The Princess and the Postman (Pt. 4)

Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):

Leila chugged a full can of Coke, then another, and looked at the beers in the fridge. No, she needed to be sober for this. Whatever was coming, she needed to be on her game.

The package the postman had slipped through the door bore a pink label marked in caps:

DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT A RESPONSIBLE ADULT PRESENT

She scowled: Fuck that guy. She was a goddamn adult. She had a good mind to rip it open to make the point, but pictured her image circulating among her friends and colleagues, outing her in her princess pampers.

How had she let herself get tangled up so badly? If only she’d never ordered that stupid clothing. If only it hadn’t spilled on the doorstep. If only she’d gone for a weewee before answering – wait, gone to the bathroom, damnit – no way was she going to start talking like a toddler as well!

The postman – much as she hated to admit it – was getting into her head. She was thinking about his messages and parcels and threats whenever her mind had time to wander.

8pm, he’d said. Same as before. She tried to eat but ended up just munching grapes, unable to take anything more filling.

At 7.45pm, she grudgingly began to change her clothing. Off came the jeans and t-shirt, the plain knickers and the black socks. On went the frilly pink rhumba knickers, the bunny bloomer dungarees and the fussy puff-sleeved blouse. But she was damned if she’d put herself in pullups for him. He’d have to fight her on that.

The doorbell rang. She padded across in ruffled ankle socks, livid that she could feel herself getting a tiny bit turned on by the clothes.

“Awww, doesn’t Daddy’s little princess look so precious for him?” cooed the postman, as he entered, pulling a small case behind him. “Good girl. Come and give Daddy a curtsey, LeeLee, and let’s inspect you!”

Leila growled audibly. The postman raised an eyebrow and she bobbed for a nanosecond.

“Such a pretty little girl!” he mocked her. “We might have to get rid of your nasty boyish clothes altogether. You make such a cute little babygirl in pink! Ah, but come here – something’s not quite right… “

He took her shoulder and unclipped her dungarees, pulling them down over her hips.

“Oh, these frilly panties are very sweet, LeeLee, but they’re a little too grown-up for you. Perhaps when we put you into pageants, you can do a little tap routine for the judges in these, but I’m concerned that my princess isn’t ready to go without pullups yet.”

“Fuck you,” Leila hissed. “I wore the stupid frills, didn’t I? We both know I’m an adult who uses the bathroom.”

The postman chuckled. “What dirty language! Someone is a fussy baby today!”

At that moment, Leila’s stomach rumbled. The postman seized upon it.

“Oh, maybe my little girl needs feeding and that’s why she’s being pouty with Daddy!”

“I’ve eaten!” said Leila hurriedly.

“Just grapes, by the looks of it,” noted the postman, nodding at the half-empty punnet. “No, I think I’ll make LeeLee something more filling. Ah-ah! Did I hear a complaint?”

He reached for his phone and drummed on the screen.

“No!” said Leila, panicked.

“Good girl.”

He opened the case and got out a pack of baby formula and a bottle with a huge nipple. Leila’s heart sank as he began to mix it up.

“I’m intolerant!” she protested.

“I noticed.”

“To that stuff! It has lactose!”

“Really? How intolerant?”

“It gives me… gas… ” Leila lowered her eyes.

“Oh, I can deal with that.” He continued mixing until the bottle was full and ready, then sat on the sofa and patted his lap.

“Come on. Let’s give Baby her feed so she doesn’t get snippy with Daddy.”

“You’re not my bloody Daddy,” grumbled Leila, stomping over and plonking herself down as hard as she could on his legs. Before she could brace, he had tipped her back so she was cradled on his lap, and jammed the teat of the bottle into her mouth.

“Mmph!” she complained, kicking her feet in their silly baby socks.

“Now then,’ he brushed her hair with his free hand. ‘Make all-gone for Daddy. If you’re a good girl and finish your baby bottle, perhaps we can talk about LeeLee’s chance to grow up.”

Really? Leila took note: he was open to negotiation. She began to suck on the gross, sickly formula. To her embarrassment, she found being bottle-fed a tiny bit relaxing. Very relaxing, even…

Suddenly she felt a hand between her legs, and gasped.

“Keep drinking, princess. Daddy’s just checking something.”

As her lips suckled once more on the bottle, Leila felt the postman slip his hand inside her bunny dungarees, then inside her puffy panties. A cool dollop of coconut oil was smeared on her clit and she moaned.

“Aww, that’s what I thought. Little LeeLee is getting a bit excited. She just loves being Daddy’s babygirl, doesn’t she? Look how greedy she is, sucking on her bottle!”

