Oatmeal

Emily ended the hug first, carefully untangling Kylee from her.

"I love baby cuddles, but let's get you feed. Based on how far down that diaper of yours is dropping, I bet your stomach is empty!" Emily said.

Kylee's stomach gurgled as if in response.

"Yeah, I guess I'm hungry," Kylee said.

"Ah, ah, ah, baby talk only please," Emily gently chastised Kylee.

Kylee's cheeks red with embarrassment, but, after cuming while humping Emily's leg, this demand seemed trivial.

"Sowwry Ms. Emmy! Ky-ky dis hungry," Kylee lisped out.

"Much better! Why don't you crawl to the kitchen and sit in one of the chairs at the table while I make you a little breakfast," Emily said, straightening up and walking to the kitchen.

Kylee stopped and watched for a second as her babysitter walked away from her. She was mesmerized by Emily's firm, shapely ass. She felt a little drool roll out of her mouth just looking at Emily's butt.

**At least Michael has good taste in babysitters,** Kylee thought to herself, **I mean, would do much dirtier things than humping her leg like a dog if it meant I might get a chance to play with that ass.** Kylee felt a strong waive of embarrassment pulse through her as she acknowledged that thought, but let it dissipate when Emily turned over her shoulder with a seductively glare and addressed Kylee again.

"Are you coming Little Miss Poopy Pants, or what?"

Kylee dropped to her hands and knees, grimacing as she felt her shit slowly separate from her body like Velcro ripping as the weight of her now thoroughly destroyed diaper pulled itself away from her body. She crawled into the kitchen as Emily ordered and climbed up into a chair, settling back into her own mess yet again.

Meanwhile, Emily started going through cabinets looking for a breakfast food appropriate for a toddler.

"I am so glad your Daddy is at the store! Nothing here seems appropriate for a little toddler like you!" Emily narrated her search. "Oh wait, here we go!"

Kylee watched as Emily pulled out a couple small brown packets of something from a cabinet that Kylee knew held dried foods. Kylee watched as Emily found a plastic bowl (usually used for cereal or popcorn while watching movies) and tore open the packets dumping their contents inside. Emily then poured a little water into the bowl from the sink, mixed the contents of the bowl up, and placed it in the microwave.

"It's not perfect, but it will have to do for now. I should really text Michael and let him know to pick up some baby food," Emily muttered to herself as she started looking through the fridge. "Now, what will the baby have to drink? Oh, this will work!"

Emily pulled a half-empty gallon of milk out of the fridge.

"Now, cups, cups, cups! Probably too optimistic to think that Michael has bottles already. Maybe a cup with a lid? No..." Kylee watched as Emily talked to herself as she dug through Kylee's cabinets, looking for the perfect dishware to embarrass her with. The experience was surreal.

DING

The microwave going off tore Emily's focus away from the cup issue.

"Oh good! The baby's breakfast is ready!"

Emily scurried over to the microwave and pulled out the bowl, blowing on its steaming hot contents. She blew on it, then looked at the gallon of milk on the counter and shook her head. A small grin grew on her face as she looked at it.

"We'll just have to figure out the drink situation after you eat! Alright Ky-ky, are you ready for your num nums?" Emily asked rhetorically as she walked over to the kitchen table bowl in hand.

As Emily got closer, Kylee could smell it's contents. It actually smelt pretty good. Kyle's stomach audible growled as Emily set the bowl down and Kylee could see what was inside for the first time. It was oatmeal. Kylee smiled, relieved. She liked oatmeal. She could deal with oatmeal.

Kylee reached for the spoon in the bowl to start feeding herself, only for her hand to be slapped away.

"No, no! Babies don't use spoons themselves!" Emily said sternly. "You have two options: I can feed you; or you can use your hands."

Kylee groaned. **Of course there is a catch,** she thought to herself. But what would be worse? Being fed like a baby or getting her hands covered in sticky oatmeal?