Alby & Max (Part 9) (Patreon)

(Part 9)

Alby was carefully placed in the nursery’s crib.  “You wait here, Princess,” Daddy said. “Daddy needs to baby-proof the house real quick.”  He punctuated the sentence by sliding up the railing.

Alby hung her head down, partly to seem contrite, and partly to stare down at the padded mass protruding from between her legs.  “Yes Daddy.”

A strong yet gentle hand grasped Alby by the chin and forced her to tilt her head back up. “Hey,” Daddy said, “No sulking.”

Alby felt her neck muscles spasm as she resisted the urge to tilt her head back down. “Yes, Daddy.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Alby blinked as if hearing a foreign language. “I…don’t?”

Daddy withdrew his hand but still leaned up against the railing. “Not at all.’

Alby puzzled, unsure of what to make of that. “But…I peed the bed.”

“Of course you did,” Max nodded. “You’re a baby.” With his eyes he indicated the diaper beneath her onesie. “And we’ve taken care of that, so now the furniture is safe.” He quickly added, “And if you leak that’s not your fault.”

“But I broke the rules,” Alby whimpered. “You spanked me.  I was bad.”

Daddy laughed as if Alby had said something particularly silly. “Yes,” he said, “You were punished for it. But the punishment is over.  You don’t need to punish yourself anymore than you already have. Keeping you in line is my job, not your job.”

A new gear clicked into place.  “It’s not…my job…to control myself?”

“Of course not!” Daddy laughed again.  “Then what would I have left to do?”  He gave her another kiss and said “Stay here while I go set things up,” and he left carrying out a frankly enormous high chair.

Alby sat back in the crib, jaw slightly agape. There was no doubt that she was going to be sitting in that chair at some point. Left alone to herself again, Alby stared down at her onesie and poked the diaper underneath it.  

She felt the crisp crinkle with her touch and yanked back her finger as if she’d just touched a hot stove. It was both real and incredibly not at the same time. Too real, maybe?  It was hard to find the words for it.  Alby’s brain buzzed like a hive full of happy bees and she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the why of it.

Why was a diaper making her so happy?

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d worn lacy panties, yet the mix of exhilaration and peace- of rightness- she’d first felt when pulling them up her legs paled in comparison to what she was presently experiencing.  Though to be fair, she’d also lost count of the number of diapers she’d worn; primarily because the last time she wore one she was too young to really remember the experience.

But she had worn diapers before. That was a simple fact.  Perhaps that’s why she felt so at peace about it.  She wasn’t transgressing against her own schema. She didn’t feel like a cross dresser or a woman hiding her femininity underneath a corporate masculine shell. Daddy had turned the clock back to her to a point where girls and boys wore the same exact underwear, and where the biggest difference in presentation was that girls wore pinks and purples, and boys wore blues and reds. Even then, girls could wear those colors too and not be mistaken for a boy, so long as the sleeves were frilly enough or they were adorned in a cute dress.  In going even further back, Alby had become even more feminine and  it all combined to give her a strange kind of euphoria.  

Daddy doubled back and took out what looked to her like additional crib sidings.  “Still in your crib,” he noted.  “Good girl.  Daddy will be right back. Just gotta set a few more things up.”

Little crinkling noises registered as Alby wagged her tail at Daddy’s praise.  It wasn’t just her choice of underwear that was making her feel so free.  It was that she was free.  She had no control of herself, no responsibilities, no expectations to live up to.  She really could just be herself, and Daddy would take care of her.  

Emotionally speaking, the concept was just alien to her; both frightening and tantalizing.  Something to be afraid of and something begging to be explored, like a haunted house at an amusement park.

Daddy wasn’t long in returning.  “Okay, princess,” he said.  “Let’s do an update on the rules.”

“Rules?”  Alby asked. “I thought…” her thought was cut off when Daddy lowered the crib rails and put her on his hip.  Wow! She had no idea that he was this strong.  Reflexively, she wrapped her legs around his waist so as not to fall, and he supported her, holding her up with both hands.  

