New Year's Baby, Part 2 of 2 (Patreon)

Lydia pointed me to the opening in the curtains, and I did my best to confidently strut through it. The other side of the curtain was blinding. Between the stage lights and the spotlights, I couldn’t see a thing past the stage - maybe for the best.

I was on stage now. In a diaper. Yet, I couldn’t hear people laughing, or making fun of me. Or, if they were, they were completely drowned out by the deafening wave of cheering and applause.

My eyes focused. Were they...standing? A standing ovation? For me?

I bashfully waved to the crowd. There was no way that the reaction to Santa was greater than this. It didn’t change the fact that this was so very weird. But then so be it. I was part of that weird.

“Why hello Baby New Year,” Genevieve said into the microphone. “I’m so glad you could come tonight.”

She thrust the microphone into my face. We didn’t rehearse this. There was no plan. I quickly did my best to play along without showing how absolutely terrified I was: “It...It’s really good to be here!”

The crowd went insane again.

“Baby New Year, do you have any advice for the folks at this party tonight? Something they can take with them into our new year?”

My brain froze for just a second, but an answer quickly formed in my mind. There was only one answer, really - a piece of advice that I had only figured out tonight: “Whatever you choose to do, do it confidently.”

Everyone, Genevieve included, seemed very satisfied with that answer.

Lydia escorted me from the stage while Genevieve touched on a few more quick talking points before handing the party over to the house band hired to play, and so that the party could officially be underway.

I wasn’t sure if that was what I would’ve considered to be the “hard part” or not. Standing in front of my co-workers, in that state, certainly had a lot of tension built into it, but there was something to be said about just keeping my composure for the rest of the night. Even if dressed in “normal” clothes, I doubted I’d have felt comfortable galavanting about and talking to strangers.

“You did great, kid.” It was Santa - well, Leonard - already downing a pint of something beer-colored. He handed me a pint as well. “I figured you could use this.”

“Th-thanks,” I murmured, taking it from him and sipping from it. Beer wasn’t always my go-to, but I probably would’ve taken scotch out of an old boot right about now.

“Look, I’m tellin’ ya,” Leonard said, waving his half-drank glass about, “tonight is just about impossible without some, uh, holiday spirit in you. If you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, probably more deadpan than I intended, though he hardly seemed to notice. And while his advice wasn’t completely without merit, it seemed silly that a man simply dressed as a beloved seasonal icon knew anything about the humiliation of walking around in something as humiliating as a diaper.

He wandered off, perhaps distracted by someone or something, leaving me alone to my own devices. I sipped some beer, slowly composing myself. Here, backstage, and with my grand introduction out of the way, I felt like I could finally take a breath.

“How do you feel?” It was Genevieve now, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh...uh...you know...it wasn’t that bad.”

“You’re a brave little girl, you know that?”

I felt my cheeks blushing and a tingle creeping up my spine. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something in her tone - maybe it was a little more obvious in her choice of words - that had the strangest effect on me. My immediate instinct was to not want anything to do with it. And yet…

And yet, I found myself strangely smitten.

FInally, realizing that she may be expecting a response to her query, I nodded.

“Sadly,” she said, “I’m important, and I’ll need to be out and about at the party. For at least a little while. But what if caught up later?”

I nodded again.

“Good girl.” It was possibly condescending. It was possibly...not? It was hard for me to be completely sure, but I knew how I wanted it to sound. “You certainly don’t have to be out amongst the party-goers all night if you don’t want to. But you should at least make a few appearances. They’ll be expecting you.”

“I will.”

Genevieve exited the backstage area to a chorus of cheers from my co-workers. I should probably do the same soon, I thought. I glanced around the staging area, wondering if Leonard was still around, but it seemed he had slipped into the party at some point too.

Okay, you can do this. They already know you’re the New Year’s Baby. They already saw you in the diaper. This is the easy part. Walk around. Smile. Be friendly.

I walked through the same door that Genevieve had moments before, finding a cluster of marketing associates waiting to greet me. Or, at least, standing around drinking while coincidentally near the door.

“Hey! There she is! New Year’s Baby!” said one of them.

“Look, no offense,” another said, “but you’re much cuter than last year’s baby.”

I blushed and shrugged. I wasn’t sure how that could offend me, but maybe there was a level of inebriation there I should be considering.

“Hey,” said another, “last year was...uh...whatshername. She was plenty cute.”

“Yeah, but this one?” said the man, pointing at me. “She’s just so believable as a big baby, right?”

I smiled bashfully and squirmed away from the cluster, uncomfortable with wherever that conversation was going.

