Little Samantha's Choice

by Meredith O'Reilly

  I was also worried about how Samantha was going to react when she learned how she had been treated while she was sick. This was not the ideal way for her to find out about my fetish, but it was the only way I knew how to take care of her when she was practically comatose. I just hoped that she would see it that way.

  I was just about to go upstairs to give her a bottle when I heard her scream.

  “Oh crap!” I muttered to myself and I ran up the stairs and into our bedroom. Just as I ran in, she slammed the bathroom door closed.

  I ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. I leaned my head against the bathroom door and took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I talked to her.

  “Samantha, sweetie, please open the door.”

  “No!”

  I heard her begin to cry and I wished that she would open up the door so that I could hold her close and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

  “Samantha. I need you to open this door so I can explain.”

  “No, no, no…” she continued to say. Since my gentle approach hadn’t worked, I thought that maybe if I was a little more forceful, she would open the door.

  “Samantha, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m going to break it down.” I waited a few minutes, but when she still hadn’t opened the door, I began to panic. This reminded me so much of how the girlfriend I’d had before Samantha had acted when she found out about my fetish.

  “Samantha! Please open up this door! Let me explain,” I begged one last time, but it was hopeless. I decided that the only thing I could do was sit on the bed and wait for her to come out when she was ready.

  After fifteen minutes, I heard Samantha stop sobbing, so I figured that it would be a good time to get her to try and come out of the bathroom again. I walked over to the door and gently knocked on it.

  “Samantha, please open this door. We need to talk,” I quietly said.

  I waited for a couple of minutes, and the door finally swung open. She was still wearing the outfit that I had put her in this morning, and she looked very angry.

  “Okay, sweetie, please let me explain,” I said calmly, hoping that it would keep her quiet until I could explain my side of things.

  “Yeah! Maybe you should!” she shouted, and I could tell that her throat must be hurting her because she grabbed at it after she was done yelling.

  “Don’t scream at me, little girl. Come over here, sit down, and let me explain,” I demanded, sitting back down on our bed. I didn’t care how she was feeling at the moment. I was not going to let her make herself even more sick because she decided that I needed to be shouted at. She could do that once she felt better if she wished.

  She walked towards the bed, looking almost reluctant to do so. Sitting down next to me, she looked up with tears in her eyes.

  “Okay. Sweetie, first please stop crying. I know that this all looks horrible, but it isn’t as bad as it looks,” I said, reaching out to wipe a tear from her face, but she turned her head so I couldn’t. I felt crushed. I never wanted my little girl to turn away from me when she was hurt.

  “Okay, Samantha, I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you. When I was eighteen years old, I discovered that I was into age play. I liked to be a daddy to my little girl. I have always fantasied about being able to take care of my own little girl. I would praise her when she was being good and spank her when she was bad. The aspect that I love most about age play is being able to see the little let go of all of her worries and embrace life through the eyes of a child. It is an amazing transformation to see.”

  I was quiet for a few minutes, waiting to see if she wanted me to go on. When she made no move to leave, I figured that she wanted to hear more. I took a deep breath, knowing that the next part was going to be harder to share with her than the first. “I know you’re wondering why I never shared this part of myself with you. It’s just because I didn’t want you to freak out when you found out. I love you so much, and I didn’t want to lose you by scaring you away with this information. When you got sick and were unable to do basic things, I went into the personality that I am most confident in—and that is my daddy personality. I treated you like my little girl, making sure that you were perfectly cared for. That’s what a daddy would do. Daddies always make sure that their little girls are properly taken care of and that every single need of their little girl is met. Now, I know that you never agreed to be my little girl, and I will never force you to be. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

  I felt tears start to well up in my eyes and quickly closed them so Samantha wouldn’t have to see them. This is the moment. This is when she is going to leave me, I told myself. I felt my heart breaking. After all these years of trying to avoid telling her the truth and hiding who I am, she finally found out.

  I opened my eyes when I felt Samantha’s hesitant fingers caress my cheek. I was not expecting that response from her. A few seconds later, she crawled into my lap, put her head on my shoulder, and began to sob. I was really not expecting that, but on instinct, I wrapped my arms around her and slowly rocked back and forth, rubbing long strokes up and down her back with one hand. I just wanted her to calm down because all of this crying and stress could not be good for her when she was recovering from being sick.

  I kept rocking her until she finally stopped sobbing. Then we sat in silence for a few minutes until she said, “I wish that you would have just told me about this sooner.”

  “Why? So you could have broken up with me sooner?” I asked, fully intending for her to tell me that she was leaving now.

  I was so shocked by her next statement.

  “I’m not going to break up with you over this. How could you ever think that? I’m your wife. We’ve been married for three years and I’ve known you even longer that,” she said, pulling her head off of my shoulder and staring me in the eye.

  All I could do was shrug my shoulders and say, “I was just scared. I told my girlfriend before you about this, and she freaked out and then broke up with me. I was petrified that you would do the same thing.”