“Not rules rules,” Daddy assured her. “You’re too little for that.”  Just hearing that made the little doberman swoon.  “It’s just important for baby girls to know what to expect from their environment.”

Alby relaxed muscles she hadn’t realized she’d been tensing. “Okay, Daddy.”

Daddy bobbed her slightly. “First off, this is your room now.  This is your nursery. This is where you’ll be sleeping.”

Alby’s breath stalled for an instant.  What was once forbidden was now required. The taboo had suddenly become normal. Finally, it went without saying, but Alby realized what an enormous show of trust and vulnerability this was coming from Daddy.  He’d gone to lengths to keep this place unseen and unknown to all.  Making her his baby and declaring this space as hers meant a lot coming from the wolf.  “Thank you, Daddy,” she squeaked, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Daddy grunted.  “Bedtime is at nine o’clock, sharp, and that’s non-negotiable little missy. Nine is still very late for someone as little as you.”

A pang across her heart made Alby whine and whimper, albeit submissively.  “Yes, Daddy.”

Daddy carried her out of the nursery and down the stairs. “You’re not potty trained, so you’ll be wearing diapers at all times,” he said.  “If you think you’re an early bloomer, you can ask me to take you to the potty, but if Daddy is busy or tired, you’ll just have to wait or use your diaper.” He boosted her up enough so that he could give her padded bottom a pat.  “Don’t even try being embarrassed about it,” he teased. “I know you’re just copying what the toddlers at daycare are doing when they have accidents in their pull-ups.  It’s not an accident for you.”

“Yes, Daddy.”  Alby was preoccupied looking over the back of Daddy’s shoulder, marveling that the secret door to the nursery remained very much open and ajar.  No more secret rooms. No more secrets.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and zoomed through the living room only to stop at the kitchen’s threshold so that Alby could see the adult sized highchair. “You’ll be eating there from now on,” Daddy told her.  “You’re too little to feed yourself. I’ll be doing that, for you.”

“Yes Daddy!” Alby said excitedly.  She wouldn’t even have to feed herself! How amazing was that?!

“Come to think of it,” Daddy said turning around and going back to the living room, “I think you’re too little to walk by yourself.  You’re just a cruiser.”

The term was unfamiliar to Alby.  “Cruiser?”

“Cruising,” Daddy repeated himself. “That thing babies do when they can’t quite walk by themselves.”  

Images of not quite one-year-olds flashed through Alby’s memory.  Memories of cousins when they were puppies pulling themselves up using a couch or a coffee table and then side stepping around the perimeter as though they were on a high wire. He was aware of that stage, but didn’t have a specific word for it.  “Cruising,” Alby tried out the word.

“You can walk if you’re holding my hand, or leaning onto something,” Daddy went on. “If you’re not, you’re crawling.” He smirked. “That or rolling on the floor scooting on your butt.”  He said it in that same calm matter-of-fact way that he tended to do when giving orders.  He wasn’t imposing limitations on Alby, those limitations were already in place naturally.  He was just explaining to Alby the way of the world in a way Alby could understand. It was the with the same sensible rhythm and timbre that a particularly nurturing adult might tell a silly puppy that they wouldn’t fly no matter how hard they flapped their arms, so best not jump off the roof.

By the end of Daddy’s explanation, they were back in the living room.  The large open play spot on the floor was no longer so large or so open.  A playpen had been erected in its place.  Alby’s tail wagged in recognition and more of the tiny crinkles sounded off behind her.  

A slight, muffled groan came out of Daddy while he lowered Alby into the playpen.  It was certainly wide, but not terribly tall; just high enough so that were she straddling it, her feet wouldn’t touch the ground; but that was nothing more than a slight hop over the top.  Alby would have had no problem getting over the rail; that is if she could do more than just cruise.

“There ya go, baby girl,” Daddy grunted, rolling his shoulders.

“Thank you for carrying me, Daddy!” Alby beamed up at him. “You’re really strong!”

