There's Still Half a Cup Left, Your Highness
“There is still half a cup left, Your Highness.” Her gaze flicked downward, sliding beneath the hem of my dress toward my groin. It felt like every blood vessel in my head was about to rupture. The spot her eyes touched seemed to ignite, burning hot.
The dress’s voluminous skirts kept it hidden from view, but Margareta and I both knew exactly what was nestled there. The devilish logic that, since I was already wearing a diaper, I should simply drink the tea without worry—whether I wet myself or not. Are you fucking insane? What am I, some kind of animal? You want me to just piss myself because I’ve got a diaper on?!
I nearly shot up from my seat without thinking. But the corset’s merciless squeeze only let me lift my hips halfway before I collapsed back down with a thud. Rustle. Squish. That damned diaper crushed my ass and crotch once more, loudly reminding me of its presence.
My breathing grew ragged with rage, making the two enormous mounds of flesh on my chest—cleavage fully exposed—heave up and down. “Lower your voice, Your Highness. Decorum.”
Tap! The fan struck the back of my hand. Margareta forcibly pried my fingers open and wrapped them around the teacup handle, locking my pinky out in that ridiculous, elegant pose while my thumb and index finger held it just so. The back of my hand stung as if it were on fire. Her iron grip bent my slender, pale fingers like they were made of putty, offering no resistance whatsoever. The heat from the cup seeped into my fingertips. It was scalding. That warmth only amplified my growing panic.
“Drink. Corners of the mouth lifted. Eyes gently fixed on your counterpart.”
With trembling hands, I brought the teacup to my lips. I wanted to refuse, but it felt like the blade of a guillotine was brushing the nape of my neck. I couldn’t throw it aside. My arm muscles refused to obey. The black tea inside sloshed violently. Every ripple across its surface shook what little sanity I had left.
The porcelain felt sickeningly smooth against my lips. Warm tea wet them, then slid down my throat. The fragrant rose aroma filled my mouth, but to me it might as well have been deadly poison. Gulp. The sensation of hot liquid traveling down my smooth, Adam’s-apple-free neck was far too vivid. The tea forced its way through my corset-constricted esophagus. The warmth that reached my stomach spread throughout my body.
The instant the warm liquid hit my stomach, I was struck by the horrifying illusion that my lower belly was contracting sharply. Oh god. I’m actually losing my mind. It couldn’t have reached my bladder yet, but my brain was already paralyzed with terror. A heavy spasm seemed to twist in my abdomen. Without realizing it, I clenched my thighs together tightly.
Far from feeling reassured by the diaper, that thick, bulky sensation was instead madly stimulating my bladder. Like a conditioned reflex, the insides of my thighs began to quiver. The harder I pressed my legs together, the more forcefully the thick fabric squeezed my crotch. The greater the area of contact, the more my shame swelled in proportion.
The fact that I was wearing a diaper right now. The terror that I might lose control at any second and disgrace myself inside it. All of it twisted together, strangling me.
“Smile naturally. Do not scrunch your face like a criminal who has just swallowed poison.”
I forced the corners of my mouth upward. The muscles in my cheeks trembled violently. With every sip of tea I swallowed, it felt like my pride was melting and sliding down my throat. My smiling lips convulsed. My eyelashes fluttered. Anyone seeing my expression right now would think they were looking at a pitiful beauty on the verge of tears. But inside, I had already been ripped to bloody shreds long ago.
“Slurrrrp! Kyaah! Head maid! This tea is fantastic! Give me another cup!”
The crude noise from across the table finally snapped the last thread of my sanity. The real princess was gripping my teacup like a soup bowl with my original body and downing the tea in one massive gulp. She smacked her lips, then roughly wiped the tea from my beard with her sleeve in the most barbaric manner imaginable. She had poured the scalding liquid straight down her throat without even cooling it. My thick Adam’s apple bobbed dramatically. The teacup looked like a child’s toy in those hands. Red tea dripped from the corner of my mouth, soaking the beard, and she simply scrubbed it away with a coarse leather sleeve. She even let out a small burp. It was more vulgar than anything I’d seen from back-alley mercenaries.
“Hey, you crazy— what the hell are you doing?!” I shrieked, bolting upright. This time I ignored the corset’s agony and planted my feet firmly. The chair scraped backward across the floor. My voice cracked into a high-pitched scream of pure fury.
