You - the short, constantly underestimated adult - fall into the most humiliating, damning self-fulfilling prophecy of your entire life.
Let’s just say I’m not the tallest person in the world. Obviously, I never decided to be short, and I’d be taller if I could, but for whatever reason, I’m just not.
But worse than that, is that everyone around me has seemed to have internalized it. I’m ‘the cute one’, the one who doesn’t mind sitting at the childrens table, the assumed flower girl. My friends, my family, my coworkers… Each of them make me feel like I'm the baby of the group, despite being slap bang in the middle, in terms of age, at my respectable twenty seven and four months. I am ‘the silly, childish girl’, no matter what I do or say. I could recite Shakespeare’s entire works while doing a handstand and they’d still call me a baby... Actually, that was a bad example.
I wouldn’t mind too much, but that night… that one fucking night… it became the night that this infantile label actually became far more truthful than I’d ever wanted it to be. I fell into a trap so innocent in origin it actually hurt with irony… It began, as all horrible things do, with a completely benign morning.
Shopping! My niece is three, and my sister asked me to look after her for the weekend, so I thought I’d go out and treat her with something. After a helpful WhatsApp exchange with said sister, I even managed to set up her high chair and playpen in my living room all on my own.
Looking after her was actually very easy, all things considered. The over-the-top adorable baby girl, Angelica, was an absolute delight to hang out with, not giving me any trouble at all. My sister picked her up early, so I called over a few friends to hook up at a local cafe (which was great), and Katie, my very close friend, came home with me.
“I didn’t know you were expecting a baby.” she joked as she followed me into my living room, the high chair still perched in the corner, with various boxes of toys and baby items scattered around it. We decided to leave it here until they moved, which was only a month away now. I tried to move it into the corner of the room, but it was taller than I was.
I giggled; “It’s my sisters, I was looking after Angelica.”
“How was she?”
“Oh my God, an absolute angel. You should have seen her. I took some pictures at lunch.” Katie clapped excitedly, running over, easily shifting the huge plastic chair into the back corner of the room. I smiled thankfully up at her, ignoring the sudden pang of jealousy at just how effortless that had been for her, gulping down the lurking insecurity at her helping without me even asking for it. Instead, I simply pulled up the Gallery on my phone. “Oh my fucking God.”
“I know, right!?”
…
“Hey, I bet you could fit in here.” Katie said suddenly - giggling like satan, coffee in hand - a huge smile adorned across her face.
“You’re hilarious.” I replied dryly. Frowning, I picked up one of the toys and threw it at her.
“Do you want a refill?” I asked as she ducked, making her giggle and pick up something. “Do you want a bottle?” she replied, holding up the baby’s pink cup and waving it at me.
I threw another toy at her, and we both laughed. “I wouldn’t mind one, actually.” My smile got a little bigger. As I entered the kitchen, listening to Katie cooing over some coloring book Angelica had filled out, my mind played over what she said: I couldn’t be that small, could I? To fit in a baby's high chair?!
I flicked on the kettle, getting out two cups and staring out the window, my feet perched on the small stool I had to buy for myself. The view wasn’t great, but my small private garden looked gorgeous, if I do say so myself. I’m a keen gardener, and I like looking out over my toil every afternoon.
“What’s wrong?” asked Katie, noticing my absent look as she walked in.
“Oh, nothing… I was just thinking about what you said. I’m not as small as Angelica, am I?” I asked flatly.
“Of course you’re not!” said Katie, letting out an astonished laugh, walking up to me and rubbing my back reassuringly.
“It’s a big high chair; I bet I could fit in it if I tried hard enough. I was joking anyway.” She smiled, playing with one of the cups as we waited for the kettle.
“Ok, yeah you're right, it doesn’t matter anyway.” Katie gave me a quick squeeze, before reaching past me to grab the water, pouring out our coffee as I pulled up a chair…
...
I started the morning with the usual slow slumber, like a gentle giant – a bad metaphor actually - waking up from a long hibernation... At least it felt like that. I tried to walk in a straight line, the dull fogginess of my brain fuzz slowly draining out from my eyes as my head clanked into gear, and as I reached the bathroom I wondered what time I’d made it to bed. One, maybe two am?
I did the morning ritual, freshening up as I tried to plan my day. I had nothing work wise, but I think Katie was coming over at some point for lunch. Realizing that I’d pretty much answered my question of when she was getting here, I headed downstairs.
