The Thanksgiving Punishment - Part 4 (Patreon)

An hour later, the diapers were proving quite resilient. 

I had expected to be sitting legs spread, unable to move with this plastic beachball-like mass between my legs. But instead I found myself getting used to the double diapers.

I think I was getting used to the double diapers for the simple fact that I wasn’t moving around at all. Thankfully, that meant I wasn’t crinkling away throughout the living room. 

When I ended up following my tormentors downstairs, I had expected the room to burst into laughter when they saw me waddling into the living room. But when I had gone downstairs, following Francis and Natasha’s lead, everyone was so preoccupied with the game that I was just able to sit on the couch and grab the nearest blanket and try and hide.

But no one seemed to notice or care what was happening in my pants.

No one seemed to care about the crinkle that thundered throughout the room.

Natasha had taken to feeding me Apple Pie when the dessert and drinks came out. My hands were still pretty raw from earlier and the Apple Pie was a welcome distraction. But I was also struggling internally at the same time. My stomach was doing flips and churning. My adbomen was giving me this woozy feeling where I knew at any moment I was in danger of losing control at any second.

But I wasn’t about to mess myself in the middle of this room with everyone sitting around me. The reality was sobering.

I was stuck. 

There was no way for me to pull down my pants in order to untape the diapers so I could stagger my way to the porcelain bowl to do my business. Instead, I’d have to speak to Natasha and see if she could help me out.

But I remembered what happened the last time I had asked for a diaper change. 

Natasha has drunkenly laughed and gotten Francis involved. I sighed to myself as Francis looked into my eyes and spooned another bit of Apple Pie into my mouth. This time she missed slightly, hitting the side of my mouth, and caused the food to fall onto my shirt. 

Francis looked at me and giggled slightly, wiping my mouth with a napkin. There was no doubt she did that on purpose.

Someone’s a messy baby. 

Francis winked at me and turned her attention back to the television.

I ignored this entire infantile routine and took another deep breath to try and steady my abdomen for a moment. 

The desperate churning had appeared again.

In this moment, I believed I had a good argument to make with Natasha. Surly her “diaper discipline” was designed to make her life easier. She didn’t want to change my diapers... well, the diapers (they weren't mine, I didn't like wearing them after all) because it was annoying for her to stop what she was doing and deal with a man wearing a diaper. I could understand why she decided to pull out the diapers. My brain could even rationalize why Natasha wanted me to actually use the diaper. It meant that I didn’t have to bug her every single time I had to use the restroom. It meant her life was easier even if mine was just a little inconvenienced.

But there was no way Natasha actually expected me to use the diaper for larger, messier issues. If anything, she’d want me to come to her and let her know that I was on the verge of an foul explosion. My brain rationalized the argument that would spur Natasha into action and save me from what just moments ago seemed to be inevitable. Sure, it would be humiliating for Natasha to help me to the restroom, wait for me to do my business and help me wipe, but that’s what partners are for. Besides, Natasha had seen me in a soaked diaper, on the floor like a fucking child. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

I cleared my throat and tried to make eye contact with Natasha. But she was tilted with her head back on the couch sleeping. Francis looked at me quizzically.

“Is everything okay?” Francis had put down the plate of pie and studied my face.

I nodded, very much aware that I was suddenly feeling warm. “I’m fine. I just need Natasha.”

Francis glanced over to Natasha and then back to me. “Looks like she’s asleep. We probably don’t want to wake her up right?”

I crinkled a little, adjusting myself under the blanket. My stomach was doing flips now. I didn’t have much time at this point.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll just go over and wake her up.”

Francis studied my face, no doubt looking for signs of weakness.

I winced as my abdomen flipped again.

Francis grinned, no doubt seeing the weakness she craved. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded quickly and folded my arms across my chest and tried to focus on the football players who were causing themselves permanent brain damage for our entertainment.

But Francis wasn’t letting up. As my abdomen continued to flip and churn she leaned close to me and whispered directly in my ear, “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Francis leaned back and grinned, pleased with herself.

I refused to acknowledge her presence and instead focused on getting Natasha’s attention. But Tasha was dead to the world, no doubt trying to sleep off all the alcohol she had been drinking. Francis just grinned in my direction, crossing her legs and pulling down her crop top slightly so it barely graced the top of her black leggings.

My stomach did another churn.

In my panicked state, I went to stand up and excuse myself, but Francis looked at me. “Go ahead. Stand up and leave the room. And I’ll tell everyone where you’re going.”

