Breakfast

Nurse Lilly, with a tray of oatmeal in one hand and a clean diaper in the other, led me out of the room and down the hallway. I followed her, my face still burning with shame, as she chatted away about the hotel's amenities. I barely heard a word she said, my mind still reeling from the humiliation of what had just happened.

As we entered the cafeteria, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at being in a public space. Surely, I thought, there was no way they could make me wear a diaper here.

As we entered the cafeteria, I was immediately struck by the sheer number of adults dressed in diapers, all sitting at tables and eating their breakfasts with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The room was filled with the sound of clinking utensils and muted chatter, and the air was thick with the smell of oatmeal and fresh laundry. I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment as Nurse Lilly led me to a table, where a high chair sat waiting for me.

I hesitated, unsure of what to do, as Nurse Lilly began to expertly strap me into the high chair, my diaper-clad bottom settling into the seat with a soft squelch.