company sponsors the pageant, LeeLee,” explained the Postman. “So we’re very lucky to meet him today.
Leila squirmed behind her teddy and Mr Bracewell bobbed down, as if talking to a toddler.
“You see, LeeLee,” he said, “Squishies has a strong market share in nappies for little ones, but having seen you at today’s pageant and spoken to your… uh, Daddy, I realise now there’s a huge opportunity we’re not taking. We need to scale up our infant designs for adults.”
“Uh-huh…” whimpered Leila.
“In other words,” said Mr Bracewell, “Now we want to make our cute nappies for big girls too.”
“Big girls who wet themselves like little girls,” added the Postman. “Like you!”
Leila felt queasy. Oh God, oh God. Where was this going?
“Ah, the shyness is adorable,” said Mr Bracewell. “But just to be clear: she is – uh, this is her choice? She has… how do I put this? She has capacity?”
“Oh, LeeLee has complete capacity. She’s a very bright woman,” said the Postman. “But as with so many bright, accomplished women, she also loves to play Baby. She loves dressing up, being taken care of, getting to enjoy the freedoms of being a little girl again. (ALL the freedoms, by the way.) Ah, the pictures I could show you!”
“No pictures!” squeaked Leila. “Uh, no need!”
“You see?” said the Postman. “She wants to show you in person.”
“Show w-what?” asked Leila.
“It’s very exciting, sweetie,” said the Postman. “Mr Bracewell is looking for a spokesmodel for his new product line.”
Leila shook her head frantically. Nope. They couldn’t mean…
“Ah, she’s modest,” said Bracewell, “But LeeLee, I really do think you might be perfect. We could simply hire a model willing to wear the product, but they can’t normally, uh, go on cue.”
Leila blanched, hearing her nappy crinkle beneath her playsuit.
“You can’t use special effects?” asked the Postman.
“Advertising law prevents us from simulating the functions of a product,” explained Bracewell. “The colour-change panel on the rear only responds to urine – to real wettings. And there’s a secondary colour for number twos. That second one is new. That’s the feature we want to spotlight.”
“Well, I’m certain LeeLee will have no problem wetting her Squishies,” said the Postman. “If it is little LeeLee here today. Or is it big Lei – ?”
Leila lunged across to put her hand over his mouth, but in doing so, put pressure on her bladder.
“Nooooo,” she whined, dropping Teddy as the full bottle of milk came back to haunt her. The liquid and the lactose began to grumble in her abdomen. She crossed her legs and prayed, hopping from foot to foot.
“Oh, that’s very sweet,” said Bracewell. “We should definitely include that little dance in the promo.”
Leila bit her lip as a jet of warmth escaped her. Noooooooo… she pleaded with her body, tensing as much as she could.
A little too much, in fact. As she tightened her muscles to stem the flow, she let out a little fart.
“Nonononono!” she panicked. The Postman leaned swiftly over and unpoppered her playsuit to reveal her nappy. Leila was too preoccupied to stop him.
“Perfect! She’s even wearing the prototype!” said Bracewell. “So you did receive the sample.”
“I did, indeed,” said the Postman. “And I think this might be a valuable chance to test it.”
Leila felt a sudden wash of relief as the pressure eased. Thank God. She’d overcome the urge.
It was then she noticed the warmth in her nappy and heard the hiss. Oh no, no, no! She was wetting herself in front of a former client!
Beneath her plastic pants, the legend shimmered into view:
“WeeWee Alert”
Bracewell and the Postman celebrated.
Just then, the thunder started again in Leila’s gut and her eyes bulged as her mushy dinner and the milk prompted another fart. She squatted down to concentrate on holding it in, but doing so caused the opposite effect. Leila could only whine as she helplessly filled her Squishies.
Beneath the other message, a new one appeeared:
“Code: PooPoo”
“Perfect!” said Bracewell. “She really is a great big baby! Just the girl we need to sell our nappies!”
“Nooooo,” whimpered Leila, still crouching. Her full nappy drooped behind her, stretching out her gleaming plastic pants.
“Well done, Messy Girl,” said the Postman, ruffling her wig. “Daddy will change you soon. I just need to talk business with Mr Bracewell.”
“Nooooo,” wailed Leila from her crouch, as her stomach grumbled again.
“Shhh,” soothed the Postman, popping a dummy into her mouth and pressing Teddy into her arms. “Daddy will be back soon.”