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Padded Truths Chapter 1 Title: Secrets in the Night Sons of the Night Corey and Sam were close enough in age to be friends, but different enough to never quite understand each other. Sam, 19, was the golden boy—enrolled in a prestigious university, majoring in something impressive, destined for success. Parties weren't his thing. He'd find a way to avoid them, always coming up with some excuse. It wasn't that he was socially inept—he just had no interest in the noise, the mess, the drunken small talk. Corey, 21, went to a state school, though he was far from aimless. His major was just as rigorous, and his real passion—songwriting, guitar—was something he pursued with quiet devotion. He partied hard, though. He'd come home at ungodly hours, stumbling through the door, reeking of beer, his mother, Hannah, waiting for him with a tired but knowing smile. She didn’t mind. Maybe it was her way of holding on to youth, staying up to drink a glass of wine with him, listening to his slurred ramblings about life, music, and whatever he could still form words for. Sam always stayed in his room during those late-night moments, pretending not to hear their muffled laughter from downstairs. He’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts he never dared say aloud. He had a secret. A ridiculous, humiliating, irrational secret. Ever since he was young, Sam had an inexplicable longing to wear diapers. He had no idea why—just that he’d always noticed them. The sight of babies wearing them had stirred something inside him. A quiet jealousy. A longing for that simplicity, that freedom. He even remembered, years ago, asking his mother if he could wear them again. She had laughed and told him, “No, sweetheart, those are for babies.” He prayed she had forgotten. But Sam never had. Even at 19, the thought crept in more often than he liked to admit. Temptation in the Aisle Sam stood in the brightly lit supermarket, staring at the shelves. The baby aisle. A place no grown man had any reason to linger. His fingers twitched as he took a half-step closer, eyes locking onto a pack of Goodnites. He had seen them before. Passed by them in the store, heart hammering, gaze lingering a little too long before walking away like nothing happened. But tonight, he hesitated. His breath came slow and measured as he reached out, fingertips grazing the plastic packaging. He knew the designs—blue, stars and moons, made to look just enough like real underwear to be acceptable. But it wasn’t what he really wanted. Sam had always been drawn to Pampers. Ever since he was young, that brand had been the diaper in his mind—the gold standard, the ultimate dream. The ones he’d see babies in, the ones that looked soft, thick, real. He wasn’t sure why, but everything about them fascinated him—the way they crinkled, the way they hugged the babies’ legs snugly, the scent, the little wetness indicators. Compared to those, Goodnites felt like a compromise. A half-measure. But Pampers? They were undeniable. Undeniably diapers. And that was exactly why he could never bring himself to buy them. Even standing here, his heart pounding in his chest, he knew there was no way. Goodnites were one thing—technically for older kids, still somewhat justifiable. But Pampers? No excuse. No way to explain it. Still, he wanted them. The thought made his stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to longing. Then— A voice. A mother and her child rounded the corner. Sam’s heart lurched, and he yanked his hand away like he'd been burned. His face heated, and without a second glance, he turned on his heel and walked off, pretending he had never stopped in the first place. Corey’s Mornings Corey’s nights were wild, but his mornings carried a quieter shame. He always woke up to the same thing—his sheets damp, his skin clammy, the smell unmistakable. He swore it off every time. I won’t drink that much again. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night. I’ll be better. But it kept happening. Their mother had a habit of waking them both up every morning—pulling open the curtains, ruffling their hair, saying something motherly. And each time it happened, she saw. She never shamed him. Never made him feel like a child. She just sighed, the kind of sigh that said she wished she could take the embarrassment away for him, and helped him strip the bed. "Shower, honey," she’d murmur, already gathering the sheets. Corey hated it. But he hated the helplessness more. The Night Sam Found Out It was late. Their mother was downstairs, reading in the kitchen. Sam sat at his desk, a lamp casting a warm glow over his notes. He was buried in equations, half-asleep, when he suddenly remembered— The textbook. Corey had said he could borrow it. But Sam had forgotten to ask before his brother crashed for the night. He glanced at the time. Past midnight. Corey would be dead asleep. Sam hesitated, but then pushed back his chair and got up, walking silently across the hall to his brother’s room. The door creaked as he nudged it open. Moonlight streamed in from the window, casting long shadows across the room. Corey was sprawled on the bed, blankets half-kicked off, limbs loose in deep sleep. His breathing was slow, even. Sam tiptoed inside, careful not to make a sound. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then he saw it. His breath caught. Between Corey’s legs, peeking out from under the sheets, was something unmistakable. Sam froze. The sight was surreal, like a glitch in reality. The Goodnites—because that’s exactly what they were—fit snugly against Corey’s slim frame, the waistband hugging his hips, the soft fabric stretching over him. The design was exactly as Sam remembered from the packs in the store—the night-sky blue, the tiny stars, the discreet padding that looked bulkier now than it did in the packaging. And they were… full. Sam could see the way they had swelled, how the material strained slightly, heavier than when dry. His pulse pounded in his ears. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. For years, he had kept this desire buried, convinced it was his alone, something no one else would ever understand. And yet here was Corey—his wild, reckless, confident older brother—lying in bed, wearing the very thing Sam had spent his life too ashamed to even buy. His stomach flipped. He had come for a textbook. But he had found something else entirely. And now, he didn’t know what to do with it. An Unexpected Conversation A few evenings later, the house was in its usual nighttime rhythm. The TV flickered in the dimly lit living room, filling the space with muted dialogue and ambient sound. Sam and Corey sat on the couch, both in their pajamas—Corey in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, Sam in his usual comfortable sleepwear. Their mother sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a novel, her wine glass barely touched. Corey was barely paying attention to the TV, his focus entirely on his phone, scrolling with lazy swipes. He laughed at something, probably a meme, completely at ease. Sam, on the other hand, was far from relaxed. His mind was racing, the image from the other night playing over and over in his head. He wasn’t sure why it unsettled him so much—it wasn’t disgust, or even judgment. It was something else, something harder to define. His curiosity gnawed at him, impossible to ignore. Just ask. He swallowed, shifting in his seat. “Hey, Corey…” “Mm?” Corey didn’t look up from his phone. Sam hesitated, fingers tapping against his knee. He glanced toward the kitchen, but their mother wasn’t paying them any attention. “…About the other night.” That got Corey’s attention. He turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “What about it?” Sam could feel the heat rising in his face. He had no idea how to phrase it. “I, uh… I saw something.” Corey’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked amused. “Oh yeah?” Sam exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of his pajama pants. “I was looking for that textbook, and when I went in your room, I saw… y’know.” He trailed off, his throat suddenly dry. A slow grin spread across Corey’s face. “Ohhh. That.” Sam nodded stiffly, feeling like his skin was on fire. Corey set his phone down and stretched his arms over his head, completely unfazed. “Damn, I was wondering when you’d say something.” Sam blinked. “…You’re not embarrassed?” Corey chuckled. “Why would I be? You act like I got caught doing something illegal.” Sam didn’t know how to respond to that. Then Corey smirked. “Wanna see?” Sam’s stomach flipped. “H-huh?” Without hesitation, Corey pushed himself up slightly, hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants, and in one swift motion, pulled them down. Sam barely had time to react before his brother was sitting there, completely relaxed, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a snug, light blue Goodnites under him. The familiar design—the stars, the night sky pattern—stood out against Corey’s skin. The fit was perfect, hugging his waist, the padding forming a gentle curve around him. Sam could even see the faint, crinkled texture in the dim lighting. Corey gave his hips a little wiggle, as if showing off. “Not bad, huh?” Sam’s mouth was dry. His brain felt like static. “…You’re wearing one right now?” Corey shrugged, raising his t-shirt and revealing his lightly defined abs to tug on the waistband as if to check if he was wet, “Yeah, why not? They’re comfortable.” Sam stared, trying to process everything. “But… I thought you only wore them because—” “Because of the bedwetting?” Corey finished for him. He grinned. “At first, yeah. But then I just kinda liked ‘em. So now I wear them every night. Drinking or not.” Sam’s heart was pounding. He had spent years hiding his fascination, convinced it was some deep, unexplainable shame. Yet here was Corey, completely open about it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “…Why?” Corey leaned back into the couch, resting an arm over the backrest. “Dunno. Guess it started when Mom joked about putting me back in diapers.” Sam stiffened. “She joked about it?” Corey nodded, smirking at the memory. “Yeah. After the third or fourth time she had to help clean up my sheets, she laughed and said, ‘Maybe I should just put you back in diapers.’” He paused, his grin widening. “And I was like, ‘Why not then?’” Sam’s breath hitched. “And… she actually did it?” Corey nodded. “Next day, I came home and there was a pack of Goodnites on my bed. Right next to a bottle of baby powder. Guess she figured I was serious.” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And you just… started wearing them?” Corey shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. First night, I put one on, and it was way better than waking up in a puddle. But even on nights I didn’t drink? I dunno, I just kinda liked ‘em. So now it’s part of my nighttime routine.” He grinned, shifting slightly so the Goodnites crinkled just a bit. “Honestly, I don’t even think Mom cares. She buys them for me now. I mean, why wouldn’t she? Less laundry for her.” Sam felt lightheaded. His secret—the thing that had haunted him for years—was sitting right in front of him, completely accepted, normalized, even encouraged. Corey nudged him. “What? Thought you’d be weirded out?” Sam swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I thought.” Then, with a grin, Corey added, “Mom said if I ever poo in them, she’s buying actual Pampers for me.” Sam’s entire body locked up. His heart thudded in his chest. His hands clenched against his pajama pants. Corey said it so nonchalantly as if it was just some offhand joke. But to Sam, the words slammed into him like a freight train. Pampers. The brand that had always captivated him. The brand that had burned itself into his mind from childhood, the one thing he had never been able to let go of. And now Corey was talking about them. But worse—Sam’s brain betrayed him in an instant. Without warning, his mind conjured an image, vivid and uncontrollable—his older brother, lying in bed, wearing an actual Pampers diaper. Not a pull-up. Not something discreetly disguised as underwear. A real one. Thick, crinkly, soft white padding stretched up to his waist, hugging his hips, the babyish designs contrasting against his adult body. And then— The idea of Corey pooing in it. Sam’s breath caught, his face burning as his mind painted the scene in stunning, unbearable clarity. Sam felt like his entire brain had short-circuited. His head was on fire, sparks shooting through his brain, electricity running down his spine. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He shouldn’t want this. And yet. Corey shrugged, completely unaware of the hurricane raging inside Sam’s head. “Not that I would, obviously. I’ve got my limits.” He laughed, stretching his legs out. “Still, imagine if she did it.” Sam was imagining it. And it was driving him insane. His heart was racing. Corey nudged him. “Dude, you’re spacing out again.” Sam snapped back to reality, forcing a casual shrug. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired.” Corey smirked, not entirely convinced. “Sure.” The TV droned on, their mother still absorbed in her book. Sam sat there, face neutral, body still, but inside… Inside, his thoughts were anything but still. And for the first time in his life, he was forced to admit the truth to himself. He wanted them. More than anything. And now, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending otherwise.