The Corset, the Diaper, and the Dreaded Tea
“So, didn’t I provide you with excellent armor? It’s firmly supporting you from the inside, so stop worrying about accidents and drink without a care in the world.”
All the preparations were finished. The figure staring back from the full-length mirror was flawless. My hair had been twisted into an intricate updo, and the fresh pale-pink dress made me look like the very goddess of spring. The corset had crushed my waist into an ant-like sliver while my breasts swelled upward in a dizzying display of cleavage. To any outside observer I was the kingdom’s unblemished flower—noble, elegant, and utterly refined: Princess Celestia.
The woman in the mirror met my gaze with languid eyes. Every breath I drew sent the soft, pale flesh of my chest rising precariously against the corset’s edge. My soul was that of a man, yet the shell belonged to the continent’s greatest beauty. The luxurious scent of roses drifting from my slender neck tickled my nose. I lifted a hand to my cheek; the skin was smooth, utterly devoid of calluses. The delicate texture beneath my fingertips made my flesh crawl.
I was trapped inside this small, fragile body. The soul of a twenty-year-old mercenary who had swung a sword his entire life had been stuffed into this godforsaken silk dress. But the reality hidden beneath the gown was far more miserable.
Rustle.
With every step the unpleasant friction sounded between my thighs. A thick, heavy, alien weight. A fat pad of pure-white cloth sealed my groin completely. It was a diaper—not some dainty undergarment, but a garment engineered to contain the entire lower half of a grown adult. From the cleft of my backside to the curve of my belly, it felt like a heavy sack of cotton had been rammed into place. Every brush of my thighs produced another loud rustle that assaulted my ears.
A woman’s body was far more sensitive than a man’s. Each time the stiff fabric grazed the tender skin of my groin, the hairs on my neck stood on end. A strange heat seemed trapped inside the padding as well. The stifling lack of ventilation ruled my lower body. It was enough to drive anyone insane. Above, the corset crushed my organs; below, the thick cloth squeezed my legs together. Every shift of the plush material against my hypersensitive flesh raised fresh goosebumps.
A grown man of twenty, walking around in a diaper and taking mincing steps. Fuck. Do I really have to live like this?
I wanted to smash the mirror, but even lifting my arm felt impossible. The heavy decorations on the dress weighed down my shoulders, and the corset squeezed my ribs as if it meant to snap them. The slightest deep breath sent a tearing pain through my solar plexus. I wanted to bite my tongue in shame, but the memory of the king’s threat to behead me forced the impulse down. For a brief second I even wondered if losing my head might be preferable—until the heavy, alien bulk between my legs scattered the thought.
Trembling, I forced my legs to steady and entered the drawing room. All along the corridor the maids bowed, whispering how graceful I looked. Yet inside my skull there was only one sound.
Rustle.
The noise my thighs made with every step. Would the maids hear it? Would they notice how grotesquely padded my backside had become beneath the dress? My heart hammered like a war drum.
In the center of the drawing room an extravagant table had been laid for tea time. From one corner came the savage sounds of an animal ripping into prey.
“Munch munch! Gulp! Kyaa! Sir Knight! I mean, Princess! This meat is seriously delicious!”
It was the real Celestia, now occupying my original body. The moment the drawing-room door opened, the thick smell of roasted meat slammed into me. The space that should have been filled with the refined fragrance of tea leaves had been transformed into a barbarian bandit’s den.
She had crammed her massive frame onto the sofa, both hands clutching an enormous turkey leg and a smoked sausage, tearing into them with wild abandon. My own bearded, bandit-like face was smeared with grease, grinning like an idiot. The way she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand made her look exactly like a mountain orc.
My original body had been a towering giant. The thick, muscle-corded forearms swept across the tabletop. The scarred, menacing face now flushed with excitement and sparkling eyes created a truly bizarre sight.
“This body is so weird! I’m starving even when I’m sitting still, and the meat just melts in my mouth! No matter how much I eat, I never feel full!”
The real princess kept talking even while chewing a mouthful of meat. The crunch of bones being gnawed echoed through the room. On the table a mountain of chicken bones and empty plates had already formed. She grabbed another sausage with my rough, callused hand.
My body was a muscular man with a raging metabolism. To a sheltered princess who had lived on birdseed portions her whole life, this insane appetite must have felt like an entirely new world.
“Eat slower, damn it! Don’t gorge yourself like a starving beast with my face!”
