“So, what do you think?” Nancy asked a few minutes later, coming back down the hall with a bit of a waddle from the thick cloth diaper between her legs. I couldn’t help but giggle, looking at her like that. She had always been far prettier than me, even if she never seemed to be consciously aware of it herself, and despite being a month and a half younger, always looked more mature than me. And yet, here she was in a very babyish dress, pink ribbons standing out quite clearly against her black hair, wearing a diaper.
“Cute,” I replied simply before noticing the look she had been giving me since I started laughing, and I realized she hadn’t been finished with her question. “Sorry, go on.”
“On or off?” she finished, holding the diaper cover in front of the diaper, then pulling it away.