Daddy pretended to flex and then laughed to himself. “No I’m not,” he said. “You’re just so little.” Alby’s eyes almost rolled back into her head.  “Speaking of which, I hope you like your playpen. Whenever I’m not watching you directly, you’ll be either here, your crib, or your highchair.  I can’t trust you to be unsupervised otherwise.

Mentioning ‘trust’ caused Alby’s brain to feel all prickly.  “Because I don’t know any better?” she asked. “Not because I’m bad?”

Daddy leaned over the playpen’s railing and patted her on the head.  “That’s right, cupcake. Because you don’t know any better.”

“Because I’m just a baby?”

“Because you’re just a baby.”

******************************************************************************************************

Max balanced Alby on his knee, facing outwards, with his hands underneath Alby’s armpits.  He took a deep breath and gathered his strength. Alby sat there, wiggling slightly and sucking on her new paci.
“Toast in the toaster, getting very hot,”  Max said. “Tick tock, tick tock. Up you POP!”  With an explosive outburst, Max popped up with his leg and hoisted Alby upwards. Alby didn’t go very high. Max didn’t even get his arms all the way extended, but for that less than a second Alby was airborne, she kicked her legs and giggled.

Other than a quick bathroom break to give Alby a chance to explore the playpen, Max hadn’t left the living room after the initial tour.  He had himself a brand new baby to play with, and as much as he delighted in watching her play on the floor, Max was going to be damned if he just sat off to the side all weekend.  

He was loving these precious little interactions to the point where it was hard to believe this was the same Alby from that used to give him and others such grief at work. Turns out, it had been simply been a matter of environment. Alby hadn’t been a great co-worker in the same way that turtles weren’t very good at climbing trees.  When it came to being a baby girl, the kid was something of a natural.

“Agin! Agin!” Alby mumbled around her pacifier. “AGIN!”

Max’s smile couldn’t be seen, but it practically radiated off of him. “Okay, princess,” he said. “Again.”  He huffed and put aside thoughts of how sore he’d likely be come morning. This was at least the tenth time he’d done it. Doing this sort of thing with regular kids could be draining.  A baby Alby’s size only accelerated the fatigue.

The physical fatigue was inverse of the mental fatigue. Doing this to a chronological infant would have been physically less draining, but the constant repetition would have had Max’s enthusiasm draining.  A child’s smile lit up during peekaboo, and was charming as hell, but it ceased to be as entertaining for the adult after the sixth or seventh round.  Max could play peekaboo with Alby forever, though.  

Some kind of natural chemistry between them, seeing the surprise and delight and how genuine it was coming from Alby, knowing that the little dog had so much baggage and pain gave Max more than enough motivation to continue.  The added context of knowing that Alby needed this sort of treatment was an endorphin rush of its own.  Max supposed that was why he was a Daddy Dom, and not just a Top.  It was the nurturing aspect as much as the control he enjoyed.

“Toast in the toaster, getting very hot. Tick tock, tick tock. Up. You. POP!”  The process repeated itself yet again, and Max felt incredible satisfaction at the reaction.  He could literally do this for hours. The growing ache in his arm and legs reminded him that he shouldn’t.  

He split the difference and promised himself another hour.  Alby wiggled some more and giggled, making Max feel acutely aware of the extra weight on his lap.  Okay, maybe another half hour.  That would still result in close to ninety minutes of intense one on one playtime.  He could leave her the playpen too, and try to catch her doing something adorable when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Toast in the toaster, getting very hot. Tick tock, tick tock. Up,” Max stopped, prelaunch. “Something the matter, princess?”

Alby let the pacifier drop from her mouth and dangle on her shirt. “Nothin’ Daddy.”  Max didn’t need to have psychic powers to guess.  He just needed to notice how still, the little dog had gotten and how her hands were now drifting slowly and subtly to her lap.  

“Are you sure?”  Max asked.

His baby girl gave a quiet nod. Max automatically knew that she was lying from that.  Baby girl had to pee. She’d thrown a miraculous curveball in wetting the bed earlier that day, but decades of potty training wasn’t going to be so easily undone. Not that easily, not with someone watching.  