However, what I found was that turned out to be the norm. It was impossible to go four feet without being pulled into a conversation about how cute I was or how happy people were that I had been chosen as this year’s New Year’s Baby. I began to wonder if there had been some sort of conspiracy behind my back ever since the day I started working here where people were having discussions about the likelihood of me ending up at a party in only a diaper.

Strangely, despite my suspicions and frequent moments of feeling uncomfortable, I didn’t completely hate the experience. If nothing else - I felt special. I felt wanted. I felt noticed. Silly things, maybe, but for someone who never felt like they ever had this kind of attention in their life it felt positively affirming.

Maybe I should just wear diapers around all the time.

I laughed to myself, before realizing: Genevieve would love that.

I scanned the crowds for Genevieve, speaking of, but I didn’t see her. I ventured about some more, accepting a drink or two from strangers. I posed for pictures, completely falling to consider the possible long-term repercussions of my co-workers having photos with me in a diaper. I smiled, nodded, laughed and joked with people.

I fielded near-constant questions about the diaper.

“How does it feel?”

“Do you actually like wearing it?”

“How weird is it to be wearing an adult diaper?”

“Does someone need a change yet?”

“Keeping it dry down there?”

I did my best to brush off most of the questions, especially the more inappropriate ones. I had started forming a mental list of people who had asked the more uncomfortable questions, but as it turned out, it was always exactly who I expected it to be - the people who seemed disrespectful every other day too.

I pushed my way over towards the restrooms eventually. A beer and two cocktails had been ganging up on my bladder, and it was time to take care of business.

“Oh, hi, I’m sorry,” a polite man in front of the restrooms said as he saw me coming. “I’ve been given very specific instructions about you and the restrooms.”

“Huh? What are you, like, the bathroom bouncer?”

“Oh, I’m just part of the waitstaff, miss. But Ms. Genevieve gave me very specific instructions that if a young woman in a...uh...di…” he stopped himself from saying the D-word. “...costume showed up at the restrooms, I was to instead direct you back to your dressing room backstage.”

“So...are you going to stop me if I keep walking towards the ladies room?”

“N-no, miss.  I...I’m just doing my job.”

“Hey,” a stranger said, stumbling into our conversation on his way to the bathroom, “don’t worry about the bathroom. You got one of those on,” he said, pointing to my diaper rather obviously.

I shooed him away with my hands before turning my attention back to the poor employee tasked with preventing me from using the ladies room.

“Okay,” I finally said, not wishing to give him a hard time. “But you tell Genevieve, if you see her, that I’m going back to my dressing room now.”

He nodded nervously, either uncomfortable being the middle-man in whatever strange arrangement this was, or uncomfortable just talking to Genevieve at all. I didn’t blame him either way.

Once again I was trekking across the wild landscape of the party, offering polite smiles and laughs to some, while questionable glances to others. Another barrage of comments and questions.

“Behaving yourself, baby?”

“Need a new diaper yet?”

“You look absolutely adorable!”

“Think you’ll just start wearing these all the time now?”

“You’re incredibly brave for showing up like that!”

Reaching the door to the backstage area felt like reaching an oasis in the desert. I didn’t think it had been going too bad out in the party, all things considered. Yet, the attention - and the increasing boldness of the questions and comments - were starting to wear on me, and once I began to let them get under my skin, my need to escape became all-consuming.

“Needed a break?” Leonard asked, sitting backstage, his hat sitting on a table next to him.

“Very much so.”

“It’s not easy being the entertainment. Try doing this every year.”

I smiled and nodded as I hurried past him, but his words lingered in my mind. I wondered if I had been wrong before - it was one thing to wear a diaper in front of my company once. But to automatically be relegated to just playing a Santa every year, without question? That seemed unfortunate in its own way.

I scrambled into the dressing room, closing the door behind me. I had started to wonder how long I’d be here until Genevieve would show up...only to find that she was already in the room with me.

“Good timing,” she said with a smile. “I wondered how long it would be before you turned up. But I’ve only been here a minute or two.”

“Your goon at the restrooms told me you were expecting me here?”

Genevieve burst into laughter, probably at my use of “your goon.” I, too, realized how goofy that sounded and I laughed too.

“I assure you, if I had ‘goons,’ they’d be doing far more important things than making sure a little girl used a bathroom. He was simply relaying a message.”

Once again, I found her word choices to be simultaneously condescending and titillating. Whether I liked it or not, I could just feel my face growing a bright shade of pink.

“I-I’m here now,” I said. “Did I need to do something special to get permission from you to use the restroom?”

She sighed and smiled, clearly mulling over how she wanted to say whatever it was she wanted to say.

