The Thanksgiving Punishment - Part 2 (Patreon)

I’m never sure if a mirror can glare back at me or not. But this mirror seemed to do something even more menacing than show my reflection.

The floor-length mirror, which leaned gracefully against the wall, showed me a perception of reality that scared me.

There was no way I actually looked like this.

There was no way that my broad shoulders, which stretched the salmon-colored polo shirt slightly, was hardly touching the top of the diaper that hugged my midsection.

There was no way, my muscled arms, one with a year's long tattooed sleeve, ended in what looked like mittens, rendering my hands useless.

What made matters worse is that the room looked so large around me. The mirror forced a perspective of myself that I wasn’t expecting.

The reality: I looked like an oversized toddler.

I reached my injured hands down to the bottom front of the diaper and was shocked at how thick the plastic was. When I pushed hard against the front of the diaper, I couldn’t even feel myself underneath the padding. It was an odd feeling for sure. It was as if my own access to my manhood had been revoked.

I cringed slightly as my fingers began to hurt. The oven had done its damage.

I tried to manipulate my fingers so I could take the diaper off. But my injuries only made this impossible. The crinkling of the diaper was incredibly loud, filling my eardrums with this distinct noise that would have annoyed me in a movie theater.

The mirror continued to mock me, reminding me at every glance of the futility of my efforts.

Laughter from downstairs jolted me from my thoughts. Part of me knew heading downstairs was going to be instant death. But as I pulled my nice pants up over the diaper, I was determined to make it through the night. This was Natasha’s night after all. She had been looking forward to this, and I knew I was already in hot water today because of my injury and ruining dinner.

But you didn’t ruin dinner, my mind shot back. If anything, you saved dinner.

I grimaced as the mirror glared at me again from its innocent yet condescending stance in the corner. You could tell there was a bulge in my pants. And it wasn’t the good kind.

“Is everything okay?” My girlfriend's voice drifted upstairs from the bottom of the stairs.

I’m not so sure why I scowled in the mirror in that moment. Maybe because it was out of anger or maybe it was disappointment in myself. Maybe it was because I wanted to feel masculine before I made the descent downstairs. But I did it. I took one last look at the man who was wearing the underwear of a baby and walked… well waddled… downstairs.

***

When I arrived back at the table to take my place opposite of Natasha, I stared at the mashed potatoes that had now gotten cold sitting next to a few pieces of ham that I was now not in the mood for. I was surprised that no one had stood up the moment I entered the room and proclaimed loudly that I was wearing a diaper. The diaper felt obvious. Anyone could look at me and tell what I was wearing.

But the forks and knives kept clattering and people continued their conversations, complementing the spread and forcing more food into their stomachs. Even I began to try and relax a little bit. Except, relaxing wasn’t quite the right thing to do in this moment.

I had this sinking realization that soon, very soon, I’d have to use the diaper that was around my waist eventually.

Tasha had made that much clear.

She wouldn’t be taking me back and forth to the bathroom all night.

I frowned slightly as the woman next to me continued to speak to me about the shopping she’d already gotten done that week. If I were rude, I had to confess that I couldn’t focus on the conversation. My mind was too focused on the growing sensation in my bladder and abdomen. The diaper was having an odd effect on me. It was all I could think about. It was all I could focus on.

“Kyle?” The woman asked again. The tone of her voice made it obvious this was not the first time she’d called my name.

I refocused on her and started to listen. She had been asking if we were planning on making any big purchases this weekend for Black Friday. I insisted that Natasha and I had decided that there wasn’t much we needed and that consumerism was the scourge of society.

I glanced up toward Natasha to see her still engrossed in conversation. Instead of focusing on her, the woman next to her, the one with the red hair and green dress, was staring back at me. Francis was a long-time friend of Natasha and didn’t seem to blink as she stared in my direction.

My brain snapped back to what my girlfriend had said earlier.

Francis suggested these would be good for you tonight…

My brain was working overtime at this moment. Natasha would never purposely embarrass me in front of all of our friends, would she? I would have to think that if she were embarrassed, then it would be a long night for me.

But as I shifted in my seat, holding my bladder from all the beer I had consumed that night, my mind began to make new connections. If her boyfriend were in diapers and everyone at the table found out, then she’d be embarrassed. That meant the diapers I would be wearing would have to be hidden in order for her to save face. That also meant that Francis wouldn’t just tell everyone my padded secret either. That would hurt Natasha.