…
I sat down in my lounge, dragging the highchair out of the way of the TV with my foot and switching on the early morning news, wondering how the people on there could even get up at such a horrible hour. I looked back at the high chair, realizing that I did over-react last night: That thing is huge. Katie was absolutely right; I bet all of us could fit if we tried hard enough. I giggled at the thought, imagining my legs swinging happily back and forth like Angelica’s did, spooning some of my breakfast into my mouth...
I then washed up all the stuff from yesterday, including the various baby items. As I rinsed out the bottle Katie teased me with, I eventually caved to the niggling question I had about what it would be like to drink from it. You know, I wasn't - like - fascinated… I was just curious… You would be too, right?
And so, a short while later, it felt perfectly normal to press my lips around the nib, sucking gently on some juice that I’d half filled it with.
I had to tip my head all the way back like a baby, making me chuckle as my teeth held onto the thin plastic. It felt, in a word, strange… I couldn’t feel any holes in the teat, but it just got wet when I sucked it… Eugh, no pun intended. I still felt a bit peckish, so I poured myself another bowl of oatmeal, heading back into the lounge with the bottle still in my mouth.
The white plastic surface of the high chair looked comically inviting, and I shrugged. Why not? Why can’t I just let myself be childish for a moment. I’m so uptight about being short, I don’t let myself have enough silly fun. I looked at the window. The curtains were closed. It's early morning. Only tired TV presenters would be wandering past my humble home at this hour. I smiled at my own little joke, before pulling up the high chair, sliding it in front of the television.
…
I spent a moment admiring the colorful bit of furniture, giggling at the small baby prints imprinted down the sides. I folded down the smooth plastic tray, placing my breakfast down, and clambered up onto the arm rest of my nearby sofa.
The ground was quite far away from up here, and so I gently leant over, head practically on the ceiling, guiding a foot onto the soft, pink seat. Adjusting my body slightly, I crouched down onto it, placing my other foot beside the first. I looked remarkably similar to the Assassin's Creed character when he stands atop large buildings, if Ezio was to dress like a twenty something petite girl in an entirely feminine nightie. I giggled, wondering if I should use the baby spoon as my hidden blade…
A few gaming references later, I realized that I probably should move. My backside was pressing against the backrest of the high chair, and my thighs began to ache in this squatting position. I extended both feet, and just… sort of fell into it?
It hurt slightly, and I blushed as a particular thump echoed from my backside, but I didn’t mind the strange seat. I’d just overestimated how big the drop was before I could use my extended hands to cushion myself. My legs were swinging slightly in the rather tight leg gaps in the chair too. Hah, it is too small. As a result, my lower body was firmly under the eating tray, and I actually felt surprisingly stable up here.
I didn’t even notice that I picked up a baby spoon: It seemed natural, considering. I began thinking about what to do today as I was eating, looking absentmindedly at the TV screen, watching smartly dressed people talk about apparently-important daily political drama. Fuck the Tories. The remote was unfortunately sitting on the dining table. An oversight.
Maybe I could go into town for a bit, later?
Suddenly I felt a drop of food land on my bust. I looked down and laughed: How ironic! I’m in a high chair for five minutes, and now I can’t eat without spilling everything. Now I really am acting like a baby. I noticed a bib lying next to the diapers, thankfully closer than the remote, and I quickly snatched it up.
“If you can’t put your food in your mouth young missy, then you’re going to have to wear a bib!” I laughed again, kicking my legs around playfully as I tied the soft ribbon behind my neck, fumbling with the knot for a moment.
I was quiet for a few minutes, watching the news while eating oatmeal. However, as the program finished and my food ran out, I began to get a bit bored. I played with one of the teddy bears for a minute, but I realized that ‘Cuddles the Bear’ was definitely targeted at a younger audience: Its furry appendages entertained me for only a short while; I just didn’t have the imagination anymore. I sighed to myself, taking a quick look around the room for inspiration.
I managed to eye two hair bobbles sitting to one side. Great! My hair can look the part, too. I giggled, shaking my head around for a bit, feeling the bangs against my face, but even THAT became boring after a while. I know!
I even tried flicking the leftover food into my mouth like I’ve seen babies do (admittedly they do it more by accident than me) and made a bit of a mess on my face. I might have got a bit in my hair as well, but never mind: I’m going to shower soon anyway. I lifted my feet onto one of the hard plastic bars so that I could push myself out of the highchair; only, the opening was a little too high up.