“Daddy…?” Alby started.  “Is it okay if I…?”

Max cut her off.  “Hold on, baby girl,” he said. He reached around and cupped the front of her diaper with the palm of his hand.  “I need to check.”  He already knew the answer, but gave the front of the diaper a squeeze.  For added effect he inserted his fingers past the leak guards and felt the front.  “Still dry.”

“Um…yeah…” Alby cleared her throat. “Remember how you said I might be an early bloomer?”  

Max couldn’t let her finish. He didn’t want Alby to chicken out. She needed an in.  “Since I know you’re not even close to potty trained,” Max talked right over her. “I know you can’t be worried about holding it in.  You’re so little.”  He reached to a side table and snagged another bottle of juice he’d set aside.  “You must be dehydrated.”

He leaned back on the sofa, and adjusted Alby so that she was sideways and leaning against the cushioned arm of the sofa.  “Daddy…” she tried I.

“Here,” Max said, handing her the bottle. “Drink.  Slowly.”

“But…”

“The other rules still apply, baby girl,” Max reminded her. “You still have to do what Daddy says.”

The little dog took the bottle and began to sip from it, experimentally.  Max picked up the remote and turned the television back on.  He flipped it back to sports, but turned down the volume so he wouldn’t have to yell to be understood.
**************************************************************************************************
Alby laid back in Daddy’s arms, in awe of the thing pressed between her lips. A bottle. A real one. A baby bottle. For her.
She tilted it back, expecting for more of the sweet red juice to come out, but gravity only did so much work. A few tantalizing droplets dripped through the hole, but nothing more.

Come on, Alby! Do it! This is easy! So easy even a baby could do it! Even an Alby could do it.

Experimentally, she began to suck on the rubber teat, her lips pulling the sweet red contents forth.  It came out faster now, but still in a kind of narrow stream instead of a controlled pour like when she drank from cups.  Alby was reminded of cows being milked and thin squirts of milk rocketing into a milk pail.  

This was kind of an udder too, Alby reasoned, so it made sense that the liquid squirted out like it was from one.  Alby suckled and let the refreshment fill her mouth.  She stopped sucking and so did the flow.  She started again and the flow increased. Not once did she have to move or position the bottle differently.

Okay…

She was getting the hang of this!

Within a few seconds she was nursing from the bottle more easily, inhaling through her nose while her mouth steadily worked to earn its keep. No wonder babies liked this! Hard to spill, and a direct control over the flow of flavor using only one’s mouth?  Why would anyone want to be weaned?

She continued suckling, feeling triumph and a cozy comfort there in Daddy’s lap.  It was almost enough to make her forget how badly she needed to pee.

Almost….
********************************************************************************************
“Good girl,” he said. “Good baby.”  He immediately unfocused his eyes and pretended to watch a college basketball game.  “Just drink it all up for Daddy.  Let it flow in you.”  The goal was to keep Alby rooted to him, but give her a feeling of privacy so that she could allow herself to literally let go. “Drink it all up, princess.”

From the way Alby was fidgeting, and how her eyes kept darting down past the bottle (likely towards her diaper) and then back to Max, the Daddy Dom had a feeling she wasn’t quite there yet.  

“Hold on, baby girl,” he said.  “Daddy needs to get comfy.”  He shifted her further to his left and off his lap so that only her head was on his lap.  A welcome relief to his circulation, for sure, and still one where he could feel intimate with the little dog.   Also hopefully there would be enough perceived distance between her bladder and his person.  Alby tended to need one of two things: Permission, or a feeling of getting away with something.  Max didn’t want to give her permission to pee.  Babies didn’t tend to ask for that sort of permission.  He looked down into her eyes. “Better?”

Alby nodded and continued nursing on the adult sized baby bottle. He petted her head gently and pretended to look at the screen.  “Daddy is gonna watch the T.V. for a few minutes sweetheart,” he lied to her.  “You just enjoy your ba-ba.”  He held her bottle for her, keeping it steady in her grip but otherwise not interfering.