But that gave me very little comfort at this moment. Knowing that Francis knew about the plastic padding clinging to my waist was embarrassing. It caused my face to feel hot and bothered. I felt myself start to sweat as Francis continued to stare my way and at the same time, shove a roll into her mouth.

It was like I was a cat devouring a young child, while the mother looked on, having escaped with the rest of her litter.

My bladder twinged again.

I shifted in my seat again and sipped some water, stupidly thinking it would distract me from everything.

I blinked a few times and did my best to focus on the woman sitting next to me. But it was a lost cause. The more she spoke, the more I realized I was going to lose control right there. As the woman continued speaking, I tried to release just a little bit of my bladder to relieve just a small amount of pressure.

But it was as if someone had cracked the dam.

In a quick moment, my bladder seized the opportunity to get the release it desperately wanted. At first, my body felt relieved. But what was puzzling was that I didn’t immediately feel wet. Instead, I felt just euphoria, a lightheadedness rushed over me. I slowly spread my legs open slightly to make room for the stream.

I was used to sitting down using the restroom. I just do it every single morning when I’m tired and out of my mind. But I had never peed as an adult, in front of an entire dining table of people, let alone, while someone was sitting there speaking to me about the shopping they were planning on doing next week.

But while the idea of what was happening was frozen in my mind, the woman kept speaking. It felt like she should know what was happening. I felt like there was no way she couldn’t tell what was happening.

But instead, she kept babbling on about how Black Friday isn’t what it used to be.

But soon, the euphoria gave way to panic. I hadn’t yet felt wetness in the diaper yet. Surly the diaper had failed at this point. That’s why I didn’t feel the wetness. That had to be what was happening. But as I continued to pee into the diaper, I did begin to feel the wetness. I felt the soft heaviness of the diaper surround my groin as the padding absorbed the wetness.

My heartbeat sped up. There was no way that the diaper had not leaked at this point. I had used the bathroom way to much. I had consumed way too much water.

I was pretty sure the chair I was sitting in had to be wet.

I casually ran my hand along the chair to check and see if I had ruined the chair. Nothing was there. The chair and my pants were bone dry. Everything was fine.

The woman next to me continued speaking as if nothing had happened. I glanced back down the table. Francis caught my eye and gave a slight smile and crudely bit down on another piece of her dinner roll.

I had a feeling that Francis knew exactly what had happened.

As I watched, Natasha stood up and pushed in her chair. She leaned over towards Natasha and whispered something to her. Natasha looked at me and back to Francis and nodded. Francis looked in my direction and walked across the table.

Francis leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Do you need your diaper changed?”

My blood ran cold.

So she did know.

I shook my head.

I was fine.

I didn’t know this woman.

There was no way I was going to let her touch my most intimate areas.

“Your mommy said that you needed your pampers changed,” Francis insisted.

I stared straight ahead and ignored her.

Francis wasn’t about to change me.

I looked up at Natasha who was once again engrossed in multiple conversations. I didn’t want to stand up, afriad that my diaper would leak and everyone would knwo what was going on.

“Natasha,” I hissed across the table, in an attempt to make eye contact with her and gain her attention. Francis continued to hover nearby. She was like a raptor, waiting for me to make one wrong step. It was clear she had something in mind. Something nefariously awful.

So I did the only thing I could do. I got up and slowly made my way to the other side of the room. I was consciously aware that the entire time, I had a slight waddle between my legs where the diaper I was wearing forced my backside to be more pronounced. I could have sworn that I heard a slight crinkle over the noise of the forks and knives as our guests clacked around.

Natasha glanced up at me, wine glass in her hand. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded. “I need your help.” I said holding up my hands. I was speaking in code as to not alert the others about my predicament.

“You need help?” Natasha asked, looking back at me blankly.

The fact that Natasha could say that with a straight face was astonishing.

“Yes.” I insisted firmly. “And you know with what.”

Natasha blinked. “I’m not dealing with that. Have Francis help you.”

My mouth dropped open. “Babe, that’s not going to happen.” I was gesturing with my mittened hands at this point to show I was serious about this.

Natasha looked at her plate again. “Fine, then. You can just soak.”

I waddled back to the other side of table feeling defeated at this point. There was no way in hell I was going to let Francis change my diapers. That was unreasonable and it felt wrong. I wasn’t surprised that Natasha would be fine with that. We swapped partners all the time. But this was different.

My abdomen gave a slight twinge again.

***