The sweatpants were soft against your skin, the medical diaper snug but familiar beneath them. You’d chosen the outfit carefully, comfortable, unassuming, a way to blend in until you figured out the lay of the land. Just because Obasaan required all women to be diapered didn’t mean they all embraced the “little” lifestyle. You weren’t sure if you were ready to reveal that side of yourself so soon, if ever.
As you glanced around the shuttle’s common area, the diversity of the women aboard struck you. Some had no visible diaper bulge at all, their clothing loose or tailored to conceal it. Others, like you, wore theirs discreetly beneath their clothes, noticeable only if you knew what to look for. A third group wore their diapers openly, unhidden by fabric, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then there were the littles, about ten of them, dressed in gear that left no room for doubt. One in particular caught your eye: a woman in a Bluey T-shirt, a pacifier clipped to her collar, and a diaper so babyish it made your heart flutter. Her hair was in pigtailed braids, and she bounced slightly in her seat, humming to herself.
You shifted in your own seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the crinkle beneath your sweatpants. The sight of her was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Would you ever feel comfortable being that open?
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