“What am I going to do?” I shot back. There was no way she knew my predicament.

But somehow, Francis knew what was happening. It was like she’d been in thie very same situation before and knew what was happening to me.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Francis said back, grinning and speaking in the warm velvety voice she had adapted for the moment. “You are going to mess your diaper right here on the couch.”

I froze. 

Because in that instant I knew she was right. My abdomen was cramping and churning at this point. Francis’ threat to expose me to everyone kept me glued to the couch and scared the shit out of me. For a moment, I felt that I could just sit here and bare the brunt of the pain until the last guest left. But sixty seconds into sitting on the couch watching the clock tick down, I knew it was a losing battle.

“Okay Francis, if I do this… can you help me get changed?” I was desperate.

Francis looked back at me and grinned. “If you do what?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Francis became wide-eyed and pretended to be innocent. “I’m sorry Andrew, but I simply do not.”

I folded my arms again and glared at the television. Another player was being carted off the field after a play. He looked like he was in pain. Though to be honest, I was pretty sure I was in more pain right now than that millionaire was. He didn’t have Francis to contend with.

My stomach flipped again. I realized I had no choice but to respond to Natasha’s narcissistic friend.

“I need to use my diaper. But please Francis, can you help me change when this is over? I really don’t want to do this.” I spoke quickly and quietly because I could feel my body giving up completely.

“Right.” Francis looked down at her hands, frowning. “But what do you have to do in your diaper Andrew.” Her voice had gotten louder causing the people next to us to glance over toward us.

My heart was pounding as I forced a smile in their direction. They went back to texting and Francis purred in my direction. “Come on Andrew,” she said taking her hand and rubbing it along the nape of my neck. “Tell me what you need to do in your diaper. Be specific.”

My abdomen cramped and flipped. It was a losing battle. Fuck. I was about to lose it.

“Francis, come on.” I said quietly. “I need to poop myself okay?”

It seemed like that was all she wanted to hear because Francis smiled big and said, “Sure, I’ll help you. Just let me know when you need a change.”

My body screamed, I gasped audibly and lost complete control.

The first thing I was aware of was the fact that I didn’t feel relief right away. Instead, there was pressure in my abdomen that felt completely like my insides had hit a point of no return. There was a woozy sensation that washed over me where my brain was screaming at me, warning me that something bad was happening and I needed to find a restroom as soon as possible. Only sitting there, staring into space, I knew this wasn’t an option.

A rolling sensation hit me as I felt a rush and then intense pressure.

I felt the excrement leave my body and then felt it hit the back of my diaper as my body began the process of pushing as hard as possible. It was as if everything that was rushing into my diaper wanted out completely. I felt the mess hit the back of the diaper and then begin the process of forcing its way around the padding, filling every single nook and cranny possible.

The entire process felt like it took an eternity and my eyes were hurting. But I noticed it was because during this entire process, my eyes were closed and I had just opened them and the light was flooding my vision, causing the pain. 

I wiggled slightly under the blanket trying to get comfortable. I felt exhausted, tired and most of all, I wanted out of the diaper.

The diaper clung to my body and the mess was forced up against my skin as I sat on the couch. It felt clammy and gross as I moved around trying to get comfortable. But there was no way I was getting comfortable sitting in my body's waste. If anything, I was now motivated to get a change as soon as possible.

I cleared my throat. “Francis…” I said quietly to the women whose eyes had never left me once during their entire ordeal. “Can we go get changed now?”

Francis looked at me and grinned at me. To her credit, she looked slightly shocked. “You didn’t really…” she said smiling. “You actually?” Francis laughed quietly and then leaned forward and whispered directly into my ear. “Did you actually mess your diaper while sitting on this couch Andrew?”

I just wanted out of the diaper as soon as possible. So I nodded, fighting back the sadness and humiliation sweeping over me.

“Oh come on Andrew,” Francis purred into my ear. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

I glanced around and noticed that no one else in the room was paying attention to us. Beer pong was happening at a table nearby. Two of our friends were intently glaring at the television where the game had gotten close. Natasha and another woman were both passed out on the couch.

I mumbled out a response to Francis.

“Oh come on Andrew,” Francis said. “Use your words.”

“I pooped myself, Francis. Please. I need to change.” A tear fell down my cheek as I said it.

Francis grinned and looked me directly in the eyes. I had done what she wanted. I’d be out of this diaper soon.

But Francis giggled. “Not yet. You need to do something for me first.”

***