Oh god, she wanted to scream at him, but his fingers on her clit made her helplessly dizzy. Her mouth lolled open around the bottle and a tiny bit of dribble fell onto her blouse.

“Oh, wait!” said the postman suddenly, withdrawing his fingers and reaching over her to his open case. Leila panted, furious at him for stopping touching her and furious at her own enjoyment of it.

The postman drew out a new white plastic bib, edged in pink, and tied it round her neck.

“There we go! Let’s keep your cute clothes all nice and clean, Dribbly Girl! And look what it says on the front!”

In podgy pink letters, Leila wore the legend ‘PIGGY’.

“Aww, Daddy’s little piggy! Let’s get your feed finished now you’ve got your bib on. Here we go: oopsy-daisy! “

Leila was once again tipped back and the bottle schlupped into her mouth. She began to suck unthinkingly, and the postman’s fingers once again slid between her legs. He slipped three fingers inside her, then pulled on a glove and massaged her anus, sliding coconut oil inside her there too.

Leila was moaning openly by this point, in between sucks. What was wrong with her?

“Oh yes. This little piggy needs a little protection. I think we may need something a little stronger than pullups, especially since Daddy’s going to pop something in her botty to make sure she’s all regular… But let’s see. Perhaps LeeLee is a big enough girl that pullups will suffice.”

He transferred a tiny pessary into his hand and popped it into her bottom, then pulled out a pink glittery buttplug, coated it in coconut oil and eased it inside her.

“Oh!” gasped Leila as her bottom was filled. “Oh… Daddy…”

OH GOD. SHE’D ACTUALLY CALLED HIM THAT. NO! NO!

“Good girl!’ said the postman, slipping off the glove and returning to rubbing her clit and fingering her hard. ‘Make cummies for Daddy! Come on, baby! Show Daddy how much you love your bottle!”

“Wait – I didn’t mean – ” she began.

He slammed his fingers in and out, pushing the protestations out of her brain. Leila moaned shamelessly.

Oh god, she was so close! She began bucking her hips against his hand, spilling formula onto her bib.

Just as she felt herself cresting the wave, he withdrew his fingers, to a sob of complaint from Leila.

“All gone!” he sang with a smirk, taking the empty bottle. “But I think little LeeLee needs training to appreciate all of her clothing, so here’s the deal. You can only make cummies in your pullups.”

He pulled out some training pants with teddies on them and rustled them, then paused.

“Hmm… I’m not sure you’ve shown me you’re ready for these yet. You’ve been such a brat about wearing them that I may need to train you in nappies first… you have proved quite a heavy wetter…”

Leila sat up, suddenly lucid and enraged at the memory of her accident on the doorstep.

“Once!” she yelled. “Fucking ONCE! I do not need goddamned nappies!”

“Again with the tantrums,” tutted the postman.

“They’re PROTESTS!” barked Leila, but at that moment, the lactose from her bottle feed caused her to fart loudly.

“Oh dear!’ said the postman. No, you are rather proving my point that training pants are a bit too grown-up for you. I think we need to hurry and get you all padded up, in case Baby LeeLee does a Number Two right here,”

Leila was mortified as her tummy began to rumble. Her knickers were soaked with excitement and she crossed her legs to hide the dark patch.

The postman flicked a switch at the wall, and a magic wand sprang to life. Leila salivated. She’d do anything to finish herself off with that right now. Damn him!

“Baby wants her toy, doesn’t she?” smirked the postman. “Well, you can have your wand, but first you have to ask Daddy nicely for your Pampers.”

Leila fought with herself. Don’t give in to him! she yelled internally, over the pounding of her clit. Don’t let him win!

She lost the battle.

“OK,” she said.

“Not good enough.” He buzzed the wand against her inner thigh and she cringed as she felt herself twisting toward it.

“Please, Daddy,” she heard herself whining, grinding the padding against herself.

“Please what?”

“Please…” she was horrified to hear herself whinge, “… put me in Pampers.”

The postman smiled broadly. “Aww, that’s delightfully pathetic. Very well. Come and lie down here, baby.”

Leila, scarlet with frustration, stumbled over to a squishy plastic mat he was unrolling on the floor. She sat on the corner, panting, and watched as he pulled out one, two, three nappies, and began unfolding them, before fluffing them out.

“I think three should be enough, don’t you LeeLee?’ He thought for a second then pulled out a fourth. ‘Perhaps one more for luck. After all, you’re going to be making quite a mess…”