Diegofor

Sweat trickled down my face as I finished setting up the green-and-white-striped Cool Cabana and placed a large beach blanket in the shade it provided.

“Alright, honey, let’s get some sunscreen on you so you can play. Those cheeks already look like they’re burning.”

It takes you a second to answer. “Wha--? Oh, yeah, okay..”

Your focus isn’t on me—you’re scanning the beach full of beautiful bikini-clad women tanning in the sun and the handsome, muscular men hoping to get with them.

The men notice you, too. Men have always noticed you. Not that I blame them.

With the breeze rippling through your hair, revealing the yellow floral tankini that accentuates your figure and complements the linen pants beneath it, you’re as beautiful and elegant as ever.

Your linen pants aren’t the only thing your tankini complements, though.

From a distance, your linen pants are opaque enough to render the patterns beneath them indistinct and unrecognizable.

Up close, I can easily spot Griffin the lion, Zack the zebra, Lily the hippo, Alex the monkey, and Johnny the parrot on your Rearz Safari diaper.

“Arms up, eyes closed, princess.”

You whimper when you notice the pink bottle of Banana Boat Baby sunscreen in my hand, but let me rub the sunscreen into your arms, shoulders, back, and face without any fuss.

The moment I stop, you open your eyes. “Can I have a soda, please?”

“Sure, let me just finish with the sunscreen. Thank you for asking, honey.”

“Do you need me to help you with your sunscreen?” you suggested, a bit too eagerly to hide your attempt at distraction.

“You’re a silly girl. What about your little leggies, hmm?”

Blushing wildly, you bite your lip, desperately trying to come up with a way out. “Umm, I..I already did it! Yeah, at home. I just forgot to tell you! So, all good, Daddy!”

By now, your cheeks were blushing shades of red I didn’t have names for. You looked around to make sure nobody heard you say Daddy after practically shouting it.

“Hmmm,” I say sniffing the air, “You’re hiding something. Did you make a boomboom? Is that why you’re acting so silly?”

“N-no!”

“I'd better check. A stinky diapie in this heat is a recipe for rashies.”

I could practically hear the gears turning in your head, knowing that if you argued, it would draw attention, but not wanting to be checked so openly.

“Let's see,” I teased, using your hesitation to spin you around and pull back your diaper, “No poopies! But then why are you being so silly?”

We both knew the reason, but this game was far too fun.

“Oh no, did Daddy forget to shave your legs? Are you a hairy baby?”

“N-no!”

Your eyes meet mine, an unusual mix of neediness and daring. Not that it matters—there’s no going back to the way things were before.

This is what you begged for.

And where better to learn your rightful place in the world than here, surrounded by all these beautiful people?

Miami is where people go to see and be seen. To touch and be touched. A place that celebrates and perpetuates all the adult things that you gave up.

The people on the beach are no longer your equals.

No man will ever look at you in your thick, soggy diapers with the same lust as the women sunbathing on the beach.

Women will no longer be jealous of your beauty—the girl getting her diaper changed is adorable, not a threat.

All anyone will see is a silly girl.

“No? Hmm, this is quite the conundrum. Surely the baby isn’t scared of everyone seeing her friends?!”

I kneel in front of you and poke each character as I name them. “I thought you loved Lily..and Zack…and don’t forget Griffin!”

“D-Daddyyyy.”

“Princess…you’re not a big girl anymore. You’ll never be a big girl again. Look around, do you see anyone in diapers? No. They’re the adults—not you. This is your life now.”

“B-but…Daddy…”

Poor baby.

“No buts, sweetie. It’s time to let go of who you were, she’s not coming back. You’re never getting out of diapers or getting a second chance at adulthood. It’s time to show everyone the real you.”

You struggle to reply, surveying the crowd knowing every one of them is about to see your diaper.

“Now, are you ready to let Daddy put on your sunscreen?”

“Y-yeah, Daddy…”

“Do you want your binky?”

Your eyes flitter trying to decide. A binky will only draw attention to your infantile state—but you crave its calming power.

I smile at your teeny head nod.

“Good girl!” Inside your favorite binky in your mouth. “Daddy is proud of you, Princess.”

