Cupid's Arrows - Part 1 (Patreon)

Pictures in this series property of Porn for the People, DiaperGal, and DiaperedOnline/LittleRedBottom.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I see what the problem is," the photographer shrugged. "I told you I wanted you be be Cupid, didn't I?"

"I-I mean, yeah," Astrid had to admit - that had been, basically, the entirety of the request she'd found online. "But I didn't really expect..."

The photographer rolled her eyes. "Well, what else would you wear? Cupid's outfit is pretty iconic... He's the symbol of Valentine's Day, and you really only ever see him wear one thing."

She held up the diaper, Astrid's stomach churning as she heard it crinkle. "I know..." she fidgeted uncomfortably. "That's, like, a real diaper, though. I thought it would be more like a bikini or something... H-He usually is wearing a diaper, but that's not how it looks. It's cloth, and..."

"Do you know where to find cloth diapers nowadays?" the photographer challenged.

"No..." Astrid shook her head. "But it doesn't have to be an actual diaper! You could just get some cloth, and, like, tie it on, and..."

"Oh, good," the photographer sighed dramatically. "I always love when my models tell me what my pictures do and don't need. If you don't want to do this, you're free to leave, and I can find someone else."

Astrid looked back at the diaper with a frown. This wasn't the way she'd envisioned her start in the modelling game going... She should have realized there was more to that ad than met the eye, however, when she'd gotten the job at all. She had no experience, a cheap headshot, and the photographer was someone she'd actually heard of; she'd thought the other woman saw some raw talent inside her, and wanted to nurture it, to be the one to reveal it to the world. Instead, apparently anyone who knew better had steered away, leaving the photographer to settle on a newbie.

This was supposed to be her big break, but did she really want her professional portfolio to consist, at least at the start, of her wearing a diaper?! She wanted people to see her as sexy, not some overgrown toddler, still too immature to be trusted to keep her pants dry... And if any of her friends saw it, she'd never live it down, for sure.

On the other hand... This was a real photographer. If Astrid did well for her now, she might remember her, call her back for something better... And, if she left now, refusing to even try, she probably would never hire her again, and might tell any other photographers she knew that Astrid wasn't worth taking a chance on. She could be ending her career before it had actually begun by walking out.

"Okay, fine," she gave in, reluctantly picking up the diaper, feeling the soft padding compress slightly under her fingers. This was nothing like the thongs she normally wore, if she bothered with underwear at all... But she needed to think of it as a costume, not underwear. After all, she cheered herself up slightly, she wouldn't even have to wear it like a normal diaper, since - being out on a job - she had thrown on some undies.

"I expect you don't know how to put that on," the photographer sighed, as if that was something anyone should know.

"I can figure it out," Astrid shrugged. Briefly, she'd considered pretending she did, to perhaps win some favor with the other woman, but the truth was, she had no clue, and didn't particularly want to make it seem like this was something she did often. 

"No," the photographer shook her head, snatching the diaper out of Astrid's hand. "I only have one, and I don't want you messing it up by doing it wrong. Come on, take that skirt off." Astrid blushed, hesitating long enough to see that the woman wasn't joking, then, slowly, shimmied out of her skirt. "Those, too," the photographer waved her finger at the thong. When Astrid opened her mouth to protest, she was cut off with, "I don't want any chance of it showing under the diaper and ruining the illusion."

Staring at the diaper as it was unfolded, Astrid couldn't imagine her tiny thong coming anywhere close to the edges of the massive thing, but she'd already come this far... Why stop now? She winced as her bottom sank into the cushy padding, then let out a tiny gasp of surprise as the other woman pulled the front of it up between her legs, shocked at how truly bulky it was.

"That'll do," the photographer nodded. "All right, get the rest of it off now."

"O-Okay," Astrid nodded, clumsily climbing to her feet, her thighs forced further apart than she'd anticipated. "Where's the rest of the costume?"

"Right there," the photographer pointed at the wings, and bow and arrow, that had been sitting with the diaper the whole time.

"Y-Yeah, but..." Astrid fidgeted. "Is there no... shirt? Tunic? Something?" 

The woman let out another sigh. "Don't worry, I'll make sure nothing is visible..."

Astrid was concerned about that, of course, though it was more the idea of running around in just a diaper, like a toddler playing dress-up, too young to really have to worry about staying covered up. She was in too deep now, however. She took off her shirt, and bra, and let herself be helped into the wings - which she was pretty sure 'ruined the illusion' with how cheap and silly they looked more than she could have with a slightly mis-taped diaper - and grabbed the bow, letting herself be led out, a slight waddle to her step, into the back yard.

It was unfortunate that, by the time she'd finished arguing, her bladder was already starting to feel full. She didn't want to pause the session so early to take a break, and, once the photographer got into it, she barely listened to Astrid at all, she was so busy giving her orders, and snapping at her to stay still.

She didn't want to have an accident, obviously... This was the only diaper, after all, and if she used it, that either meant the shoot would end, and she'd get in trouble for ruining the wardrobe, or the photographer would keep going, taking lots of lots of visual evidence of what Astrid had done, ensuring the girl really wouldn't want that in her portfolio. But every attempt to get the photographer's attention, to put a temporary stop to what was going on, was ignored, and it was getting harder and harder to stop squirming, as she was told over and over to do, until, at last, she glanced down in shock as she realized it was too late...