🏹 Simon's holidays
Part 3: At Burger King
⚠️ This is a work of fiction
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We enter Burger King and head straight to a self-ordering kiosk. My dad makes his choices, and then it's my turn. He pays for the meal, and we take a numbered stand before finding a table.
"Stand up," my dad instructs as I'm about to sit down.
He sits, and I wonder why he's telling me to remain standing until I see him tearing open the package of diapers.
"I'll give you a diaper, and you're going to the restroom to put it on," he says.
"You want me to put on a diaper right now?" I whisper in disbelief.
"We have a registration appointment at the daycare later. You need to start playing your part."
"But what if someone checks if I'm wearing one?"
"I don't know, but just in case, put one on. Would you prefer to do it in the car later, in front of me?"
"No..."
"Then go to the restroom and put it on. Do you need help?"
"I'm not a baby, I can handle it."
I'm not a baby, but here I am about to put on a diaper. The irony isn't lost on me. Babies usually wear diapers, and here I am, a kid, about to do the same.
Thinking about my gaming console helps me muster the courage. So, I discreetly take the diaper he hands me and tuck it under my sweatshirt to hide it for the journey. From the brief glimpse I had, it looks quite large.
I head toward the restroom and lock the door, double-checking that no one can walk in. I take the diaper in my hands and examine it. In a strange way, it resembles boxer briefs or maybe underwear, but it's noticeably thicker.
Well, I can't spend the whole day here; I don't want to eat a cold burger. I try to remove my jeans without taking off my shoes, but it's impossible. I take off my shoes, then my jeans. I lower my underwear and place it on the sink.
Now, I'm naked from the waist down. I look at myself, feeling ridiculous even at this point, and I can't help but imagine what comes next.
My dad explained what puberty is, and some of my friends have already started going through it, but not me. I'm also not very tall; I'm one of the smallest kids in my school. I really hope I'll catch up in height.
I pick up the diaper again and begin to unwrap it. I slip one foot inside, then the other. I pull the diaper up my legs and into place.
It's pretty bizarre to have this diaper on. I have to admit it's quite comfortable and pleasant to wear, which surprises me. However, it's a bit too large, and I notice that much older kids could probably wear it too.
What I didn't expect at all is how thick the diaper is – both in the front and back, and especially in the crotch area.
A look in the mirror in front of me reflects an image that doesn't belong to me. I don't understand who this little boy, maybe around 7 years old, wearing a diaper, could be.
"Console, console, console," I repeat to myself to muster courage.
I need to hurry because someone is trying to enter the restroom. Thankfully, the door is locked. I grab my underwear, slip it on over the diaper, and pull it up. Then, I do the same with my jeans, but that's when the problems start. The diaper is too bulky, and my jeans won't go up.
After some tugging, I manage to get them up, but I can't fully close the zipper, let alone fasten the button.
I put my shoes back on as someone is attempting to open the door again. I have to get out; I'll figure it out with my dad.
In less than a minute, I unlock the door after adjusting my sweatshirt to cover the open top of my jeans.
When I return to the table, my dad is already seated, and a server is setting our order down.
Those few steps from the restroom feel strange, or rather, it's the diaper that makes my steps feel strange. I'm walking differently, with a bit of a gap between my legs.
"I have a problem," I tell my dad, coming to a halt in front of him.
"Because of your diaper?" he asks, looking at my pants.
"Yeah, it's too big, and I can't close my jeans."
"True, your jeans are pretty tight. Let's eat while it's hot, and we'll figure it out later."
"But I can take it off."
"No, Simon, eat, we'll decide later."
I eat my burger and fries with little enjoyment. The diaper I'm wearing is uncomfortable, and I can feel it between my legs. I really don't like it.
I finish quickly, but my dad takes his time. It's only after about 10 minutes that he finishes his meal.
"Show me," he says.
"Here?"
"Yes, stand up and lift your sweatshirt slightly."
I do as he asks, and he signals me to come closer. He tries to pull up the zipper, but it won't budge.
"You see," I say, "it won't go up."
"Indeed, and I can only see one solution."
"Remove it?" I ask.
"No, change your pants. Diapers don't go well with jeans. We'll go get you some sweatpants. You'll be much more comfortable in them."
"Can we go home instead? I have some jeans that are a bit wider."
"We don't really have time for that. We need to leave for our appointment in 15 minutes. Follow me; we'll go to Kiabi. They have a store in the shopping mall."
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