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Chapter 4 The diaper crinkled beneath me as I shifted on the piano bench, the thick padding forcing my legs slightly apart. The vinyl seat was cold against my bare thighs, a contrast to the trapped heat below my waist. Were these things supposed to be this warm? I hadn’t even used it yet.  ‘Yet’? God, Thomas.  “Is something the matter?” Hope called from the kitchen. “No.” I started playing again. Every keystroke sent a ripple of tension through me—not because of the music, but because Hope was watching from the kitchenette, idly stirring her tea. The soft clink of her spoon tink-tink-tinking away, reminding me she was watching. Probably with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.  I hated that she was the reason I was wearing this. Hated how easily she’d made the decision for me, how sweetly condescending her voice had been. The bulk between my legs was a constant reminder that I’d just rolled over and taken it. The post-orgasm bliss had worn off, along with the happy brain fog it induced. The only reminder of that bit of fun had dried into a tacky smear inside my diaper. And yet, I was here. Playing “Be Thou My Vision” for her.  "You’re tense," she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. "Relax your shoulders. Let it flow." I winced at the word ‘flow.’ I’d been on my second cup of black tea when I noticed the tightness in my bladder. A dull ache that would only grow worse.  I exhaled sharply and forced my fingers to move. The warmth of the apartment pressed in. Hope kept it too warm. “I need a break. It’s kinda hot in here.” “Piano is hard work, hmm?” Hope said. “I’ll refresh your tea.”  “Nah, I’m good.”  “Ice water, then, since you’ve been working so hard.” She turned on the sink. The sound of rushing water made my stomach turn over.  She handed me a glass and watched expectantly. This was on purpose. Had to be, right? She wanted me to use the diaper. Was this a power thing? Hope needing to be needed? There was no way she knew I’d never actually had any accidents, right? She just thought she was being helpful--the sweet, maternal figure the church expected all women to be. “Thanks.” I sipped the water and set it down. Smack!  “Ouch!” I barked. She’d swatted my hand.  “Thomas. You know better. No drinks on the piano. You can put it on the coffee table. Use a coaster.”  I ground my teeth and did as she asked.  “Scoot over,” she said.   I slid down the piano bench to make room, and she sat down next to me, close enough her leg brushed against mine. The edge of her skirt flopped over, resting on my bare skin and tagging the edge of the diaper. My heart thump-thump-thumped in my chest. Goosebumps--actual, frigging goosebumps--ran up my arm, despite the heat.  She glanced down at my diaper. “Do you need a diaper change? Is that why you’re so distracted?”  “Not yet,” I croaked out, immediately regretting the concession that it was only a matter of time. Well, isn’t it?  “Hope, I really appreciate all the help, but I need to get home.”  “You’re twisting your wrists out to the side,” she said. “That’s slowing you down and will also lead to wrist strain as you start playing more often.” She wrapped her fingers around my wrist and straightened my hand. “Now play, and focus on maintaining that posture.”  I started the piece over from the beginning.  “That’s much better. Good job,” she cooed.  I found myself smiling. “Alright, I think you’re ready for something a bit trickier. Let’s move on to Come Thou Fount.” I looked up at the clock. “I should--”  “Here, I’ll start.” She began playing the piece, her delicate fingers dancing across the keys.  I took in a deep breath and prepared for the end of the song. I needed to leave. Now. Actually, I needed to leave thirty minutes ago. Or two cups of tea ago. Knock knock Hope stopped playing. “That must be the ladies.”  “The ladies?!”   “I host the Women’s Bible Study, remember?”  “Why didn’t you…” I shook my head. “I gotta go.”  “You might want to put some pants on first.” She chuckled.  Hope--pure as the driven snow Hope--was okay with people knowing I was here, in her apartment? “Should I sneak out a window or something?”  Hope raised her eyes. “Why would you do that?”  Knock knock!  “So, you know…I wouldn’t want anyone thinking…”  Hope laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve already told the ladies I’ve been teaching you piano again. But that’s very thoughtful of you. ‘Abstain from all appearance of evil,’ as it says in 1 Thessalonians 5:22.”  That hurt, but there was no time to dwell on it. I slid off the bench and raced into the bedroom, yanking on my pants. Or trying to. They could barely make it up over the fat, fluffy diaper. I finally buttoned them in place. The front bulged out, like I was trying to shoplift a melon.  Or like you’re wearing a diaper.  The soft murmur of voices filled the apartment as Hope’s friends settled in. I tugged my pants higher on my hips, my fingers lingering at the waistband as if I could somehow make the bulk beneath them less obvious. The diaper crinkled as I shifted, every tiny sound amplified in my head. Rip off the bandaid. Say hello and goodbye, and get out of here. I counted to ten and walked into the living room. A gaggle of church ladies--all of whom I’d known for years--turned in my direction. Amanda was among them. She was dressed more conservatively than the day we’d done shots in the storage room. “Hi, Thomas.”  