I shrieked the words, but Celestia was already lost in meat-induced ecstasy and paid no attention. My voice came out far too thin and shrill; even my own ears ached at the sound. I wanted to roar in fury, yet the corset crushed my lungs and cut my breath short. The moment I raised my voice my ribs screamed, my lower belly tightened, and the diaper clenched even harder around my thighs.
Watching someone else treat my body so carelessly made my blood boil. At that moment Margareta pushed my back, forcing me into the seat of honor. Her touch was cold and merciless. The grip on my shoulder was stronger than I expected. The instant my backside touched the soft chair, the thick padding beneath me compressed, sending a horrible wave of pressure upward. I froze in an awkward pose, unable to spread or close my legs properly.
“A royal guard consumes a great deal of stamina, so one must eat heartily. Leave the knight be and focus on your own meal, Princess.”
A plate was set before me as well. An ornate gold-rimmed dish. On it lay exactly half a pink macaron no larger than my thumb and a single paper-thin cucumber sandwich. The plate was bigger than my face, yet the food looked like dust. My stomach burned from having eaten nothing since morning. Saliva flooded my mouth. My soul screamed to lunge across the table and rip into that turkey leg.
“Is this… all?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Margareta gave a indifferent nod. “With the corset tightened to that degree, did you honestly believe there would be room left in your stomach? If you force anything more down, you’ll simply vomit in the middle of the tea party.”
I had no rebuttal. Even breathing was difficult; my solar plexus throbbed. In truth the corset felt as if it had sealed the entrance to my stomach shut. Even on an empty belly I felt ready to retch. The bizarre sensation of being both starving and bloated at once—this was daily life for the kingdom’s greatest beauty.
Resigned, I slipped the half-macaron into my mouth. It melted without needing to be chewed, its cloying sweetness only aggravating my hunger. The sugar dissolved on my tongue in an instant, then perversely ignited my appetite even further. I swallowed hard. My fingers shook. Watching my own massive body crunch through bones on the opposite side of the table made my stomach twist with envy. My mouth chewed macaron crumbs while my real body tore into meat dripping with juices. Seeing my former face snarling like a beast as it stripped bones clean filled me with a strange sense of loss.
“Now that the meal is finished, we shall begin practical tea-party etiquette training.”
Margareta rapped the table sharply with her fan and slid a steaming teacup in front of me.
“This is black tea. We will practice holding the cup gracefully, smiling elegantly, and taking a sip.”
My heart plummeted. It felt as if both sight and smell had been paralyzed at once. White steam rose from the porcelain. The bittersweet, fragrant aroma of black tea spread through the air. Any other time I might have enjoyed it, but right now it was a death sentence.
The gently rippling crimson liquid. The warm vapor. The mere sight of it sent a terrible vibration through my lower belly. The vivid memory from barely an hour earlier—losing control and wetting myself on the floor—slammed into my mind. A woman’s body was utterly foreign. The length of the urethra was different. The sensation of a filling bladder was different. By the time I realized the signal had come, it was already too late. The humiliating feeling of hot liquid pouring uncontrollably down my thighs and soaking the inside of the dress still haunted every nerve.
“I—I won’t drink it.”
I recoiled and pushed the teacup away. It was liquid. If I drank it my bladder would fill again, and I might lose control once more. The thick diaper I wore was a constant, horrible reminder of that fact. The fingertips pushing the cup trembled visibly.
Clink.
The cup rattled against the saucer with a sharp sound. My gaze remained glued to the red surface of the tea, unable to tear away. Just imagining that liquid entering my body made the muscles in my groin twitch on their own.
“Refusing tea at a tea party is an insult to the host. You must at least wet your lips and empty more than half the cup, even if by force.”
Margareta’s eyes grew icy. She would not yield an inch. The gaze looking down at me from her rigid posture contained not a trace of sympathy. It was the look of a trainer facing an insufficiently trained animal.
“B-but… what if I have another… another accident like before!”
My face burned scarlet. I squeezed the words out, trying to contain my shame, but Margareta didn’t even blink. My voice cracked. Simply uttering the word “accident” from my own mouth felt like torture. The same man who had once stood ambush on mercenary missions, who had bathed in enemy blood and taken heads on the battlefield, was now begging not to drink tea because he was afraid of wetting himself.
“So, didn’t I provide you with excellent armor? It’s firmly supporting you from the inside, so stop worrying about accidents and drink without a care in the world.”