The Thanksgiving Punishment - Part 3 (Patreon)

A few hours had gone by and I was on the couch watching the football game with everyone feeling quite uncomfortable. I had managed to wet the diaper a few more times through dinner and throughout my first slice of pie.

I never liked how a wet diaper felt during our diaper play. Usually, diaper play was reserved for the bedroom because it increased the humiliation factor. There was a reason I never wore diapers in any other situation.

The feeling of thick padding around my waist that pressed my penis and balls from all sides like a thick soft balloon wasn’t the most enjoyable experience. In fact, I tried to spend as little time in a diaper as possible. But now I was experiencing a different sensation. It was as if the diaper was refusing to take any more liquid in and the mass in the middle was floating at this point. No, not floating… sloshing. I was worried that if I did wet again, then I’d leak all over the couch.

The worst part was that I really needed to use the restroom for more… serious things.

This was getting out of hand.

I walked over Natasha, bow legged, crinkly and red in the face. I needed her to get her to relent on her earlier comment about my now bulging diaper.

But I had badly miscalculated waiting so long.

Natasha looked at me from her perch in the kitchen, surrounded by her friends and asked me what my problem was. I heard it in her voice. The slight upward tone, the judgement in her eyes, the curl the graced the the corner of her lips.

My girlfriend was tipsy and passing into drunk territory.

Fuck me.

Whenever she got like this, there was no convincing her of anything. There was no way to get her to do anything that she didn’t want to do. If anything, Natasha became more stubborn the drunker she got.

But I had to try.

“Hey, babe?” I asked gently, shuffling the mittens that still trapped my hands.

“Baby!” Natasha said innocently, nearly spilling her wine. Her voice was hard enough to remind me that she was still slightly impatient.

“Do you think we can speak in the hallway real quick?” There was no way I was asking this in front of the gaggle of her friends.

“Sure thing.” Natasha said grinning and setting down her wine glass. “Are you wet?”

The girls she was sitting with all giggled to themselves.

I nearly froze, thinking they knew my padded secret. My brain was screaming. But I had to stay focused.

“Ha,” I laughed nervously trying to save face. “I didn’t spill anything if that’s what you mean.”

Natasha just grinned and joined me in the hallway. On the way out of the room, she slapped my padded bottom. The smack made a dull thud and I felt the wetness hit my bottom with a squish. Luckily the room was too loud for anyone else to hear what was going on in my pants. In fact, thanks to the wetness of my diaper, the crinkles were actually not as loud. Though, the fact that my pants looked extreemly tight as a result of the fullness of the plastic padding didn’t do me any favors. I wasn’t sure if I could trade one for the other if I would.

“Tasha,” I said once we entered the hallway, “I can’t change this myself and you know that. Any chance you can help me?” I explained that I really didn’t want Francis to change me.

My abdomen did another flip as Natasha shook her head. “I think I might be too drunk,” she said smiling at me and then giggling. She was probally right.

“Just try,” I pleaded. “For me babe?”

I didn’t want to beg, but I felt that was probally better than demanding right now.

“Come on.” I said gently, smiling a goofy smile as Natasha laughed to herself. “Let’s go upstairs and take care of this.”

Natasha nodded. “Finneee.” She dragged out fine a few syllables. “Let’s get you changed.”

I smiled and squished my way upstairs, my drunk Natasha following after me. To her credit, Natasha trundled over to the closet and pulled out a diaper, some powder and some wipes.

“Who would have thought at this age I’d be changing my boyfriend’s diapers because he needed this?” Natasha said as I lay down on the floor.

I ignored that comment for the sake of diplomacy.

Natasha leaned voer me and grinned. She took a second and squeezed the pastic padding in her hands. The plastic crinkled slightly as I wiggled under her touch. I was not in the mood for games however, and kept quiet.

My drunk girlfriend then proceeded to pull off the tapes and promptly exposed my private parts to the room. The cool air on me caused me to shiver slightly as Natasha laughed at my exposed region.

She fondled my penis and laughed a bit. “It’s wet,” She said, squishing the diaper back up and down against my lower regions. “Do you like that?” Natasha was giggling now.

“Come on, Natasha,” I prodded gently trying to ignore my growing erection. “Let’s get moving.”

“Let’s get what moving?” A voice from the door startled both of us.

In the doorway came Francis grinning a Cheshire like grin. Lucky for me at the moment, my girlfriend was blocking my most sensitive areas from view. But Francis continued into the room, seemingly unbothered by the scene in front of her.