My knees hit the bottom of the tray before my feet reached the bar. For the first time in my life, my legs were too long. Oh well, I thought, attempting instead to lift myself out. I put my hands either side of me, gently rising up, my arms extending until they were fully stretched. Again, it was a bit more difficult than I first guessed, and my knees still were not even out. I can’t pull up enough to get my legs out… My arms just aren’t long enough.
“Hah. Okay. Lol. I’m not stuck yet. This is just… tricky.”
I began to get a little panicky. I tried again, kicking my feet around a bit in desperation. I leaned forwards, backwards, left, right, every conceivable direction. I just couldn’t get out. I began rocking myself vigorously, hoping to tip the highchair and land on the couch.
Unfortunately, the damned design was far too stable for that, even with my weight. I just couldn’t budge. When I did manage to lift two of the legs off the floor for a slight moment, I panicked because it was the wrong two legs. I would end up falling the other way and bash into the cupboard. I tried lifting myself out again, but it was so hard. What the hell am I supposed to do now?!
I looked around me, realizing that the dangerously solid cupboard was actually quite close to me. I planted my foot onto it, and pushed upwards again. Unfortunately, I just slipped on the smooth surface and didn’t go anywhere. I reached for my phone, which was on the sofa, but it too was just out of reach. Literally like five fucking centimeters.
You’d think I’d be used to the fact that a lot of things are out of my reach at this age and height, but it made me extremely frustrated. I felt like a complete fucking baby, who wasn’t allowed to play with any adult things. I slumped back, kicking my legs about and huffing.
Eventually I gave up, finally realizing that Katie was going to pop round at some point this morning, and she’d let herself in. She’ll understand my situation, despite how humiliating it is, and how dumb I am for putting myself into this stupid situation. I put my elbow on the tray, and laid my head on my palm, waiting. At least the TV’s on…
“And coming up this morning, CBEEBies!” Oh God no!…
…
I stared at the wall, unable to turn down the racket that is children’s television, and resigned myself to the fact that there was at least another two and a half hours of this. I was blocking it out of my mind, but I knew the inevitable was coming: I slowly began to feel the need to pee.
Just wait it out.
It started out as a small urge, nothing more than an annoyance. But every minute I waited it got worse, and with nothing to take my mind off it, I finally realized that I would be forced to do something about it. I had been staring at the stack of Angelica's diapers for about twenty-five minutes, knowing full well what I had to do. I picked up three of the folded pads, two pull ups and a slightly thicker diaper, and placed them on the counter as if to examine them. I sat there, weighing up the options, face like a poker player. It sort of looked like I was playing poker, my three ‘cards’ on the table… tray… and I was working out the risk. I realized, with a sigh, that I needed to go ‘all in’.
I shifted my body up enough to slip my panties down my thighs, but my hands couldn’t reach under any further to pull them off. Instead, I aggressively kicked my feet around until they slipped down to my ankles. From there, I lifted my feet up to the tray so that they were poking out in front of me, and I was just about able to flick them off my toes. They disappeared underneath me as they fell to the floor, gone until I managed to get out.
That realization hit me harder than I expected it to. Being stuck in a high chair is one thing, but to lose my panties was another thing entirely. I felt surprisingly… vulnerable? It didn’t help that my next course of action would be to get a kids pull up wrapped around me, either, and I stared at it for a moment with disdain, until a sudden jolt from my bladder hurried me up.
I unfolded the new, stiff pull up on the tray, prying the top half from the bottom from where it had been pressed together in manufacturing, reminding me that these are definitely not panties, despite how much the design on the front tried to convince me they were. If anything, the panty drawn onto the pull up just made the whole thing more embarrassing.
As before, I stretched my legs up as high as I could, clumsily banging my knees against the bottom of the tray. With one hand gripping the armrest, I stretched the other in an attempt to hook the pull up around my bare toe.
After a brief stretch of annoyed grunts, I managed to do it, finally, and thankfully I was able to thread my other foot in without hassle. I slid it as far up as I could from this side of the tray, before leaning back and slipping my hand back underneath. The long, stretchy waistbands hugged my knees tightly, but when I stretched my fingers out to reach it, I couldn’t grab the waist band to pull the damn thing on.
With a frustrated moan, I realized that I’d have to use the diaper that even Angelica doesn’t need any more, just because I could tape it straight on. I felt a sudden flood of tears beginning to form around my eyes, and I blinked profusely until my stupid face stopped being stupid. This is no time for melodrama.
