They were only a few steps from the car now. The lot was in sight—empty, quiet, with the mid-morning sun casting long shadows across the pavement. But every step felt like a battle for Jennifer.
Her thighs burned from the strain. Her back ached under the massive weight of her belly. The diaper between her legs shifted with each step, squishy from earlier… and then, suddenly, it wasn’t just wet. It was wet again.
Her breath caught. A wave of warmth bloomed between her legs.
“No, not now,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as her bladder gave out for the second time that morning. It didn’t even feel like a choice—just a release. Her swollen abdomen pushed against every organ, every muscle, and now, it felt like her body was more machine than her own.
Maya didn’t stop walking, but she glanced over when Jennifer staggered a little.
“You okay?” she asked gently.
Jennifer nodded stiffly, keeping her eyes forward. “It happened again.”
Maya pressed her lips together. “Don’t worry. The car’s right there. No one’s looking.”
That was a lie.
People were looking. A pair of teenage girls across the street had stopped mid-conversation, staring openly. A guy on a bike slowed, doing a full double take. Jennifer knew what they saw: a visibly pregnant woman waddling through the street in nothing but a diaper and oversized maternity joggers, her heavy breasts barely shielded by crossed arms, face red with shame.
She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide.
And worse—her mind started drifting.
She glanced at Maya beside her, still half-wrapped in the patio umbrella, tall and lean, legs toned, stomach flat, breasts light enough to barely bounce as she walked. Maya’s body moved like it belonged to her. Easy. Effortless.
Jennifer’s felt like a costume—one she’d been stuffed into and left to bloat in.
She felt the sharp twist of jealousy then—unexpected, unwelcome.
It wasn’t Maya’s fault. Maya had been there. Supportive. Kind. But Jennifer couldn’t help it. Her own body felt like a prison. Maya’s looked like freedom.
And still, she waddled forward, her diaper now squishing with each slow step, her belly leading the way like a burden that wouldn’t let up.
They reached the car. Maya unlocked it fast and opened the door.
Jennifer hesitated before climbing in. “I can’t sit like this.”
Maya helped her slowly, guiding her down into the seat, adjusting it back so her belly would fit. The diaper made it awkward, the plastic pressing up between her thighs, but she didn’t complain.
Once the door shut, Jennifer exhaled shakily and turned to Maya.
“We find her again,” she said, voice low. “We make her fix this.”
Maya nodded. “We will.”
But even as they pulled away from the curb, Jennifer could still feel the looks. The shame. The heaviness.
And the slow, creeping fear that she might be running out of time.