I forced myself to lean casually against the wall. Couldn’t seem like I was in too much of a rush. “Hi, Amanda.” I sketched an awkward wave. “Hi, everybody.”  Polite ‘hellos’ greeted me in return.  I needed to pee, and the awareness of it only made it worse. If I waited too long, it wouldn’t be a choice anymore. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.  Hope caught my eye from across the room, her expression unreadable. She knew. Of course, she knew. And yet, she didn’t say anything, just returned to pouring tea. She was always pouring that goddammed tea. “I was just telling the ladies about how much progress you’ve made today.” “Uhhhh…” I felt my mouth swing open.  Hope subtly cocked an eyebrow. “With your piano practice?”  Relief hit me. “Oh. Yeah. You’re a great teacher. I really need to--”  “It’d be lovely if you could play something for us before you go,” Hope said.  I stopped halfway to the door. “Sure.”  “How about 'Come to the Water '?” Do you remember that one?” Is she screwing with me?  “I think so.” I crossed the room, not making eye contact with anyone, and sat down. My bulging diaper-crotch, obvious before, was now a mound. A mountain of fluff that looked ready to burst through the zipper like in that Alien movie at any moment. Worse, though, was the pressure in my bladder. That feeling that my bladder could just give up the fight and let loose. Would they know?  Just make it through the song, then you’re free. They don’t want you to stick around for the Bible Study anyway.  I started playing, focusing as much as I could on the music and ignoring the women’s gazes and the warm bulk encasing me, and the increasingly loud voice telling me to let go and use the diaper for its intended purpose. The last notes were supposed to be delicate, but my fingers rushed them, hammering the keys too hard. I needed this to be over. The women sat in their neat little semi-circle, hands folded over their Bibles, polite smiles barely disguising their boredom. Hope, cross-legged in the armchair, watched me with that infuriating blend of patience and certainty—like she knew I’d come around to her way of thinking eventually. Amanda sat on the couch, her knee a foot from mine when I’d first sat down, though she’d tucked her legs up now, bare ankles crossed. I’d avoided looking at her since I started playing, but now, as the last note hung in the air, I glanced up. Mistake. She was watching me, her lips parted just slightly, her brown eyes unreadable. Beneath the weight of her attention, beneath the warmth crawling up my neck, I realized I wasn’t going to make it. The pressure in my bladder, the dull ache, reached a tipping point. My body clenched around it, every muscle tensing as if I could force it back inside by sheer will. For a second, I thought I had. Then warmth spread, slow and damning, soaking the padding between my legs. I couldn’t move. If I shifted, someone would hear it—the awful, telltale crinkle, the shameful squish of wet padding. My hands curled into fists on my knees, and I focused on my breathing, the way my heartbeat pounded against my ribs. Hope cleared her throat. “That was beautiful, Thomas. Thank you for sharing.” There was a murmur of agreement from the others, though Amanda said nothing. I didn’t dare look at her again. Didn’t dare do anything but sit there, my skin crawling, my ears ringing with the imagined sound of their realization. Amanda tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “You okay?” I forced a nod. “Yeah. Just—tired.” She didn’t buy it. I could see it in the way her brows twitched together, the way her eyes softened at the edges. But she didn’t press, thank God.  I sat there, trapped, heat burning up my throat as the wetness cooled slightly against my skin. I needed to leave, needed to get up. I rose to wobbly legs, the weight of the soaked diaper hanging down between my thighs.  I left without saying goodbye.  *** I tossed the diapers in the back seat. Hope had flagged me down as I left. Given me the diapers, wrapped in a trash bag. Less obvious than just handing me them unwrapped, but not by much.  I slammed the car door harder than I meant to. The sound cracked through the evening air. It didn’t make me feel better. Nothing would. Not with the squelch of wet padding pressed against me. Not with the sour stickiness smeared across my thighs. A woman jogged past. Some kid coasted by on a skateboard. A guy in a polo shirt wrestled bags out of his trunk, his eyes flicking in my direction. I kept my head down, hands tight on the wheel. My face burned. Every single one of them knew. They could see it. They had to. The diaper had squished when I sat.  My chest tightened. I fired the ignition. The car rumbled awake beneath me. Just get home. Get out of this disgusting thing. Burn it, maybe. Toss the rest and be done with it. This had gone far enough. A knock rattled the window beside me. I jumped so hard I nearly peeled out into traffic. My stomach dropped. Amanda stood there, leaning toward the glass, eyes wide and worried. “Hey,” she mouthed. I cracked the window. “Hey.” “Can we talk for a second?” I wanted to say no. Not because I didn’t want her there—God, I did—but because the thought of her seeing me like this made me want to crawl out of my skin. I could still feel the warmth. The damp cling. The diaper squished under me, pushing up against my pants and wrapping my parts in its warm, clingy moisture.  “I was just about to head out,” I said, keeping my voice light. At least trying to. “Two minutes?” She smiled, a little sheepish. “I won’t keep you.” I hesitated. That smile cut straight through my resolve. I nodded. She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. She turned to face me. “Are you okay?” I swallowed hard. “Fine.” She gave me a look. “You seemed weird in there.” “Weird how?” “Just... you rushed out. Didn’t say bye. And it’s kind of weird, you hanging out with Hope again. Taking piano lessons?” She laughed. “Since when?” I forced a laugh. “What, me playing piano is the weird part?” “No. I mean, yeah, a little. But mostly... it’s Hope. I thought you hated her. Thought you hated all that stuff. The church. The sermons. The ‘surrender your will to God’ thing.” “I don’t hate her.” That came out way too fast. Her eyebrow went up. “You said she was a brainwashed cult leader last year. And just, like, a month ago you said--” “I was being dramatic,” I cut her off, shifting in my seat. The diaper shifted with me. “Mom’s been on my case. Wanted me to do something ‘constructive’ with my free time.” Amanda shrugged. “Okay. If you say so.” She let it go, just like that. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or disappointed. Maybe with a bit more of a push, she’d force me out of this hole I’d dug myself.  “Anyway,” she said, “I got a ticket. For Bespoke. Still down to go?” My chest lit up. “Hell yes. I was gonna grab mine tonight.” Her lips curled at the edges. “Cool. It’s gonna be fun.” She paused. Winced. Her nose wrinkling adorably. “Hey, um... do you think you could get vodka again?” I turned toward her, surprised. “I mean,” she added quickly, “only if it’s not a big deal. The other day was... fun. It made me feel relaxed. And you were really...” She looked down, then back at me. “You were fun.” My heart thump-thump-thumped. “I’ve still got the bottle. Or I could get something even better.” She grinned. “Awesome.” Then, without warning, she leaned in and hugged me. Her arms slid around my shoulders, pulling me in. Her chest pressed against mine, soft and warm through the fabric of her blouse. Her cheek grazed mine—a whisper of skin, a hint of perfume. Vanilla, maybe. Her fingers didn’t just rest at my back. They lingered. Pressed. Held. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. The diaper squished beneath me again, but even that humiliation got swallowed up in the feel of her against me. Then she pulled back. “See you soon.” The door clicked softly behind her as she stepped out. The quiet that followed felt too loud. I didn’t start the car. Just sat there, staring through the windshield. What the hell was I doing? The squish. The smell. The diaper. Still warm. Still wet. Amanda had hugged me. Not a grandma-at-Thanksgiving hug, either. She’d squeezed tight. Let it linger. Hugged me while I was wearing this... thing. If she’d leaned down a little further, she might’ve noticed. What would it be like to wear this to the concert? People pressed close. Lights flashing. Bodies bumping. Someone’s hand brushing against the front of my pants. Amanda’s. She’d laugh. “Oh my God,” she’d whisper. “Are you wearing a diaper?” I shuddered and snapped out of it. “I don’t have to wear this shit,” I muttered. “I’m not even actually incontinent.” Hope thought I was, though. Or did she? She’d been composed. Helpful. Maybe too composed and helpful. Like she was waiting for me to slip up. And what was with all the tea? She kept pushing it. Maybe she knew I was lying. Maybe this whole thing was her twisted way of making a point. Or worse—maybe she just liked having this kind of power over me.  A power you’ve given her, dumbass. My brain jumped to the nursery. Her fingers smoothing the tapes. Her breath on my ear. The rustle of her dress. My body reacting before I even wanted it to. I hated how fast I got hard just thinking about it. My phone dinged. A text. From Hope, of course.  I had so much fun today. You were so brave. I’m proud of you for wearing your protection. I’ll help with any changes on Sunday—and anytime you need it. Heat flared in my chest. Anger. Embarrassment. I started typing. It was a lie. I don’t need diapers. Mind your own business. I stared at the words. My thumb hovered over send. Then I deleted it. I didn’t need them. I didn’t. But it had felt... good. Weird good. That was the part I didn’t want to admit. Maybe that’s the lie. I typed instead: Thanks for the lesson. And for your help with everything. A second later, she sent back a heart emoji. I stared at it. My thumb brushed the screen. I didn’t type anything else.

I've taken 2 solo vacations in the past 6-1/2 years.  Always went 24/7 the whole time, no exceptions (wetting only).  Trest, Betterdry, Abena L4 and Beyond XP5000 for night time use, always with plastic pants over them for extra security.  I'm not AB so I never use AB printed diapers anyway, but that is up to you.  If you are responsible as everyone should be, no one but yourself should ever see your diaper, and for disposal I would hope they would be bagged up and tossed in a manner so as no one would see one laying in a trash can.

Years ago I needed a new car.  My family always favored Oldmobiels.  I looked at the Ninty-Eights but they were wat too big.  Then I checked out the Eighty-Eights.  Still too big.  I finally settled on an Olds Urinate.  I just needed something to piss around with.

I always ravel diapered, usually Bambino Bellisimo

My Daddy and my wife will typically pack diapers for me for evenings whenever we travel. My Daddy doesn't like plain diapers so we don't have any, just cute printed ones.