His eyes glazed over, and every other sense kicked into overdrive.  Max was keenly aware of how shallow Alby’s breath became while she worked up the nerve to wet herself.  Knew exactly when she used her tongue as a stopper on the juice.  Felt it when she held her breath, struggling against her own training and pride. Sometimes that first release felt more like pushing than relaxing anything.

Max kept his breathing steady; made sure not to touch her.  He was a rock.  He was her rock.  As far as he was concerned, he was just another piece of furniture.  Her diaper provided her with all the privacy she needed.

A few more tentative sips, but her diaper remained dry. She was working up the nerve, trying to break, using the bottle as a kind of placebo. The juice wouldn’t add much more to her bladder in any timely fashion, but the sensation of drinking would still make her feel like she needed to pee. All as planned.  

The wolf slipped his tongue between his teeth and bit down to keep himself from smiling. Alby let out a low and slow exhale, quivering as the warmth spread out into her diaper and lapped up against her privates, keeping it all contained.  Alby started breathing again, low and slow, as the stream continued.

It felt good though.  Of course it did.  Babies almost always liked the feeling of a freshly wet diaper.  It felt right to them.  It felt natural.  If he wasn’t worried that she’d clench up and cut off her own stream, Max would have thrown in a ‘good girl’.  He pretended not to notice instead.  Let Alby have her little victory.  The only prize was getting to pee her pants.  She could have that prize.  Max would get the prize of changing her and seeing her at her most vulnerable.

Max counted to a hundred and looked down.  “All done,Princess?” He let the thought hang in the air. “With your baba?”

The mental relief behind Alby’s eyes was almost as palpable as the physical relief he’d sensed from her.  He took the bottle out of Alby’s mouth with one hand, and draped the palm of his hand over her eyes.  “Wheeeeeeeere’s Alby?” He said.  Quickly, he yanked his hand away. “There she is!”

“Hee-hee-hee-heee!” Alby giggled, absolutely entranced.
“Wheeeeeeeeere’s Alby?”  He repeated the process. “There she is!”  She erupted into giggle fits as though Max were a stand-up comedian in his prime.  He pulled her back up into a sitting position on his lap.  “Come here, princess! Come to Daddy.”

He felt the gasp from Alby when she was sat back up, both of them feeling the soaked pulpy squishiness at about the same time.  Wow! Kid was definitely a heavy wetter! Next time, Max would have to include a stuffer.  Still, this diaper could probably hold at least one more, assuming Alby had let everything out in one go.

“Daddy…” Alby sniffled. “I think I…can you…?”

“Hold on, baby girl,” Max interrupted. “Daddy wants to check something.”  He reached around and gave the diaper another squeeze.  Inserted his fingers past the leakguards again and tested for the wetness.  The diaper had spread out the wetness fairly evenly.  The padding wasn’t completely soaked and swollen yet. There was still some crinkle left.  “Hmm…wet,” he declared, “but I don’t think you need changing right away.”

“I don’t?” Alby asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“Of course not,” Max assured her. “They say it’s not a good idea to leave a little girl in a wet diaper if she’s potty training, but you’re nowhere close to being big enough for that, right? You can’t feed yourself.” One last hint. “You can’t even walk yet. Right?”

“Right,” Alby said. “I can’t.  I’m just a baby!”

“That’s right!” Max beamed and hugged her close.  “What were you about to ask Daddy, princess?”

Alby scratched her head, trying to think of a plausible lie now that she knew her concerns were nothing.  “Can you…do the toaster again?”

Max took a deep breath and slid his hands back underneath her armpits. “Baby, I could do the toaster all day long with you.”

******************************************
It was getting late. In her quiet ecstasy, she’d completely lost track of the time.  She’d think it was still the early afternoon if the sun hadn’t set.

Still wet, Alby crawled around on the floor of the playpen in complete and total bliss. She grabbed one of her dollies and paraded it around the perimeter, crawling on three limbs, and using her free hand to make it walk and dance for her. .Then she’d roll over her back and hold the doll up high above her head. “Gagagagagaga!”  

