I walk into your nursery, unsurprised that you’re still sleeping. We keep the blackout curtains pulled for many reasons, but one of them is that the sun wakes you up, and that makes you a fussy baby. You much prefer Mommy to wake you up, so you can greet her like the sweet baby you are.
I lower the rails of your crib and kneel down beside you. You’re on your tummy, little diapered bum up in the air, legs and arms neatly tucked beneath your onesied torso. A soft little snore escapes your lips, and I start to stroke your hair.
”Good morning, little one,” I say softly. “Mr. Sun is up, so it’s time for Baby to wake up.”
You whimper, instinctively fisting around the crib sheet, finally finding a stuffie. You cover your eyes with the bunny’s ears, though the only source of light is your nightlight. It’s a dramatic reaction, but it pales to the moment when you realize that your paci isn’t in your mouth. Your whimpers become cries in earnest, but instead of searching for your paci, you reach for me with both hands, fingers fisting at my nursing gown.
”Okay, Baby, Mommy’s here,” I assure you, climbing into your crib next to you and unhooking the strap of my nursing gown. I grasp my bared breast and guide my nipple into your whining mouth, and it’s greeted with the silence of concentration as you hungrily suckle at my breast. “There’s my hungry baby,” I whisper, cradling you close in my arms. “Mommy’s always got milky for her baby.”
I feel the familiar sensation of my milk letting down, and think over the past few years of our marriage. I’d always been the motivated one, the ambitious one. I’d made VP at my company before you became store manager at your little retail outlet. You’d always been a bit submissive, more in need of a maternal love that could guide you than a wifely love that would submit you.
You admitted to your love for diapers first. Of course, I always loved to have my breasts sucked, so once I was changing you, it didn’t take long for you to convince me to lactate for you.
And now here we are. Our lives revolve around keeping you diapered by my hands and fed by my breasts. Now I work from home—hey, being CEO has its perks—and you get to be Mommy’s little baby all the time. Sometimes I wonder how much further we can take it—it’s pretty extreme already. I rarely indulge you in enjoying my pussy, and we only sleep in the same bed when you’re sick and need Mommy.
You gently bite my swollen nipple, a ploy to get my attention since I’ve gotten lost in thought and thus stopped giving you sufficient attention. I respond by kissing your forehead and ruffling your hair, gently playing with your hair and massaging your scalp while you breastfeed. “Mommy’s baby is so hungry,” I coo, kissing your little nose. My hand travels to your back to rub it soothingly. You coo back, your lips spreading into a smile around my breast, your fingers gently twirling in my long hair like you’re fascinated by it. “That doesn’t mean you should bite Mommy, though,” I continue, giving your hair a patient kiss. “You gotta be a good baby for Mommy.”
You’ll never wake up at this pace, so I use my phone’s home app to slowly open the curtains, letting the light into the nursery. You fuss a little and try to burrow your face into my breast, but I shush you and cuddle you close, speaking to you in a baby voice. “It’s just Mr. Sun,” I soothe you, still rubbing your back. “Mr. Sun is so excited to see you. Don’t you want to wave hello at Mr. Sun?”
You give a half hearted wave at the window as you nurse, but it only distracts me by focusing my attention on your onesie. It’s a familiar sight, of course—a wet, swollen, soggy diaper is no unusual happening in our house.
But you’ve never ever woken up wet before, and I know it’s not fresh—otherwise I would have heard the soft hissing of urine in your diaper.
I gently place my hand on your squishy diaper as you nurse, pressing it so you can feel the heavy wetness. “Baby? Did you have an accident while you were night-night?”
Don’t message me if you don’t think you can match this level of writing. My limits are rape, abuse, violence, blood, and vomit.