School Reunion part 3 of ?
[part 1]
[part 2]
Evan’s fingers tightened around the pull-up, the plastic crinkling softly. He could still hear the distant hum of laughter from the gym, the occasional rustle of fabric, the easy confidence of women’s voices. The world out there had already decided what was normal. Here, in this quiet, powder-scented stall, he was the only one still hesitating.
He exhaled sharply, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls. The pull-up wasn’t what Lily had really been asking for. It was a test, a gateway. He knew it. She knew it. The whole room probably knew it.
His thumb pressed against the pastel waistband, tracing the faint embossed pattern. It was soft, almost inviting. But it wasn’t enough.
Evan turned, his shoulder brushing against the stall door. Through the crack, the changing tables gleamed under the fluorescent lights, their padding thick and pristine. Neat stacks of diapers sat beside them, each one folded with precision, the school mascot grinning up from the plastic. He could almost hear the faint crinkle of them, the whisper of a world that had moved on without him.
He made his decision in a single, sharp breath.
The pull-up went into the small waste bin beside the toilet, landing with a quiet thud against the liner. He hesitated for only a second before reaching for the dispenser mounted on the wall. It was sleek, white, almost clinical. A single tug released a thick, rectangular package, the plastic cool and smooth beneath his fingers.
Evan turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of it. The diaper was heavier than he expected, the plastic backing stiff, the padding dense. He ran his fingers along the edges, tracing the elastic leg cuffs, the tabs at the waist. It was designed for comfort, for security. For control.
He stepped out of the stall, the diaper clutched against his chest. The bathroom was still empty, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the ventilation system. He moved toward the nearest changing table, the padding yielding slightly under his palm as he laid the diaper down. The plastic crinkled, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
Evan glanced at the door, half-expecting it to swing open, for someone to walk in and catch him. His mind raced, what would they say? Would they laugh? Would they even care? Lily’s voice echoed in his memory: Over half of American men are diapered these days. No one would bat an eye. No one would even question it.
The thought sent a strange, prickling heat up his neck.
He set the diaper aside and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. The air in the room was cool against his skin. His fingers fumbled with his belt, the metal buckle clinking softly as he undid it. The sound of his zipper seemed unnaturally loud. He stepped out of his pants, folding them neatly on the edge of the table, then his underwear, leaving him standing in just his socks.
Evan picked it up again, the plastic rustling as he unfolded it. The inner lining was soft, almost plush, the absorbency core thick and reassuring. He hesitated for only a moment before sliding it beneath him, the cool plastic against his skin sending a shiver down his spine.
He lowered himself onto the table, the padding giving way beneath him. The diaper crinkled loudly as he settled into it, the sound filling the room. It was strange, foreign, but not uncomfortable. The padding cupped him, the elastic snug around his legs. He shifted slightly, and the diaper rustled again, the noise oddly satisfying.
He reached for the tapes, pulling them snug across his waist. The plastic tabs stuck with a quiet rip, the sound final, irreversible. He smoothed the front, adjusting the fit, the diaper hugging him tightly. It was thicker than he’d imagined, the bulk of it pressing his legs apart.
Evan stood, the diaper crinkling with every movement. He turned toward the mirror above the sinks, his reflection staring back at him. He looked… different. Softer. Younger, almost. The man in the mirror wasn’t the same one who had walked into the reunion an hour ago.
His fingers twitched at his sides. He could still back out. He could take it off, stuff it in the bin with the pull-up, walk back into the gym and pretend this never happened. But the thought felt hollow now, pointless. The world had changed. The rules had changed. And standing here, in the quiet hum of the bathroom, the diaper snug against him, he realized something else had changed, too.
Evan’s fingers trembled as he reached for his shirt, the fabric slipping through his grip before he finally tugged it over his head. The cotton settled against his shoulders, but something was wrong. The hem rode up, catching on the thick waistband of the diaper. He pulled it down, but the material resisted, stretching taut over the padded bulk. The school mascot, Crestfield the Cougar, grinned up at him from the waistband, its cartoonish eyes bright and knowing.
He exhaled sharply, yanking the shirt again. It covered only the top edge of the diaper, leaving the rest exposed. His face burned. He could almost hear the laughter already, the whispers, the way Lily’s eyes would spark with amusement.
Evan turned toward his pants, lying folded on the edge of the changing table. He grabbed them, the denim stiff in his hands, and stepped into them. The waistband snagged immediately, the fabric straining over the diaper’s bulk. He tugged, twisted, but the zipper wouldn’t close. The seams groaned. He could feel the pressure of the padding, the way it pushed his legs apart, made his stance wider, clumsier.
He let go, the denim slumping to the floor with a soft thud. Evan stood there, staring at the discarded pants, the belt still threaded through the loops. His underwear lay beside them, forgotten. The reality of it settled over him: he wasn’t going to fit into his old clothes. Not like this. Not in this diaper.
What do you guys think happens next? Please comment!
turnnoffyourmind
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