The sounds coming out of her mouth didn’t mean anything, other than she wanted to hear the sound of her own voice. She liked it that way.  Babies didn’t have to mean anything when she babbled.  

Daddy had turned on a cartoon for her to watch while he prepared dinner in the kitchen, but it served more as pleasant background noise than anything.  She was far too little to pay attention to pictures on a screen. That and it was a rerun.

The smell of something delicious, wafting in from the kitchen gave her pause.  She dearly hoped she’d get to be tasting whatever that was. It smelled savory but simple. No hint of the spice that had gotten her mouth washed out with soap.  

A tiny tinge rocketed through her bladder, and Alby immediately relaxed and peed.  She’d wet herself four or five more times since that first release. She didn’t know how many times because she’d stopped counting after the second time.  The first time was the most drastic because she’d been holding it.  Now that she wasn’t,pee was just coming out in short bursts as the need presented itself. Not true incontinence, but just not giving a damn about holding it in.

She sat down on her bottom and felt the wet squelch beneath her. Imagine that! Alby had actually managed to let her mind drift and not keep an almost obsessive track of something. Lovely!  Just lovely!

Letting herself wet was much easier now that Daddy wasn’t in the room. It also helped that her diaper was soaked to the point that adding more to it only increased the weight and not the feeling of wetness. In the back of her mind, she worried about leaking, but that was more of an adult problem.  And Alby, decidedly, wasn’t an adult at the moment.

She poked the front of her diaper and felt it push back. She was wearing a sponge trapped inside a water balloon.  She was genuinely curious about what a proper diaper change would feel like.  

Only one way to find out.

“DAAAAADDY!” she called.

Daddy came trotting out.  “Yes, princess?” he asked. “Do you need another bottle?”

Alby shook her head.  “Nuh-uh, Daddy!” she said. “Can you change my diaper, please?  It’s not crinkly no more.”  She was so deep in headspace that even her speech patterns had regressed.

“In a minute, honey,” Daddy is still working on dinner.

“But I don’t wanna get a rash,” the pup playfully pouted.

“You’re not gonna get a rash,” Daddy promised.  “I’ll change you right before dinner. Okay?”

Alby considered it for a minute.  “Hmm….okay.”

Daddy trotted back into the kitchen, and Alby chuckled to herself.  This really was the life, wasn’t it?  Waited on hand and foot and able to extract promises from him just by being cute.  And in just a few minutes she was going to get to be spoon fed! She wouldn’t even have to feed herself.  Shit, she wouldn’t even have to wipe herself!

A feeling of fullness at the bottom of her gut alerted her to a different need.  The enema she’d had ‘cleaned her out’, yes, but the flush to her system had only emptied her bowels, not all her guts.  The runway for this morning’s breakfast and maybe even last night’s midnight snack had been cleared.  A well hydrated body was a regular one, to boot.  Much to Alby’s dismay, things were starting to take off.

The adult half of Alby began to fret. Using a child’s potty like a toddler had been intense, but it had been largely involuntary and negotiated besides.  What would messing herself feel like?  Did she even want to find out?

“DAAAAAAAAAADY!” she belted again.

Daddy did not come, but he did call back. “WHAAAAAAAAATY?” he sang out from the kitchen.

“I HAVE TO…” Alby froze.  “I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!”

The reply was immediate. “No you don’t! You’re not potty trained!” It sounded oddly cheery.

“I HAVE TO POOP!”

“SO POOP!” Daddy called back. “YOU’RE A BABY!”

Alby thought fast and answered with. “BUT MAYBE I’M AN EARLY BLOOMER!”

“YOU STILL HAVE TO ASK PERMISSION!”

“CAN I PLEASE GO POOP?” She asked hopefully. She remembered to include,“IN A POTTY?”

“NOPE!”  Daddy laughed, leaving Alby red faced. “I NEVER SAID I’D GIVE PERMISSION!”

“DADDY!” Alby howled  “PLEEEEASE!”