I kicked my legs like I did with the panties, expecting to feel the pull ups slip off my knees, but the elasticity of the stupid thing made it almost stick to my skin. Great, I’m going to have pull ups half on when Katie finds me, as well as this bloody diaper. It stopped me from being able to move my legs as freely, too, which only made me feel worse.
I unfolded the diaper quietly, my breathing short and fluttery, wondering how bad my face must look. I’m usually as white as a doll, but I knew my entire face would be bright red right now, and for the first time in my life, I slipped a diaper underneath my bum and desperately tried to get the tapes on.
…
I stared back at the TV again, deciding that the wall was more boring than cartoons. I stared at the puppet for all of five seconds before I changed my mind. I looked over at the hallway door, ears pricked for any sign of Katie. The tight diaper dug into my thighs, and the shape of the padding put all the pressure on my groin, which was beginning to ache. I was sweating quite badly, and my entire body felt clammy. My knees were still being hugged by the juvenile training panties, mocking my lack of control every time I shifted my butt. I’d managed to wipe off some of the oatmeal that I’d stupidly flung into my hair, but I knew I was still caked in it. At the back of my mind, I was wondering when I’d get the courage to let go.
…
About five minutes later, I found out… I’d been shuffling slightly, swinging my legs about as I stared at the clock, wondering and waiting. Then, without realizing, my hand pressed itself against the padding on my crotch. I let out a sigh of frustration as my desperation reached the point of no return, and with a painful twinge, I convinced myself to just get it over with. I gave up, gave in, and let go in an instant! Only a heartbeat later, my internals got the message to completely ignore my twenty years of potty training and that feeling of beginning to pee hit me. I felt my face burn as I stared at the ceiling, consumed by shame as a sudden trickle of warmth escaped me, turning into a flood as every bit of resistance fell away.
I squeaked, gripping both hand rails as I blushed profusely, clenching up again to stop it. Feeling the wetness spread changed my mind in an instant and I decided then and there that I would not piss myself. I cupped my crotch, staring down at the pink wetness indicator, feeling a heat radiating from the plastic and spreading up my bum. The damn thing was soaked already! I’d already done it… Even if I manage to hold the rest in until I get out, I’ve still had a big accident into a diaper, acting and probably looking like a complete baby. For God’s sake my hair is in pigtails! My face is covered in oatmeal! I’m still wearing this fucking bib!
Pure humiliation filled every part of me, and with it brought the idea that I need the diaper. Yesterday, I was an adult. Tomorrow, I could be an adult. But right now, right this moment, I am a baby who has accidents. Realizing this, I felt as if I’d suddenly un-potty trained myself, and automatically I let go again. I felt a stream of warmth around my crotch, expanding as relief replaced the cramp. I was helplessly letting a constant trickle enter the diapers. That grew and grew until I was completely unable to stop myself! Suddenly, the wet tickle began to spread to my thighs, and as my finger began to get a little damp I realized that I’d leaked. I pulled my hand away sharply, sending another spurt out of the leg hole and onto the hard seat.
I leaked… My accident leaked.
…
I was sitting on a warm sponge, close to tears. The diaper had expanded so much it made my accident obvious, and the faded wetness indicated behind a huge mute-yellow stain only confirmed that. The smell… the faintest whiff of pee… burned into my nostrils about the fact of what I’d done, too. Ewwww!
And then I began to hear dripping… from the leak… onto my carpet… Fuck.
…
I quickly realized I had nowhere to put the diaper, and its current location around me would probably be the best until I’d gotten out. I tried to pull the hem of my nighty over it all, but it only made it damp and the diaper was just too thick. I tried not to think about it, but as time went on not only did it not escape my mind, but it got cold… and uncomfortable. What else could I do!?
...
As I shifted again, a long half an hour later, I accidentally put my hand in some splattered oatmeal. Nothing had changed. Still wearing pigtails… Still wearing a bib… Still covered from hair to neck in oatmeal, with cartoons on television telling me how to prevent the accident that I can still feel between my legs. The humiliating shame stuck to my brain like a disease, making my heart pound constantly as my blush did not leave. I felt like I’d just run a marathon.
Frustrated, I slammed my foot into the cupboard, my other foot following it because of the pull up, which I’d tried to rip by spreading my legs to no avail. My shin seemed to catch fire with pain as it caught the other side of the tray. “Oww oww owwwwww!” I suddenly felt overcome, the emotion and pain making me fall into floods of tears. I buried my face in my hands, sobbing like a baby.