The heavy diaper around my crotch brushed against my thighs with the sudden movement, once again searing my current reality into my mind. The momentum of standing drove the thick wad of cotton deep between my legs. That horrible sensation of a heavy, squishy mass completely filling the space between my buttocks. The blood that had been boiling with rage instantly turned to ice. The alien feeling between my thighs made it impossible to even stand properly.
“Hmm? Why, Your Highness? I’m a battle-hardened manly knight, aren’t I? Isn’t this how rough mercenary knights are supposed to eat—with wild abandon?”
The real princess stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. It was utterly horrifying that my rugged face could produce such a pure, guileless expression. Those sparkling, beast-like eyes. The way those muscular shoulders shrugged assaulted my optic nerves. She wasn’t technically wrong. During my mercenary days, I used to chug from waterskins and spill half of it down my front as a matter of course. But seeing the noble princess’s soul doing it with my face only made her look like the village idiot. When I had done it, it was the wild charm of a man. When she did it, it was the behavior of a brainless monster.
My precious body. The muscles and scars I had spent my entire life forging.
“Sir Knight. Please restrain yourself. You are not a beast. …Not to that extent…”
Even Margareta pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a deep sigh. Fatigue was etched deeply into the face of the head maid who usually wore an iron mask. Her gaze flicked back and forth between my original body and my current one. It was a hopeless situation.
My legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the sofa with a thud. I no longer had the strength to stay angry. The moment my rear touched the soft cushions, another rustle sounded. Even that noise seemed to be mocking me now.
I hung my head. The hair cascading down covered my vision. Over there, my body was tearing into a mountain of meat and chugging tea by the bowlful, while my soul was trapped inside this corset prison, nibbling on macarons the size of bird feed, wearing a diaper, and practicing smiling while every sip of tea tightened my bladder like a vice.
A stark contrast. Poverty amid plenty. Freedom and bondage. I had not only lost my body, but my dignity as a human being as well.
Every time I panted for breath under the corset’s crushing pressure, my breasts jiggled. Regardless of my will, this female body continued dragging me down into the abyss. Is this what living is? Fuck.
The corners of my eyes grew hot. Not from sadness, but from the despair of seeing no way out of this insane situation. I bit my lip hard, terrified the tears clinging to my eyelashes would spill down my cheeks. The rustling alien sensation between my legs scraped at my nerves again. Terrified that drinking the tea would make me actually need the bathroom, I tensed my lower abdomen. The more I tensed, the more sensitively my bladder reacted. The diaper’s soft, cushiony texture endlessly stimulated the shame inside me.
I wished I could just faint. But the corset held my spine rigidly upright, denying me even that escape. The room began to spin. One and a half months until the academy term began. It felt like I would wither and die in this hellish tea-party training long before I ever reached the Empire’s academy.
The lessons I would have to endure flashed before my eyes like a panorama. Dancing. Social etiquette. Smiling. Makeup. And this horrific armor I would be forced to wear every single day. My breath caught in my throat. The clear sky outside the window felt like an enormous cage imprisoning me.
The warmth of the tea still lingered in my stomach. Even that small amount of heat felt like unbearable torture now. Every time the illusion of my lower belly growing stiff hit me, I pressed my thighs together until there wasn’t a single gap between them. The thick fabric rubbed vividly against the sweat-slicked skin of my inner thighs.
Margareta held the silver teapot out to me once more. Glug. With a clear sound, the red liquid refilled the half-empty cup, making the surface ripple again.
“There is still half a cup left, Your Highness.” Her voice held not the slightest trace of mercy.
I felt like I was going mad. Pouring more liquid into a bladder that was already screaming it had reached its limit? I had no strength left to rebel. I simply stared blankly down at the teacup. With every shallow breath, the corset’s rigid bones dug into my ribs.
“Whoa! Head maid, pour me some more too! I finished this meat pie!”
The deep, resonant sound of my own voice coming from across the table felt especially resentful today. The constant munch munch of chewing. The rough clatter of plates. My original body showed no signs of fatigue, endlessly radiating beast-like vitality.
Meanwhile, I was being utterly crushed inside this frail female shell.
Rustle. Every tiny shift of my hips driven by anxiety made the heavy cotton mass in my groin stubbornly assert its existence.
There was no escape. The thick diaper that sealed my lower body completely, the corset that squeezed my guts, and this damned teatime that suffocated me. This was the miserable reality I would have to endure from now on.
Completely resigned, I lifted the hot teacup once more, gripping it with both hands that would not stop trembling.