Daddy popped his head in, and in a less booming volume, asked, “Are you safewording? Are you calling a cloudburst?”

Alby grit her teeth.  Safewording felt like cheating.  And if it felt like cheating, she reasoned, she musn’t need to terribly.  “No.”

“Just checking.”  Max spun back around into the kitchen.  “JUST POOP!” he yelled. “I’M GONNA CHANGE YOU BEFORE DINNER ANYWAYS.”

Alby whipped her head from side to side and clutched her stomach. As if she knew how much time she had left to her.  “But…but…but…BUT WHAT IF I CAN’T GET IT OUT IN TIME?”  That first wetting was difficult enough.  Could she really mess herself unaided?

“IF YOU CAN’T GET IT ALL OUT BEFORE DINNER,” Daddy called out. “YOU CAN GET IT OUT DURING DINNER!”

During? During?! In front of Daddy? Right in her diaper?! While eating?!  She flashed so hot it was as if her fur was burning up on the spot. Cloudburst! Cloudburst! Cloudburst! Cloudburst!

 “DON’T WORRY!” Daddy responded to the silence.  “I’LL STILL CHANGE YOU BEFORE DINNER!”

But she would have just been changed!  If she got changed and then messed immediately, it would be like she had no control. Or like she liked it. Or like she was…a baby.  A real baby.  Just thinking about that made her feel fuzzy…condition downgraded to more of a drizzle.

Could she hold it until dinner?  She was sure she could.  But was holding it right? Was it babyish? She grimaced and patted her tummy. It wasn’t urgent, but just thinking about it made it more so.  

She grabbed the nearest rail and.pulled herself up to a standing position.  As soon as her feet were flat on the floor the rock in her gut dropped and her need to void increased.

Alby thought about it for a moment but the idea of pooping herself made her cringe. She wasn't ready to go that far. It had been easy to do it with the enema, but that’s because the enema hadn’t given her any choice. Choosing to soil herself felt completely different to her than being forced to.

Alby’s tail wagged at that idea.  What if she broke a rule and got another spanking?  Something like that might loosen her up?  Or maybe Daddy would give her another enema?  She pictured herself screaming, trying to hide her smile in his grip going “Daddy no!” while he punished her, forcing her to debase herself.

The idea made her shudder in the best way.  She could sneak out of the playpen and use the bathroom on the ground floor.  She had no doubt that she’d be caught- she wanted to get caught- but if she got caught after she used the toilet, she wouldn’t have to poop anymore, and if she got caught before, the matter would be taken out of her hands anyways.  

The best choice for her was to have a choice entirely taken away from her!  Genius!

“One…two…” she mouthed to herself. “...three!” She hopped and swung a leg up over the playpen’s railing, and then belly rolled the rest of the way over with a complete lack of grace and agility.  It wasn’t exactly cruising, but it wasn’t exactly not cruising either.  A similarly sized infant should have been able to pull off such a feat.

The adult puppy landed with a quiet ‘oof’, and pushed herself back up on all fours. Now to get to the-

A lupine shadow fell over her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Alby rolled over and tucked her tail between her legs. “Daddy?!” she shrieked. “How did you-?”

“You are not nearly as stealthy as you think you are, crinkle butt.” Daddy shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. “And your memory is even shorter than I expected. You’re not supposed to be out of your playpen unless I’m here to watch.”

This was her chance.  “Daddy!” she pleaded and sniffled. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I…I…I just had to poop and wanted to go to the potty!”  Beautiful crocodile tears welled up in her eyes adding to the patheticness of her performance. “I’m sorry!”

The big wolf’s nostrils flared. “Do you know what this means?”

“Yessir,” she squeaked, her cheeks already clenching in anticipation.

Alby was pulled to her feet by the wrist.  “Come on,” he ordered. “March.”

The little dog stared at her feet and was led around in wide waddling steps, her gait adjusting to the increased mass of the swollen and sagging diaper around her hips only because the onesie was doing so much heavy lifting.