As the clock chimed for nine am, the other bodily function that I was literally crying to avoid was getting more and more ominous. I had no idea how long Katie would be, and I knew that I would definitely need the loo again soon. The feeling hit me as I watched the news repeat, my body symbolizing that it wanted to get rid of something before the end of the hour. Something far more gross than pee… I was never good at holding anything in…
…
I think I’d cried myself dry… and, apparently, with it, I’d cried out my hope. There was no way I could avoid it now, the feelings inside me were all too clear about that. Even if Katie arrived this very second, getting out of the high chair would cause me to completely shame myself, to the point where I’d rather pretend I was role playing as a god-damned baby because she’d accept that story more than mine. I looked up at the roof, the very same roof that I tried to focus on when I wet myself, and ever so slowly I began relaxing. I tried humming to some popular tune, but that turned into bigger tears as the pressure increased, and my hands searched around, trying to find anything to keep me from thinking about what I was about to do.
I felt myself lean forward, my hands once again firmly holding on to the hand bars. I pressed my chest against the tray as I let go. It’s impossible to imagine, but if you’ve ever worried that you might actually mess yourself in a place that is not directly over a toilet, you’ll begin to know how I feel. Oh God!
I’d like to say it was over quickly, but it wasn’t. Fresh tears streamed down my face as I tried to comprehend exactly what I was doing. It didn’t happen instantly, and there came a point where I realized I’d gone too far to go back. The diaper pulled more tightly around my hips as it expanded. It was a surreal sensation, wholly unnatural, and utterly shameful.
If it was anyone else, they would have found the strength to hold it.
But oh no, not me, I just go and mess myself as soon as the challenge arises. I felt terrible that I didn’t fight it. I must be a baby. The oatmeal had gone straight through me, and as I slumped back into my seat, its texture didn’t feel that much different. I held my legs as wide as I could given the pull up bondage, my bum constantly clenched.
At least the smell, while obvious, seemed to fade… not that it mattered. It’s like looking away from a vase you knocked over. You still know what you did. My whole body began to shake violently as adrenaline flooded through my veins. It didn’t help my situation at all, and I began to sob uncontrollably again, letting everything bottled up inside me spill out. I kicked about as hard as I could, slamming my feet into toys, bottles, diapers, changing mats. I kicked the sofa, and it moved.
I actually moved the sofa with my foot! It felt like a eureka moment. A light bulb must be floating above my head as I grasped hold of the sofa’s armrest with my feet, and as I was pulling it with everything I had - totally aware at this point that I was worsening the mess all over my bum – I finally felt like I might have an escape.
I pulled, wiggled, bounced a few times, spreading the ickyness all around my bum but finally, I managed to get the sofa into a position which I could use. I planted both feet on it, and pushed upwards.
Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, I felt my back slip up over the back of the high chair as I managed to lift up enough to get my knees out of the leg holes. The pull up suddenly came into view, and I quickly pulled it up to my thighs so I could move my legs. After that, I managed to pull one foot out and onto the actual seat. I put my weight onto it, the back of my head crashing against the ceiling.
The sudden pain shot through me like a migraine, and my foot slipped on the pee, sending me crashing back down into the seat with a loud, wet thump. As a new pool of pee splashed its way over the high chair, my head sank back into my hands and I sobbed again.
It’s fucking hopeless.
…
I wallowed in my humiliation for four entire episodes of Peppa Pig, arms folded in defiance against the self. I refused to move, convincing myself that I’d just slip and fail again. This entire situation became a sort of self punishment, for being such a baby. I deliberately squirmed in my seat, throwing a tantrum, throwing my oatmeal bowl onto the floor.
But finally - eventually - I overcame that, and snapped out of it. She can’t find you like this.
…
I was far more careful the second time. I slowly inched my way out, making sure to get a firm foothold on the damp seat before putting my weight on it, crouching forward to dunk under the low ceiling.
Finally, I got my legs free, and the sudden excitement nearly made me falter again. My legs felt desperately weak, but they held. I stepped over the seat, onto the sofa armrest, and gingerly clambered down from the chair.
Success. Relief. I’ve done it. I looked up at the dirty highchair with a new, terrified respect. It had utterly defeated me. Cold shivers rippled through my entire body, almost a strange kind of arousal. Fear is similar, I guess.
Dark spots covered the floor beneath me, but I snatched up my long abandoned panties and stiffly walked to the hall, unable to keep my bum from wiggling heavily as I climbed the stairs. The pull ups still clung to my thighs. Despite everything, I felt liberated. I felt like I’d grabbed hold of a little piece of adulthood again. I had won.
