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Okay, so here's the thing. I'm trying to focus on this quarterly report, but all I can think about is the thick, crinkly padding wrapped around my hips. My boss insisted, no, demanded, that I wear this diaper to work today. He said it was "necessary for my development." Necessary? Really? There are nearly thirty other women here, all in their sleek skirts and tailored trousers, free to use the restroom like normal adults. But me? I have to sit here in a bulky, babyish diaper that makes a soft rustling sound every time I shift in my chair. It’s humiliating. And unfair. But… he said if I comply, it shows I’m dedicated. That I’m a good employee. And more than anything, I want to be seen as reliable and obedient. So here I am, dressed professionally from the waist up, but underneath… well. Let's just say it’s hard to feel like a competent professional when you’re wearing something meant for infants. The worst part is knowing that if nature calls… well, let's just say there won't be any trips to the ladies' room for me today. It's degrading, but also weirdly… compelling? Because even though it feels unjust, part of me craves his approval so badly that I'll endure this if it means he sees me as his good girl. What's worse is I can feel the pressure in my bladder is building, a persistent ache that’s becoming impossible to ignore. I know the rule, I am not permitted to use the bathroom. My boss was very clear about that. I haven't peed in a diaper I was a toddler, and now, as a grown woman in a professional setting, I'm expected to just… let go right here like a baby. My face flushes with heat as I imagine the inevitable warmth spreading through the padding, the potential sound it might make, and the sheer awkwardness of sitting through the rest of the afternoon in a used diaper while trying to maintain my composure during team meetings.