Harold was a practical man, well into his sixties, living alone in a modest house at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. His life had settled into a rhythm of quiet evenings, routine errands, and the occasional visit to the local café. One day, while tidying the attic, he stumbled across an old, dusty box shoved into the far corner. Inside was an unopened pack of adult diapers.
At first, Harold chuckled. “Why the hell would I keep these?” he muttered, shaking his head. He certainly didn’t have incontinence issues. Yet, something about them caught his attention. Their pristine white padding, the gentle curve of the folded material—they seemed…inviting. Silky, almost. Before he realized it, he had taken the pack downstairs and placed it on his nightstand.
Over the next few days, Harold found himself drawn to the diapers. He would sit on the edge of his bed, staring at the package, running his fingers over the soft plastic. It was ridiculous, and yet the yearning inside him grew. One evening, he peeled back the plastic wrapping and pulled out a single diaper. The texture was unlike anything he had ever felt—smooth, almost alive. He held it against his face briefly, ashamed of the strange comfort it brought him.
Finally, the temptation became too great. Harold unfolded one of the diapers and held it beneath himself, fully clothed, debating whether to put it on. That’s when it happened.
Without warning, the diaper sprang to life. Its wings flared open, wrapping themselves around his waist. The tapes latched on with an unnatural precision, locking the diaper into place over his pants. Harold yelped in shock, fumbling at the edges, trying to tear it off. But the material refused to budge. The tightness around his waist was overwhelming, as if the diaper had fused with his skin.
“What the—?!” Harold gasped, stumbling to the mirror.
The diaper shimmered faintly, almost glowing. Before his eyes, his pants began to dissolve, the fabric disintegrating into fine, gray particles that floated away. His shirt suffered the same fate, vanishing into the air until it tucked neatly into the waistband of the diaper. Now, Harold stood there, clad in nothing but the cursed garment.
Suddenly, he felt a probing sensation, deep and invasive. Something slithered upward inside him, exploring his bowels and bladder with meticulous efficiency. A jolt of electricity coursed through his body as the muscles responsible for control seemed to fade away. Without warning, his bladder released.
“No…no!” Harold groaned as a warm stream poured into the diaper. Yet, instead of leaking or staining, the diaper swelled slightly, its surface remaining spotless. It was almost as if it fed on his release.
A new sensation gripped him—a desperate pressure in his abdomen. Harold lurched toward the phone, intending to call for help, but just as he reached it, his legs buckled. He squatted instinctively, his body betraying him. The mess he had been holding for days burst forth, filling the diaper. It expanded again, its bulk cradling and absorbing everything with a sickening efficiency.
Panting, Harold tried to collect himself, but then the voice came.
It was soft, whispering directly into his mind.
“Your purpose is to serve me. To feed me. To bring others to share in this bliss.”
“No! You’re insane!” Harold shouted, but the voice persisted.
“Feel the release. Feel the pleasure of surrender.”
The diaper contracted, its material pressing and contorting in rhythmic waves. Harold gasped as the sensations overwhelmed him. Against his will, his arousal surged. He groaned, climaxing within the cursed garment. The diaper absorbed everything greedily, humming with satisfaction.
Bliss washed over Harold, melting away his resistance. The voice grew louder, more insistent.
“Bring them. They will join you in service.”
Dazed, Harold grabbed his phone. He began to type, inviting his friends—Paul, Greg, Martin—to come over. His fingers moved without thought, driven by the diaper’s will.
“They’ll understand,” Harold whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “They’ll feel it too…”
The diaper pulsed in agreement, growing thicker and warmer, feeding off his compliance.
Greg is the first to show up knocking on Harold's doors. It wasn't often that they hang out but his message seemed a little desperate so he made it over as quickly as he could, worried for his friend. He knocked a few times with no answer, increasing his worry. After a few more knocks and a couple minutes of waiting he let himself in.
“Harold?” He yelled out wondering where he was. He heard a crinkle and shuffle from upstairs. He began to walk up the stairs. As he got closer to the top the crinkling sound became louder and he knew he was closer to whatever happened to Harold.
