A DIAPERED DECISION
The panty was peach silk decorated with sprawling, thin grey branches and reddish-pink cherry blossoms, looking like it was made from the silken scraps of a Japanese kimono. Iris fingered the smooth, expensive material as she brought it closer to the scissors in her other hand. Her slim fingers pulled the scissors open and slid the dainty cloth between the metal.
“This is really it. No going back. I want this.”
She froze before she could cut the panty. The panty, no longer her panty. “Not mine. Not anymore.” She rubbed the silk some more. They felt like a stranger’s panties, not her own. So thin, so substantial. No protection whatsoever.
She needed protection now. The thick, absorbent padding swaddling her crotch had all the comfort of an old friend. She had, in a way, always needed diapers- emotionally at least, had always been drawn to them. From a child who used to steal towels out of the bathroom cupboard and shoved them down her pants to a young college woman who bought crappy, cheap grocery store diapers and smuggled them into her dorm. Her love of diapers had always been with her. The older she got, the more she wore them and the more a part of her life they became, a source of psychological comfort that helped her cope better with the stress in her life. Now a college graduate with the first job in her career and first apartment all to herself, she had taken a hard, long look at her life before making a major decision.
Iris lowered the scissors from the panty and ran her fingers over the smooth plastic shell of her thick diaper. The crotch was warm with fresh urine. It felt right and natural. This was who she was, who she had always been- a girl who wanted, needed diapers. Panties felt awkward and wrong to her. Always had, so she made the decision to do something about it, to right that wrong.
Warm wetness trickled into her already wet diaper and spread around her crotch. “No regrets.” She smiled to herself. Diapers were her underwear, a portable potty strapped to her waist 24/7. She had turned her psychological need physical. She no longer wanted to wear diapers; she had to wear them, or she would end up with wet pants.
For the last several months, Iris had been diaper training herself. It was not a decision made lightly. She knew what the consequences, both good and bad, were. But it felt so right, so complete, that she did not care. She’d deal with whatever the results were from something that helped her be more comfortable with herself.
Diaper training was not easy. Diapers, especially the premium ones she ordered online, were not cheap. She had to keep herself shaved to fight odor and guard against rashes. She had to learn to listen to her body, struggle to keep her sphincter muscles relaxed, to just go whenever she felt the need, no matter her diapered or undiapered state or what she was doing. She had had to train herself to wet her diaper, getting comfortable in all positions and situations, even embarrassing ones. If her diaper was saturated to the point of leaking, she still had to wet, leaks in public be damned. The more she kept at it, the easier it got as she fought to undo her potty training. Iris had reached the point in her diaper training journey where she was now dependent on diapers. She only realized she was wetting once she started to go and felt the thick, absorbent material grow warm and wet as she peed herself like a baby. Peeing took her by surprise and her bladder capacity had shrunk.
“When was the last time I even sat on a toilet? Or wore these?” Iris fingered the panties with one hand and rubbed her diaper with the other. She couldn’t even remember the last time the skin of her derriere plunked down on the cold porcelain of a toilet. Now, that almost seemed unnatural. Her diapers had truly become a part of her. She should cut up the panties she hadn’t worn in months to symbolize her determination to stay diapered.
She stared down at the scissors laying at her side, then to the panties she still held. She put her feet through the leg holes, standing up then pulling the panties up over her legs. Her diaper crinkled as she moved. The bulky padding forced her legs apart. The silk of the panty stretched wide once it encountered the bulge of the diaper and her spread hips. She tugged the tiny panty up into place with a grunt. A small but noisy fart slipped out of her and she wondered if she was going to mess herself.
Iris paused in her pulling to rub her stomach. She didn’t feel like a bowel movement was imminent. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, chewing as she poked at her crinkly, padded backside. Still nice and dry, not wet or messy yet, though she knew soon enough that would change- that was just part of the new life she had chosen.
She went back to tugging on the panties, compelled to put them on over her diaper. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to them, not just yet. She knew she should let go of them; she could never wear them. It was diapers and diapers only for her, yet a small part of her latched o to those panties and she could not figure out why.
With another grunt and another fart, she yanked the panty into place over her bulging diaper and felt a small trickle of warmth spurt out as she stood fully up. She had paid quite a bit of money for the panties from some designer lingerie boutique. They were itty bitty hip huggers. Hardly anything to them; they barely fit over the bottom part of her enormous and monstrously thick diaper.
Iris caught sight of herself in the full length bedroom mirror and giggled. “I look ridiculous.” She stared down at the length of thick white padding bulging out of the tiny silk.
Any normal woman would have felt ridiculous in the diaper, but Iris felt ludicrous in the panty. She ran her hands over the strange combination covering her private parts. The panty was soft and slick under her fingertips as she rubbed her crotch then her hand glided up. The diaper’s plastic crinkled underneath her touch, calling to her. Her fingers skimmed over the smooth plastic, all the way up her belly until they hit into the rough tabs.
She tapped the tabs, smiling down at her diaper and felt yet another tiny spurt of pee, as if her bladder was subconsciously affirming her choice. It seemed to dribble constantly so she was rarely dry anymore. She patted her wet diaper then shimmied the stretched-out panty off her slim legs and huge diaper. As she moved, the diaper crinkled loudly. Her heavily diaper-cream coated cheeks slid against each other and felt almost as if she’d messed herself.
Iris stared down at the panty. “You aren’t for me anymore, but you’re still too pretty to cut.” She knew she should cut up her drawer full of panties, to fully mentally commit to her diaper training, but try as she might, she just could not bring herself destroy them. They were from her old life, and she could no longer wear them….but they were like pretty souvenirs from a trip. She had willingly and happily moved to Diaper Island, but she still wanted a few mementos from her sojourn in Potty Land.
She had already cleaned out her closet, getting rid of clothes that would no longer fit over her huge diapers. It was one of the first things she had done when she decided to make diapers her new underwear permanently. Her short shorts that easily showed off her diaper bulge, or skirts and dresses that were so short they showed off her diaper, all had gone to resale shops and charity. Gone too were her comfortable yet tight yoga pants, which showed off her butt in all its excessively padded glory. She had gone shopping for new, diaper-concealing pants, shorts, and dresses. All of which was also, inadvertently, more modest.
“This was a waste of time.” She shrugged and tossed the panty back into the cardboard box with her other panties. She saw no reason to cut them up- she was already committed to her diapered life. The wet diaper around her waist, the diaper cream and tons of sweet smelling baby powder were evidence enough of that. She put the lid back on the box and shoved it back under her bed, where she had placed it months ago when she started her diaper training. Then, she had tried to cut her old panties up and had not been able to do it. She hadn’t been completely sure she would stick with her un-potty training and still had panties as a choice, wanted them as a safety net and back up plan. She had tried numerous times after that as her bladder grew weaker and weaker and she needed her diapers more and more.
Now….Iris patted the front of her wet diaper. Now, she had no choice. Her old underwear were just pretty momentos. She had no regrets. The phone rang and she waddled off to answer it, thick diaper crinkling noisily all the way, the new soundtrack of her diapered life.