This choice: Throw on some extra-stretchy pants and get moving (or waddling) • Go Back...Chapter #8Dinner Duties by: Crocko   With lots of huffing and awkward waddling, you finally make your way to your closet. Pulling the door open, you appraise your wide selection of clothes briefly before your eyes settle on the only logical choice for your pants - an extremely stretchy and durable pair of sweatpants, something you recall purchasing for the exact purpose of containing and concealing your thicker diapers. Getting them on is a needlessly tough struggle that pushes your back-bulge around into all kinds of places, but finally, you pull the waistband up over your padding's waist gains and let it snap into place with a satisfied huff. The elastic fabric compresses your undergarment tightly, leaving you feeling very snug amongst your mess. Make no mistake, it's still absolutely obvious that you've got a diaper the size of an exercise ball wrapped around your lower half, but considering you've managed to bring it up to your knees after it was sagging almost to your ankles, you're satisfied nevertheless.
A petite bra and a loose t-shirt replace your pyjama shirt, and with that, you're ready to tackle the day - or, at least, you're ready to waddle around the house a little. The stairs still present an interesting challenge as you make your way down them, but the feeling of your huge, cosy load mushing up against you with every step - not to mention the audible squishing and crinkling noises - is enough encouragement to keep you moving. In short order, you arrive in the kitchen, meeting your mom as she stirs a bowl of something you can't quite see. She looks a lot like you, except about twenty years older, and she's sporting a practical blouse and knee-length skirt covered by an apron. She bends over in order to add a minute amount of some seasoning to whatever she's preparing, causing the subtle, but still-obvious outline of her padding to appear against the back of her skirt.
"Hi, Kel, can you-- oh, my goodness..." she starts as she turns to greet you, trailing off as her eyes instantly snap to the obscenely large diaper bulge straining against your pants. "Couldn't you have changed first?" she continues, giving you a look of both exasperation and sheer surprise - she's no stranger to the size of your loads, but this one is an outlier, even for yourself.
"I kinda woke up like this, mom," you lie seamlessly, giving her a self-assured smile as you pull up the waist of your sweatpants slightly. "I didn't wanna keep you waiting. I'd need a shower for something this big, right?"
"Alright, fine," your mom sighs, rolling her eyes. "But you're definitely getting a change after dinner, Kel. Or-- I guess it'd be breakfast for you, hm?" She smirks at you sarcastically and folds her arms, and you shrug plaintively in response - you can't really deny that you've been sleeping way too late recently. With the pleasantries out of the way, she hands you the large wooden spoon she was using to stir whatever she's cooking. "Keep an eye on the stew for me, alright? Just give it a stir if it starts to boil."
It's an easy job - too easy, in fact. You stand with your eyes on the pot of stew, legs spread to give your gigantic diaper a little room, and dutifully stir. Your free hand finds it way into your pocket as boredom starts to creep in-- hold on, what's this? Your claws close around a small capsule buried deep within the confines of your pocket. You don't need to pull it out to know what you've found - it's a spare X-LAX. You remember setting it aside the last time you wore these pants, intending to use it once you had some privacy - you must've forgotten, though, and now you're presented with an opportunity, you realise as your eyes drift to the two bowls your mom set out for the stew. You're sorely tempted to add even more mass to your over-stretched diaper before you're forced to change, but... maybe your mom could do with feeling how nice a huge, laxative-induced load feels?
"Alright, Kel, dish it out for me, please," she chimes in from the dining room. You cast a glance back to see her setting the table out, leaving you in relative privacy for your scheme. The question remains, though - will it be your diaper that ends up a few pounds heavier, or hers?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Crocko (UN: crocko at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Megamatt215 has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author