Greg hesitated as he reached the top of the stairs, his worry growing with each muffled crinkle and shuffle he heard from Harold’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and as he nudged it open, the scene before him froze him in place. Harold was sitting on the edge of his bed, turned away, his body rocking back and forth. The room smelled faintly of talcum powder, and a low, rhythmic crinkling sound accompanied every movement Harold made.
“Harold?” Greg called out hesitantly, stepping closer.
Harold paused mid-rock, his body stiffening slightly. Slowly, he turned his head, and Greg felt his breath hitch. Harold looked different. His hair was fuller, his skin smoother. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth had faded, and his body seemed firmer, younger. But it wasn’t just his appearance—it was his expression. Harold’s eyes gleamed with an unnatural, childlike excitement, and he smiled widely as he stuck his thumb in his mouth.
“I’m fine, Greg,” Harold said, his voice unnervingly cheerful. “Thanks so much for coming. I just found the best new toy to play with!”
Greg’s eyes widened in horror as he noticed Harold’s attire. The older man was clad in nothing but an oversized diaper, its surface decorated with colorful baby animal prints. The garment sagged heavily, its bulk shifting as Harold shifted, but what terrified Greg the most was the faint pulsating motion, as though the diaper were alive.
“Harold…you don’t look fine,” Greg said, his voice shaky. “You…you look younger. What’s going on?”
Harold grinned, standing up from the bed with an unnatural fluidity. His diaper crinkled loudly as he moved. “I am amazing, Greg. Better than ever. And you will be too when you join me.”
He reached behind his back and pulled out a folded diaper identical to the one he was wearing, holding it out toward Greg like an offering. “Just try it,” Harold urged. “You’ll feel incredible. I promise.”
Greg instinctively backed away, his heart pounding. “Harold, I don’t know what’s going on, but you need help. This isn’t normal!”
Harold’s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of determination. “I don’t need help, Greg. I’ve never felt more alive. And you will too.”
“Harold, no!” Greg shouted as he was tackled to the ground. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and Harold’s strength was shocking—far beyond what Greg would’ve expected from the older man. Harold pinned Greg down with ease, his diaper sagging and crinkling as he straddled him.
“Don’t fight it,” Harold said soothingly, his tone almost patronizing. “You’ll thank me.”
With one hand, Harold unfolded the cursed diaper and held it over Greg’s waist. Greg struggled desperately, kicking and thrashing, but Harold’s grip was unrelenting. The diaper hovered over Greg for a moment, and then, as if sensing its target, it sprang to life.
The diaper snapped shut around Greg’s waist with an audible thwack, its tapes securing themselves tightly. Greg screamed, clawing at the garment, but it was no use. The material began to glow faintly, and Greg’s clothes dissolved into thin air, just as Harold’s had. He cried out as something cold and probing snaked up inside him, and his body went limp as his muscles began to give way.
“No…no, please,” Greg whimpered, tears streaming down his face.
The diaper pulsed and swelled as Greg’s bladder and bowels emptied involuntarily, the garment absorbing everything with an almost greedy efficiency. The once-pristine surface remained spotless, but it throbbed faintly, as though feeding on its contents.
Greg’s protests became weaker as the voice entered his mind.
“You are mine now. Surrender. Serve me.”
The words echoed in his head, accompanied by waves of bliss that dulled his resistance. Greg’s breathing slowed, his eyes glazing over as his mind began to succumb.
Meanwhile, Paul and Martin, who had just arrived, stood frozen in the doorway, their faces pale with shock.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Paul shouted, stepping into the room.
Harold turned to face them, his grin widening. His sagging diaper convulsed slightly, almost as if it were laughing along with him.
“Don’t worry, guys,” Harold said, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. “You’re just in time. There’s enough for everyone.”
Greg, now fully under the diaper’s control, stood up beside Harold. His body had begun to change, his skin smoothing out and his posture relaxing. He smiled blankly, mirroring Harold’s childlike demeanor.
Paul and Martin exchanged a horrified glance before bolting for the stairs.
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