“I’m just changing Kyle’s diaper,” Natasha slurred, laughing and pulling the diaper back down off my private regions with a plop.

“Ohhh…” Francis grinned even harder. “Kyle really didn’t want me to change his pampers earlier for some reason.”

I’m not sure why Francis kept referring to them as pampers. It was as if she wanted me to feel like a baby.

I glared at Francis from the floor. For a second, thought about standing up, but there was no way I could stand and look tough Winnie the Pooing my way through a conversation with this woman.

“Do you need help?” Francis asked.

“We are fine thank you very much,” I said a little harsher than intended.

“Actually,” Natasha was leaning to the side slightly now, still drunker than I think she realized. “I could use your help.”

My brain was screaming again.

No fucking way.

I’d figure out a way to do this myself if I had to. I tried to reach over to the diaper and pull it over towads me, but my hands were useless. In the process of trying to get the diaper under me, I managed to ruin the tapes and spill enough powder to get high. As the dust settled I could see Francis and Natasha looking at me in clear amusement.

Francis never stopped smiling during my investigative moment.

“Do you need help Kyle?” she asked.

I glared back at her.

“It’s fine Kyle,” Francis insisted. “Let me help you.”

I looked at my mittened hands and the diapered mess that was sitting between my legs. There was no way I could do this myself. So I did the only thing I could do, I slumped back on the floor. Fine. Francis would be changing my pampers. Ugh.

***

To say that Francis jumped at the opportunity to participate in this process would be to say that water was moist. She looked like she was trembling with excitement as she spoke to Natasha and approached the diaper that was slid underneath me..

Francis proceeded to pull a wet wipe out and started wiping down my private parts. Because of the nature of this interaction, my penis lay limp, humiliated and defeated.

After wiping me down quickly, she tried to pull the tapes of the diaper together. Only because of the ripped tapes and the powder I spilled, the diaper’s tapes were absolutely useless.

“There’s another one in the closet,” Natasha chucked to herself from her perch on the floor.

“Thanks,” Francis said.She got up and grabbed another diaper. Unlike the one underneath me, this one had baby blocks on it and said the letters BABY over and over. I cringed. It looked way to baby for wearing on Thanksgiving of all days. But I didn’t complain, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. I noticed that Francis had come back with a tub of Vaseline as well and another box. I stared at the ceiling as she proceeded to rub the Vaseline between my butt crack. I winced when her finger went up inside of me and caused my member to twitch slightly. That was unexpected.

But soon she was powdering me and instructing me to lift up again. I complied and watched in horror as she slid the second diaper, under the first and then taped both of them shut.

“There’s no need to waste a good diaper,” Francis said wiping her hands. “They’re expensive.”

Then Francis did something odd, she leaned over me and got really close to my face. “I bet you’re nice and snug in your pampers.”

What was this woman playing at? Why was she feeling the need to be so… involved?

Francis proceeded to helped me stand up.

I don’t know what I expected, but standing up was a challenge. I guess when wearing double diapers, it’s like wearing a rock climbing harness. I took a few tentative steps forward. The diaper was a consistently thick presence between my theighs, reminding me that it… no they, were there. Each step forced my legs to fight against the large mass of plastic padding between my legs, forcing bow leggedness in the process.

Natasha gave a drunk giggle and commented on the amount of crinkle that filled the room which each step. “They’re really cute on you,” she remarked, pulling out her phone and proceeding to video the entire process.

“There’s no need for that,” I insisted catching a glimpse at my padded posterior in the mirror while trying to pull my radically too short polo over the thick padding. I cringed to myself as the project pulled futile. My next thought was damming: How would my pants fit over the diaper?

Very snug was the answer.

Francis helped me step into the pants, one leg at a time and laughed as she tugged the button shut. Her fingers strained against the flex in the pants, no doubt the diaper making my size thirty waist a tad bit larger. Even though the button closed, my midsection looked humongous.

At least my ass looked good in this state, I said to myself grimly.

I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this one bit. I resolved from that moment to just stay in in this room and not return back downstairs. I still has the issue where I couldn’t use my hands, so the new double diaper wasn’t coming off anytime soon. But the other issue was the grumbling in my stomach. All day, I had the feeling of impending doom… as if I knew the inevitable would occur sooner than later.

But Francis and Natasha had other ideas. Natasha insisted I return downstairs and join the party. It was the least I could do, she said looking at me. Especially after ruining dinner.

As I trudged after the two women to rejoin the game downstairs, bow-legged and nervous, I was certian I could last a few more hours to the point where everyone went home.

And I’d be free.

Only… my stomach seemed to have other ideas.

***