The moment the girl from your grade stepped into the nurse’s office, your stomach twisted into knots. She knew you. And worse, she was smirking.
"Uh oh," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Looks like someone had an accident."
Your face burned. "It wasn’t, I didn’t!"
Ms. Evans shushed you gently, bouncing you in her arms like an actual baby. "Now, now, Mikey. No fussing. Let’s get you changed."
The hot redhead nurse, Carol, patted the changing table. "Go ahead and lay him down. I’ll grab the wipes."
You thrashed harder, but Ms. Evans was stronger than she looked. With practiced ease, she laid you on the padded table, her hands pressing lightly on your chest to keep you still. The vinyl surface was cold against your back, making you shiver, as you were mortified to be handled like this by two hot women, also in front of someone you knew!
The girl from your class leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching with undisguised glee. "So, Michael," she drawled, "didn’t know you were still in diapers."
"I’m not!" you snapped, but your voice cracked pathetically.
Ms. Evans tutted. "Sweetheart, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Even big kids have accidents sometimes." You wanted to scream. Big kids?! You were seventeen!
Carol returned with a pack of baby wipes and a fresh diaper, white, thick, and humiliatingly babyish. She set them beside the table before peeling off your damp pants, leaving you in nothing but your soaked underwear. The cool air of the nurse’s office hit your skin, making you squirm.
The girl from your class giggled. "Aww, look at his little legs!"
You clenched your fists, humiliation boiling in your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Ms. Evans pulled your underwear down, and you instinctively tried to curl up, but she held you firmly in place. "Shhh, it’s okay," she murmured. "Just relax." The first wipe was freezing, and you flinched as Carol dragged it across your thighs. The sensation was awful, clinical and infantilizing, and as she cleaned you with the same detached efficiency as a mother changing a toddler.
The girl from your class whistled. "Wow. He’s really red. You okay down there, Mikey?"
You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear.
Carol tossed the used wipe away and reached for the diaper, unfolding it with a crinkle that made your stomach churn. "Alright, lift up a bit," she instructed, nudging your hips. You didn’t move, as you were still burning with shame.
Ms. Evans sighed. "Mikey, please cooperate."
You gritted your teeth. "I don’t need a diaper!"
Carol raised an eyebrow. "You just wet yourself, honey!"
The girl from your class snorted. "Yeah, sounds like you definitely need one."
Ms. Evans gave you a sympathetic look. "Sweetie, we’re just trying to help."
Before you could argue further, she lifted your hips herself, sliding the diaper underneath you. The padding was thick and suffocating, pressing against your skin in a way that made your humiliation complete.
Carol pulled the front up between your legs, fastening the tapes snugly at your hips. The crinkle was deafening in the quiet room.
"There," Carol said, patting your padded waist. "All clean."
The girl from your class grinned. "And adorable."
Ms. Evans helped you sit up, but you didn’t even have a second to process before she was tugging the onesie over your head. The soft fabric enveloped you, the snaps at the crotch sealing your fate. You were dressed like a baby. The girl pulled out her phone. "This is too good."
Your blood ran cold. "D-don’t you dare!"
Ms. Evans intercepted, gently pushing the phone down. "Now, now. Let’s not tease him." The girl pouted but pocketed her phone, for now.
Ms. Evans scooped you up again, settling you on her hip like a toddler. "Alright, Mikey. Let’s get you to class." Your stomach dropped. Class?! Like this?! But before you could protest, the bell rang, and the halls outside the nurse’s office erupted with noise. Students laughing, lockers slamming, the buzz of morning chatter. And you were about to be carried through all of it, diapered, onesie-clad, and utterly helpless.
Do you try to come up with an excuse to let Ms. Evans not make you go to class?
Or do you bite your tongue and endure the walk of shame, praying no one else recognizes you?
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