  “Jackson, remember our vows. In sickness and in health. In good times and in bad. Until death do us part. This might count as a bad time, but I wouldn’t leave you because of it. Okay? I love you.”

  I was temporarily speechless. All of these years, I had been so afraid that she would leave me if she found out about my fetish, and now she was telling me that she wasn’t going to leave me. I felt my heart swell up. I had the absolute best wife in the world. Most women would be packing their bags after what she found out, but instead she was staying with me.

  Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. I knew that it would be pushing it, but I needed to at least ask. “Can you please do me a favor?”

  “What?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “I have two books that I would like you to read. One is about the fundamentals of age play, while the other one is a fictional story about two consenting adults in an age play story. I think that these stories will help you understand what exactly an age play relationship would be like.”

  I could tell that she was toying with the idea of reading the books and then thinking about what it would mean if she did read them.

  “I just want you to read them. To possibly understand, even a little, why I like age play relationships. Like I said before, I would never force you to do anything that you don’t want to,” I blurted out to try and calm her nerves.

  “Okay. I’ll read the books.”

  “Okay. I’ll get them for you in a minute,” I said, giving her an extra squeeze. I was so relieved that she wasn’t leaving me and that she was willing to read books about age play. This situation was starting to look much better than I anticipated it would.

  “Jackson, do you think that we could please drop this conversation for today?”

  “Samantha—” I began, but she cut me off.

  “Please, Jackson. I’m not saying that this topic won’t be up for discussion in t
he future. Just right now, I need some time to process everything that I’ve seen and heard today. I promise that I still love you, and I won’t leave you. Now, I want to get out of this… outfit and I need to take a shower. I would like to take a shower alone.”

  I was crushed that Samantha didn’t want to keep talking about this, but I could understand why. I knew that if I were her, I would need time to digest this new information, and so I moved her off my lap and sat her next to me on the bed.

  “Are you sure that you don’t need help in the shower? You were just asleep for two days straight. I don’t want you to do too much too soon.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, standing up and walking into the bathroom and slowly closing the door on me.

  I sighed and fell back against the bed. That could have gone a lot worse, I thought. I was thankful that my wife wasn’t leaving me, but I still feared how this would affect our relationship. I heard the shower and decided that it was useless to worry about the future. All I can worry about is now, I told myself.

  Just then, my stomach grumbled and I decided that now would be a great time to go and make dinner for myself and Samantha.

  * * *

  While I was taking a shower, I started to think about what I remembered about the last forty-eight hours. I remembered coming home and feeling like I had been hit by a train and that I had been exhausted. Jackson had made me admit I wasn’t feeling well and he had given me a bath. Everything was a little fuzzy after that point, but I remembered that I thought I heard him say “Daddy” and “little girl”, but at the time I thought I was hallucinating. Guess not.

  I grabbed the shampoo and began to wash my hair. After I rinsed my hair, I put a dollop of body wash in my hand, rubbed my hands together, and began to wash my body. While washing myself, I started to remember that hard thing I’d had to suck on to get juice. I paused while washing my arm, realizing that I had drunk the juice from a baby bottle. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, the bottle did help me significantly with swallowing every drop of liquid, instead of spilling it on myself.

  I took the head of the shower spray and began to wash the soap from my body. When the warm water hit my pussy, I suddenly remembered that warm feeling on my bottom when some sort of pressure had been applied to my low stomach. I turned off the water in the shower, grabbed my towel from the towel rack, and began to dry myself.

  As I dried myself, I figured out that the warm feeling I got between my legs was me peeing myself. My face turned bright red at the thought. I realized that Jackson must have pressed his hand on my bladder in order to make me pee a diaper. I was absolutely mortified! How could I ever face my husband or any person ever again, knowing that I—a twenty-five-year-old woman—had used a diaper like a baby for two days? Even worse, I had used a diaper, been fed like a baby, and was talked to like a baby for two days.

  I got dressed in a blue sports bra, one of Jackson’s T-shirts, a pair of bikini panties, and a pair of yoga pants. I grabbed my brush and started to pull it through my wet hair.

  My stomach grumbled, but I was too humiliated at the moment to go face my husband. Why couldn’t he have a normal fantasy, like wanting to tie me up and make love to me or wanting to pretend he was a doctor and I was a patient of his so that he could give a very intimate exam to me? Even better, why couldn’t we share a fantasy? I had always wanted him to pretend to kidnap me and take me away to a fancy hotel, where we could have plenty of sex and pretend to be whoever we wanted to be. That would have been so much easier than the fantasy life that he wants, I grumbled to myself while I continued to brush my hair.

  I stopped the brush’s movement for a minute and then decided that I shouldn’t be embarrassed about the situation. After all, it was what he liked to do. But that got me thinking about how many other little girls he’d had in the past. I wondered if a lot of his old girlfriends had been okay with him treating them like they were little girls. I would have to ask him.

  After I finished brushing my hair, I still had a hard time leaving the bathroom. I knew that my husband would never make fun of me and this was what he liked to do, but I just couldn’t force myself to leave the bathroom for a while.