That is, until I entered the bathroom, and the reality of my appearance sent my ego crashing down. The full length mirror in front of me reflected the reality of my condition: I was right before; my face a wreck. And my diaper… there isn’t just a wet stain on it… I didn’t even notice that I dropped my panties in shock, noticing instead that the pull up was still sitting around my thighs, making me look like a little girl who was just caught trying to cover up a huge accident.
I waddled into the bathroom and gently shut the door. That image will be burned into me forever. I stepped delicately out of the pull up and dropped it to the cold tiled floor automatically, focussed instead on the messy minefield taped to me. The smell in the room only got worse when I slipped out of the diaper. I accidentally caught sight of the inside, and the evidence inside gave me pause for a full five seconds. I hated going to the bathroom, but this is infinitely grosser.
I shook my head, body shaking, binning the diaper in the trash can beside the toilet and stepped into the shower… my new home for the next hour.
Sometime later, as I went over my thighs with the soap for the fifth time, I heard a loud knocking on the door. Oh, God, Katie!
I dived out of the shower and into the warm towel, scrubbing myself down as fast as I could as I searched for my panties. Spotting only the pull up, I instinctively slipped into it, cringing slightly at the small yellow stain that had managed to get through the leak. I decided that I’d change in a minute, and flung open the bathroom door to the hallway. I shouted “One moment!” down the stairs, running into my room to pull on some jeans and a top. I realized - as I was stuffing my leg into the hole - that I should have grabbed some panties in here, but I’m already keeping her waiting. As I ran back down the hall, I suddenly spotted the panties just behind the bathroom door frame, where I’d dropped them in shock.
I blushed bright red, throwing them into my room as I rushed downstairs. I pulled Katie into a huge hug as she greeted me.
“Hey!” she said worryingly, “…what’s wrong babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I’ll tell you later! Listen, would you mind doing this tomorrow?” Katie looked a little taken aback by that. I never usually cancel on her.
“Umm, sure?” She replied slowly.
“Sorry, it’s just…” What could I say? “I can’t explain right now. Some other time.”
“Babe, you’re clearly not okay. Let me buy you a coffee.” She said slowly.
“Now?” I asked. I’m still wearing the pull up.
“Yeah. Why? Are you late for something?”
“No…” She smiled, only then pulling away from the hug.
“Come on, put your shoes on, it’s on me. You look like you need it.” I gently took a step back, thinking about it, but her smile convinced me to step into my sandals. I couldn’t tell if it was exhaustion or something else, but a moment later – with my bag over my shoulder - I shut the door on my panties and walked down my driveway with Katie…
“Wanna tell me what’s wrong yet?” asked Katie, a good hour after we entered the cafe, sitting opposite me in the back in our little alcove. We’d spent the time talking about other things, clearly in an effort to take my mind off of the whole incident. I requested she did, and she obliged me without question. In fact, I’d completely forgotten about my baby underwear by the time Katie finished her hilarious recount of her date last night. I sighed, gently caving in to her curiosity. I quietly explained the events of my morning, feeling the same adrenaline flood through me as I shamefully admitted what I’d done. Apart from the occasional surprised laugh, she took it well, and in a strange way it was exciting to be cooed over.
“So you literally just cleaned yourself up when I arrived?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I replied quietly. “I was in the shower for about an hour and a half.”
“Gosh! I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to look at a diaper, again after that.”
“Yup!” I replied, nursing my tea in my hands.
“It must be nice to be wearing panties again.” She added, making me conscious of how my underwear felt. The thickness that I’d subconsciously gotten used to suddenly felt thicker than ever, and I nearly dropped my coffee when I re-realized the fact that I’m wearing pull ups.
“Y-yeah.” I laughed, my entire face burning, but Katie frowned, clearly noticing something wasn’t right.
“You’re wearing panties, right?” I noticed a girl sitting near us looking at me funny, and for a moment I considered telling her the truth. Why would I think that?
“Yeah, obviously! Sorry, I just got distracted.” She didn’t look entirely convinced, and the idea of her knowing played over in my mind like a… A fantasy!? “I just need to go to the bathroom for a second.” I jumped up from my chair, darting over to the bathroom with my hands pulling my shirt down over my jeans in an attempt to hide the waistline. In hindsight, it had the opposite effect…
The moment I entered the cubicle, I pulled down my jeans, and with a shaking hand I slipped open the front of the pull up. Apart from the splatter of yellow from earlier, there was another wetness that was entirely recent.
I’m... aroused?