Daddy's Home - Chapter 12
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“Hmmmmm,” Daddy said, really drawing out the thought. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

He looked over at his two shopping companions, who were both holding very still and not saying very much. 

“I know you prefer the mixed fruit and the peaches,” Daddy continued, holding up one option of baby food. “But the strained spinach is so much healthier. I’ll just let you decide - if you want the fruit, just say so, otherwise we’ll get the vegetables.” 

It was a cruel trick. The Baby couldn’t respond, not with a gag in his mouth, hidden only by a disposable facemask. The Maid couldn’t, either, for that matter - and both of them were desperately hoping that the elastic on the facemask wouldn’t fail or slip off their face, since if it did, their matching gags would be exposed, along with the dried cum Daddy has left on their lips and cheeks before coming to the store. 

“Nothing to say?” Daddy asked. “Vegetables it is.”

He put the baby food in their cart, and kept rolling along through the store as though nothing were wrong. 

The Maid and the Baby both struggled to follow, knees trembling, waddling ever so slightly. The quart of water and epsom salts that they’d been filled with before coming inside was heavy, and bursting to get out the same way it’d come in.

If they could have protested about the enemas, they would have, but by that point they’d both been gagged. 

If they could have walked slower they would have, but the collars around their necks were tight, and led by a thin, almost gossamer bit of thread that Daddy held the other end of. It’d break easily, if either of them slowed down and fell behind, but Daddy has assured them both that if either leash snapped, they’d both regret it. 

Neither of them wanted to learn what that meant. 

“What’s wrong?” Daddy asked, as they moved at a slightly-too-fast pace through the freezer section. “Are you worried about the pup? Don’t be. I left the AC on in the car, and he’s listening to his favorite tunes. He’ll be alright.” 

That wasn’t what they were both whimpering and blushing about, of course. The Baby was more worried that people would recognize his shortalls and blue T-shirt - well, his blue onesie, though nobody could see the snaps that were over his thick diaper - as the obviously juvenile clothes that they were, and the Maid was worried about the same, except that her outfit was more in the style of a 60s pinup girl, complete with stockings and heels that made it especially impractical to waddle around. 

“Oh, is it the enemas? Don’t worry, your plastic pants will make sure you don’t leak,” Daddy said, loud enough that his voice carried. 

Both of them blushed, in case someone nearby heard. Only the Baby looked around, though.

“Give it a rest,” Daddy said, smirking. “Stop worrying about who sees. Babies don’t care if anyone sees what they’re wearing, or smells what they did to their diapers - And that should include you.” 

The shopping cart was mostly full. Despite all the teasing, Daddy had moved fast through the store, mostly being efficient and going through a planned route. They’d only been there for about thirty minutes. 

For most people, that wouldn’t be long at all. For the Baby and the Maid, holding their enemas in, it was an eternity. They were holding on, though - and if checkout lines were fast, they might even be able to get to the car before losing control. 

“Let’s go check out,” Daddy said. “I don’t think the lines are very long.” 

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. They were going to make it, and-

“Oh, but first. Both of you need to stop holding it in the next five seconds,” Daddy added. “Otherwise, you’ll get a spanking right here in the aisle.” 

They both turned bright pink, but neither disobeyed, giving up the struggle and letting the enema flood into the backs of their diapers. 

Daddy was in control the whole time. Any possibility that they might make it out of the store without humiliating themselves was just an illusion. 

It was, always, up to Daddy.