A weak, nervous smile creeps behind your pacifier.

I tickle your tummy before grabbing the sides of your linen pants, the last vestige of your adulthood, and slide them down, exposing your soggy Safari diaper.

“There’s my friends! Hi Lily!” I coo playfully, acting as if this is the most normal thing in the world. I grab the sunscreen and rub them into your legs, not even glancing at the reactions around me.

Because it doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is ensuring my princess is properly protected from the sun.

Especially when the UV is at 11!

Her leg muscles are tight. I can feel her nerves the way she’s swaying, looking around.

I ignore it.

She’s not the woman I met two years ago. Not the woman one could shame a bartender with her dirty martinis. Or the woman who dominated every interaction at work.

That woman—whatever remains of her—is the one that’s nervous being seen in the diaper by all these hot twenty-something’s.

She’ll fade away into oblivion as the sweet, needy babygirl that I love gains more confidence. The one that belongs in diapers. The one that isn’t worried about things like sex, success, and fashion.

All I care about is the adorable little thing that years for the tender, intimate moments laying in Daddy’s lap, suckling on a baba, lost in my eyes. Hearing her silly giggles when Daddy makes funny faces during diaper changes.

And most of all, the way she blames her stuffy for her poopy diapers with such conviction.

“All done! Ready for that soda, princess?”

Her binky bobs a few times before she nods.

She has no idea how adorable she is right now. I almost feel bad that she’s struggling when I’m barely able to contain myself.

Here we are in the middle of South Beach—and she’s standing under a cabana in a floral print tankini and a soggy Rearz diaper, suckling on a pacifier.

Every bit the baby she’ll be for the rest of her life.

From the cooler I grab her a soda and myself a Pacifico, opening both and handing it to her.

“Whoops, Daddy forgot to clip your binky to your shirt!”

Her cheeks are the most adorable shade of red as she stands there letting me clip her pacifier to her top.

“Do you want to play in the sand for a bit before we go in the water?” I ask, knowing she’s not ready to venture beyond the relative safety of our cabana.

She nods.

I kiss her forehead before guiding her down to the sand. “I’ll grab your toys sweetie.”

I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live. The way her diaper poofs out as she’s sitting criss cross applesauce looking up at me, waiting to play in the sand.

Luckily I couldn’t help myself at the store, buying every adorable shovel, bucket, and sandcastle mold in sight.

I place them all in front of her.

In an hour she’s no longer glancing around at the curious beachgoers, consumed in her play. As I work on another beer, she looks up at me and smiles.

“Having fun, baby?”

“Mhm!”

“Wanna go in the water?”

“Ummm…” you stares out at the water, debating. As she does, her face suddenly focuses on something.

“What ya looking at princess?”

No response.

“Princess?”

Your hands ball into fists as she leans forward, still starting at nothing in particular.

“Mmmghhp.”

“Are you making a boomboom for Daddy?”

“Mmmpgghhh.”

Three college girls in University of Miami sorority shirts walking by hear her little grunts, stopping to watch a girl their age mess her diaper.

A loud, bubbly toot erupts into your diaper, which they take as their cue to move on. But not before giving me sympathetic smiles—especially after you grunt again.

Before you come out of your pushie stupor, I snap a few pictures of the moment.

A small, needy voice breaks the silence.

“D-Dada….”

Your voice cracks, small and needy barely louder than the distant crash of the waves. Your cheeks are the deepest shade of crimson I’ve ever seen, eyes wide and glistening as you glance towards the sorority girls still lingering a few steps away.

They’re pretending they aren’t watching your babyish display but their knowing smiles and whispered giggles tell a different story.

I lean in closer, my voice low and velvet-soft against your ear.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Use your words. Tell Daddy what you need.”

“I…I…”

“Did my princess make a boomboom?”

“M-mhm…”

“You silly baby, c’mon, let’s get Daddy’s lil’ stinker changed!”

I don’t even bother finding anywhere secluded to change her. This is her life now—and mine.

All around us the hot and sweaty dance of Miami Beach continues on as if we were never there. As it will for every summer after.

But not for you.