(Fem)Shepard's Diapered Adventures

Commander Shepard, Captain of the Normandy, Saviour of the Citadel, the first human Spectre, and many other things sat curled up on her bed. Nerves and embarrassment colored her freckled cheeks the same shade as her fiery red hair. She was half-naked.

A black undershirt covered her top, stretching down the length of her toned body to meet the mass of plastic and padding that protected her modesty. There was no mistaking what it was. The great Commander Shepard wearing a diaper.

She scrutinized it with disdain and desire, surrounded by the faint aroma of space-age baby powder, as she prodded at it with her hands and pressed at it with her legs. Crinkle. Rustle. Crinkle. The noise fills the room.

She knew why she was wearing them, but she couldn't explain why. She couldn't explain the force that compelled her to browse the extranet, the desire in her brain that made her want the padding that was wrapped around her waist. The one that made a battle-hardened soldier long for a garment she should've long outgrown.

It made her do other things, too, as she brought up her omni-tool.