From Superstar to Baby Girl! Taylor's Story (Patreon)

The crowd cheered as Taylor’s name was announced.

She should’ve felt excited. Her tour had sold out. Her movie was a complete success. She was on top of the world.

And yet, she felt as if her entire life was crumbling down under the weight of her own wet diaper. Why would this thirty-three-year-old pop star be wearing a diaper? Taylor asked herself as she walked to the stage, hoping her clothes would be enough to cover her shame. Hoping there would be no leaks or messy accidents. At least not until her Mommy… her assistant could change her. Until she was sound and safe back home, where no one could shame her for her potty accidents.

She breathed deeply.

The crowd cheered her name again, and she smiled at them even if she didn’t feel like smiling. She looked backstage at Emma, who was standing with her diaper bag, waiting for Taylor to be done.

Showtime.

Chapter 1

Taylor’s Secret Problem

Taylor walked the floors of her home restlessly.

It was late already, and Emma was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t just keep living like this. All the luxuries and privileges of her lifestyle paled in comparison to her anxiety. She was meant to be perfect. No flaws or mistakes, or no one would ever stop talking about it. It was okay. It was the life she chose. The life of a superstar. She would have to travel very deep into the darkest corners of the world to not be recognized.

Yet, that very morning, she couldn’t help but feel as if her entire world was crumbling down. And her assistant was nowhere to be found. Why was she paying her? It wasn’t out of charity. Emma was supposed to be the best of the best. Granted, she lacked experience, being almost ten years younger than Taylor herself. But her dominant personality and bossy nature meant she was reliable enough to get things done.

“I’m back!” she heard the familiar voice of her assistant.

Taylor was tall, thin, and blonde. Whereas Emma was fit, broader with bigger boobs and red hair. They seemed completely different, and in more than one way, they were. Emma, at such a young age, was already a thousand times more mature than her superstar boss. It wasn’t just the fact that Taylor couldn’t maintain a healthy relationship for more than a few months. It wasn’t even the fact that Taylor was a spoilt dive. No. It was Taylor’s proclivity to break down whenever life was hard. Although she had created the illusion to her fans that she was strong and independent, it couldn’t be further from the truth.

And Emma knew it.

“Where were you?! I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Look,” said Emma, pausing, leaving a few bags on the floor, “It’s not every day I get a request like yours.”

Taylor blushed, “Did you ask her?”

Emma nodded.

“So?”

“My aunt says it’s normal when someone is stressed. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her I was talking about you. But with the tour and the new album and everything. Well, it just feels like it might be too much. Maybe you need to stop for a time. Rest.”

“Too much? I’ve been doing this for half my life. I love my work. The,” Taylor paused for a second, feeling as if pronouncing the word would make it worse, “Bedwetting…Cannot. It just cannot be related to my career. She must help. She’s an expert on the topic, isn’t she?”

“She is. But I think it doesn’t help much if you aren’t talking with her directly. No one will know. There’s doctor-patient confidentiality, right? You can still keep it a secret while she helps you.”

Taylor sat.

She had feared her recent bedwetting problems were caused due to stress, and if that was the case, she couldn’t go on tour. Not until she had dealt with her wetting issue. Tabloids would have a feast if they knew she had wet some five-start hotel bed every night. And if she did go to Emma’s aunt’s office, would people find out? She was a lauded specialist on the topic. They would put two and two together. They would find out she was having potty problems.

“I don’t know,” said Taylor, fighting back tears of frustration.

Emma couldn't help but notice the unmistakable signs of distress on Taylor's face despite her attempt to maintain an air of confidence. She had always thought Taylor wasn’t the independent, strong woman she claimed to be. And for the most part, she’d been right. Needy would be a better word to describe her. Childish also came to mind.

"She did offer a solution," said Emma, “At least one that can prevent further damage to your bed.”

Taylor didn't answer.

She knew what Emma referred to, and there was no way she would accept. It was already bad enough that at her age, she was having such an immature problem, but she wasn’t going to wear diapers to bed.

“Look. It’s just at night. I’ll buy them. No one will know they are for you. And that way, you can keep going on tour. It’s not like you’re having problems during the day, too, right?”

“No. Never!” said Taylor, “I only wet the bed.”

She blushed at her own words. Only wetting the bed was nothing to be proud of.

Emma chuckled.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Taylor said with tears in her eyes, “It’s not my fault. I can’t help it.”

Getting closer to her boss, Emma couldn’t help but think that even if Taylor was indeed older and, supposedly, more mature, she didn’t have it took to deal with the real world’s problems. In many ways, she seemed like a child lost in the dark, looking for some guidance. Maybe that’s why Emma took the job. Not because of the glamorous life Taylor led. But because of the superstar’s true nature – the one she kept fighting.

“It’s gonna be okay,” said Emma, smiling at her boss, “We’ll figure it out. No one will find out. I promise.”

Taylor blushed again. This time, however, she felt her assistant’s words resonating inside of her. Maybe she could keep diapers a try. But only if they worked.

She looked up directly at Emma’s eyes, “What should I do?”

Emma smiled at her in a motherly way, “Tonight, before you go to sleep, you come and get me. I’ll do the rest.”

Taylor nodded.

The rest of the day, Taylor did her best to avoid thinking about her problem. She focused on her music. Her upcoming tour. The movie they were making about her concert. She focused on everything until her mind had blocked her bedwetting completely. But then the day was over, and Taylor was alone in her room, knowing she had to call for Emma. Knowing she was about to be put back in a diaper for the first time since she was potty trained.

Feeling vulnerable, she hesitantly left her room, walking the long hallways of her mansion towards the room she had given to Emma.

Mustering her bravery, Taylor knocked at the door.

It was time.