  I was looking around the bathroom when I noticed the diaper and footie pajamas that I had taken off and left lying on the floor. I went over and picked up the diaper. It had little red flowers all over it. The outside felt like regular plastic and the inside felt very soft. The diaper itself was very thick. It must be able to hold a lot of liquid, I thought. It made a crunchy noise when I pinched it, and it smelled like baby powder.

  I brought it over to the sink, placed it down on the side, filled a cup with warm water, and poured a little of it on the diaper. The diaper absorbed every drop. I picked it up and noticed that it was slightly heavier and a few of the flowers had turned from red to blue. Hmmm, the color change would help someone know if the user had wet themselves or not. The outside of the diaper felt slightly warm, but when I placed my hand on the inside, it was extra warm and soft there. Well, at least it wouldn’t be uncomfortable to sit in if the user wet themselves.

  I shook my head. Why was I having these crazy thoughts? I left the diaper by my sink and went back over and picked up the footie pajamas. I did have to admit that they were super comfy and I wouldn’t mind sleeping in them again. I tried to decide what to do with the diaper and the pajamas, but I had no clue and decided to leave them by my husband’s sink so he could do with them what he pleased.

  When I opened the bathroom door and walked into our bedroom, Jackson wasn’t there. I slowly walked down to the kitchen toward the smell of eggs and toast. He was standing by the stove, making scrambled eggs.

  I sat down at the kitchen table, and he brought me a plate filled with hot food and set down a glass of apple juice next to my plate. As I dug into the food, he sat down in the chair next to me.

  I ate in silence until I could no longer stand it. I did not want to let this tension build between us and end up having it hurt our marriage, so I put my fork down and turned towards my husband. “Okay. Listen, Jackson. Please believe me when I say I’m not angry at you. A little freaked out, yes. A little confused, yes. But angry, no.”

  He started to speak, but I silenced him, putting up my hand.

  “Let me finish, please. When I woke up this afternoon, I never in a thousand years expected to be wearing a… what I was wearing. You never let on that you liked that type of role play. Imagine for a second how I felt waking up to that.”

  I paused, letting my last statement sink in. Jackson thought about it and then nodded his head.

  I continued, “I’ve read only one age play book before, and it was scary to read. It was all about how a woman was drugged by her family and then was forced to obey her daddy. Her daddy took pictures of her as blackmail. It was awful, and I’m afraid that’s how this might turn out if I become your little girl. I don’t ever want that to happen to me. I hope that you can understand my fear.” I was slightly shaking when I finished, and he noticed my obvious fear and captured my small hand in his larger one, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb. I immediately started to relax.

  “Okay, first off,” he began, “I want to let you know that I would never let anything like what you just described happen to you when you are in little space. I am a firm believer that everything that happens in a relationship—no matter what type of relationship—should be safe, sane, and consensual between the two people.”

  He paused and I stared into his eyes. I could tell that he was telling the truth, and it did make me feel better to know that he wasn’t into the type of role play I had read about.

  “Secondly, it sounds like the book you read was a non-consensual age play story. Some people like reading non-consensual age play stories but other people don’t, and from what you’ve told me, you don’t like reading those. That’s okay. The two age play books that I’m going to give you are about consensual age play, so you will probably feel differently about those st
ories. You shouldn’t base your opinions about this lifestyle off of the only age play book you’ve read.”

  I nodded and decided to give the books that Jackson was going to give me a fair chance before I made up my mind about how I felt about the age play lifestyle.

  Jackson continued, “I do want to let you know that to me, this type of role play is meant for one person to be able to access their inner child and have fun, while the other person gets to access their protective instincts and help their little with anything they might need.”

  That doesn’t sound horrible, I thought to myself. Jackson was already very domineering in our relationship, so not much would change. I looked at him again, and I could tell that he was being cautious about what he was telling me, probably because he didn’t want me to freak out. But, I could also see a light in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

  “Also to clarify, the only reason why I put you in a diaper and footie pajamas was because you were so out of it because of your illness that you couldn’t take care of yourself. The diaper was a lot easier for me to use, instead of carrying you while you were passed out to the bathroom and trying to make you use the toilet. Secondly, the footie pajamas are fleece, so they would easily keep you warm and comfortable. I just wanted to make everything as easy as possible for you while you were sick so you could get better faster. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  I thought about what he said, and it all made sense. “That doesn’t sound as awful as what I thought an age play relationship was.”

  “As long as each person trusts the other, they can really have an excellent age play relationship together.”

  I just nodded, not exactly sure what else I could say on that topic at the moment since I was still having a hard time believing that everything I learned today happened. However, one statement that he had said earlier still bothered me. “Back to what you said about hurting me. Just to clarify, no, you didn’t hurt me. As much of a surprise as it was to wake up wearing what I was, I can understand why you did it. To be honest, those footie pajamas were very comfortable. Even when I was sitting on the bathroom floor, I felt as if I were lying in bed,” I said with a chuckle.