She lifted her head and looked behind her when they passed the couch.  Confused she searched for the stairs and realized she was being taken in the opposite direction.  She didn’t think the downstairs bathroom had an enema set up.  If she wasn’t being taken over to the couch for a spanking and she wasn’t being brought up stairs for a change or a punishment… “Where are we going?”

Daddy stopped at the corner where Alby had been banished to the first time she’d been spanked. “Here.”  There was a tiny step stool where she had stood.  Daddy pointed. “Sit.”

Alby obeyed and sat on the stool facing the corner.  She lifted her head up and cocked it.  “I’m not gonna get spanked?”  She tried and failed to hide her disappointment.

“Of course not,” Daddy said. “You’re just a baby. Spanking would be too harsh for that.”  There was a glint in his eyes as he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “And a spanking wouldn’t be a punishment right now, would it?”

Dang it! He’d read Alby like a book!  If disappointment was torture, then Alby was in agony. Now what?  “How long do I have to sit here?”  If Daddy was still following the rules of a minute of time out per year, it couldn’t be that long.  What would even be the point of a minute of time out?

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Daddy told her. “And you’re awfully little. So…we’ll round up to a minute.”  

“Yes Daddy,” Alby sulked, on the stool.  Her knees were drawn up like a catcher. Still self-conscious and aching inside, she wrapped her arms around her midsection.

“And…” he said.  “Because of this timeout, we’re going to have to skip your diaper change.”

The little dog did not laugh.  Nor did she feel like a particularly good sport. “Huh? Daddy, no fair!”

Daddy smirked. “Unless…”  he let the thought dangle in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

“Unless?”

“You’re wet, princess,” Daddy taunted. “I think you can handle being soggy through dinner. Maybe even till bed. But if you’re poopy, of course I’d change you.”

“During dinner?” Alby tried to negotiate.

Daddy’s smirk somehow got even wider. “Of course not during dinner. If you poop during dinner, you’ll have to sit in it.”

“What if I don’t poop during dinner?” Alby mewled.

Daddy’s smile was all teeth.  “I wouldn’t want my princess to be all stopped up.  I might have to feed her some prunes to help her insides get unstuck again.”

“Cloudburst!” Alby Yelped. “Cloudburst! Cloudburst! Cloudburst! CLOUDBURST!”

Max blinked and shook his head, like in the movies when someone is coming out of a deep hypnotic trance. “Okay. CLOUDBURST. Talk to me.”

“Please don’t make me eat prunes!” Alby begged. “I hate them and some of this is hard enough!”

“Absolutely,” Max agreed. “No prunes. Would you prefer something else? Some oil? Or just a laxative?”

“I don’t wanna poop my pants!” The words were out of her mouth before she’d known she’d thought them.  “I’m not ready for that.”  A beat. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”

For the second time, Max tilted Alby’s head upwards so that the pair were making eye contact.  “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m proud of you.”

Hearing those words were a sledgehammer on Alby’s brain. “You are? Why?”

“Because you felt yourself approaching a limit and you expressed it for yourself in a healthy way.”  Max took a step back to give the little dog some space. “Should we stop for now? Do you need to be an adult.”

Alby felt like throwing up in disgust. “God no!” she told him. “I just can’t…do that. You know?”

Max shrugged her self-consciousness off. “Then I won’t make you.”

Alby stepped out of the corner and laid her head on Max’s…no…Daddy’s chest. “Thank you.”

“No,” Daddy said. “Thank you. Now I know I trust you to tell me when something is wrong.” His smile was soft and dreamy.  “Even if I can’t trust you to stay in your playpen all the time,” he snickered.

“Do I still have to sit in time out?” Alby asked.  

“Fraid so, princess,” Daddy said. “Rules are rules.”  He took Alby by the hand and led her away from the corner.

Alby resisted, primarily out of shock. “Where are we going?”

“Up stairs,” Daddy said. “You’re going to have to take time out sitting on the potty. Then I’ll change you into something dry.”

Alby sniffled and smiled.  “Yes, Daddy.”