In fact, I was probably more embarrassed by standing there, in my living room, stark naked, than I would be at that. I knew I was alone, but it was still a strange sensation. I thought about writing a note, to at least attempt to explain to my parents, or anyone who would listen, what had really happened that night. But who would believe it?

I spread open the diaper, listening to it crinkle under my fingers, so thick and strange, so completely different from my regular – or formerly regular, I suppose – underwear. I sprinkled a bit of baby powder onto it, just in case it was part of the “outfit”, then lowered my bottom onto it. My palms started to sweat as I clumsily taped the sides up, trying to align them as best I could, which wasn’t particularly well, as it turned out. Then I grabbed the onesie, pulling it over my head, lifting my bottom long enough to slip the cloth underneath.

“Here goes nothing,” I told myself, aligning the first snap. If I had been standing, it would have been hanging well below my diaper, but I didn’t think that would matter too much. The first snap closing sounded like a gunshot, and I flinched nearly as much as I would have if that had been what it was. The second was, if it was possible, even louder.

My whle body was shaking by the time I reached the fifth, and final, snap. “Nothing’s going to happen,” I whispered, unsure whether I really believed it, or even wanted to. I squeezed my eyes shut as my fingers squeezed together the two halves of the fastener, and the sound echoed in my ears for an eternal moment, while I mentally said goodbye to myself.

But I was right, as it turned out, and nothing did happen. I could obviously tell that I didn’t feel any different, and by virtue of being able to think that, I was fairly sure that meant my mind was still intact. I slowly opened my eyes, only to be greeted by the same old living room, the diapers tossed about the only thing that made it any different than usual. I got to my feet, feeling the diaper crinkle between my legs. Other than that oddity, they felt just as steady as before. In a way, I almost felt disappointed.

I reached down for the snaps, ready to go get Nancy cleaned up, now that the test was through. I saw something else, however, hiding beneath the bag, and I picked it up curiously. It turned out to be a pacifier. As a sudden feeling of calm washed over me, I brought it up to my lips. I could feel it – this was it, the missing piece. I stopped myself short, however, that feeling of certainty and finality changing my mind about something.

I half-walked, half-waddled, to my room, fishing a notebook from my desk and grabbing a pen. Whether anyone would believe it or not, I felt like I needed to put my story down in words, before it was too late. If I didn’t, everything we’d been through that night would have been for nothing. I wrote for a long time, wanting to get every detail right, even the ones I was embarrassed to admit – after all, by the time anyone read it, I’d be beyond caring.