“I was actually wondering...if you wouldn’t mind...trying out that diaper of yours?”

“W-what? You mean...you expect me to...piss myself? In this diaper?”

“Look, if you say no, then I’ll walk out this door and we’ll never discuss this again. And, may I add, I’d respect you for showing me your boundaries. But, yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

A deluge of questions and concerns rushed through my mind. There were so many things I wanted to know and that I wanted to ask. Yet, somehow, the question that actually came out of my mouth was: “But then wouldn’t everyone at the party see me in a wet diaper?”

I felt stupid for asking that. It presumed that I was perfectly fine with every other part of this situation.

...maybe I was?

“That is a valid concern,” she said. “But, I could let you in on a little secret.”

“Hmm?”

“I may not have given you all the diapers I had.”

“Wait, what?” I felt lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions, and while I could hear her words, I wasn’t sure that I was understanding them.

“I bought extra. It’s hard to say why, I suppose. Maybe I held out hope that I’d need them someday. Or something. But, regardless, I’ve had them in the trunk of my car. And earlier, when you said you didn’t bring any extras, I was sure to make sure that my extras found their way into this dressing room.”

As her words washed over me, new thoughts and questions kept emerging. “So wait… Before, when you helped put the diaper on me...because you were nervous that I’d screw it up and because there weren’t any extras…”

“That was, I suppose, a little fib. I’d understand if you were a little cross about that. But, really now, I don’t think either one of us really disliked that experience, yes?”

I was frustrated that she was probably right about that.

“And so,” she continued, as if to gloss over everything that was just revealed, “you go ahead and piddle in your diaper. And then I’ll change you into a fresh one. Does that sound okay to you?”

“I...I’ve never used a diaper before. Well, as an adult. I’ve never so much as sat on a toilet in front of another person.”

“Is that a no?”

“I-it’s a…’I’m not sure.’”

“Am I pushing too hard?” Genevieve asked. Something had changed in her tone. She never sounded more genuine or more concerned. “I apologize. Maybe I’ve been so eager to usher this kinky little fantasy of mine into existence that I’ve been oblivious to how you’d take to any of it.”

I didn’t say anything, only offering a slight smile. I wasn’t angry. In fact, I was curious. It all just seemed so far out of my normal comfort zone.

“Why don’t you get back into the clothes you came here in. Baby New Year has done her job, and has done it quite well. I’d say you’ve earned the chance to mingle without a diaper on.”

I nodded, thankful that this felt like the end to what had been an incredibly stressful evening. While I wanted nothing more than to make Genevieve happy - and I did still harbor a strange curiosity to see how her little fantasy played out - this just didn’t feel like the time.

My hands ran down the soft cloth of the sash and tunic, landing on the smooth crinkly plastic of the diaper. It softly rustled under my fingers, and I was instantly reminded of the enveloping thickness that I found so strangely comfortable.

I changed my mind. I gave myself another moment to think about it again, wanting to be sure that I wasn’t just doing something because I knew Genevieve wanted me to do this - no, I was sure that this was for me.

I turned away from her slowly, so that she faced my back. I wondered how hard this would be. Would I have to push? Or could I just…

It was a lot easier than I thought. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe my bladder was just more eager for relief than I had thought it was. I barely even had to focus, nor did I need to convince my body that this was okay. I simply willed myself to release my bladder...and it happened.

I pissed into the diaper with such force that I could actually hear it, as I’m sure Genevieve could. Yet, just as fast as I could empty my bladder, I could feel the diaper absorbing it, dispersing the wetness into the padding. The diaper became warm as it bloated between my legs. If it was challenging to walk in the diaper before now, I felt that I probably had even less range of motion now. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

And I loved every moment of it.

I wondered what it looked like. I wondered if it was visible or not. Could she see the backside of my diaper gradually getting more and more soaked?

“My my, Baby, you really had to go,” Genevieve finally said, answering that question.

I blushed again, far too humiliated to turn around and face her.

“I...didn’t think you would,” she continued. “And certainly not this much. Do you...feel better?”

Neither in that moment, nor later, could I fully explain what was going through my mind. Being so vulnerable before such a powerful woman, and allowing myself to do such a humiliating thing in her presence - in a diaper, no less - had completely broken me down. I felt small and pathetic. Yet, not in a way that would suggest that I had been belittled or bullied. Rather, it felt like I...needed something. I felt small and pathetic and I needed the comfort and support of someone stronger and bigger.

I felt like a child.

I turned to her finally and nodded.

“Come to me, Baby. Sit on my lap?”

I wanted that. More than I could remember wanting anything else recently.

I quickly shuffled towards her, feeling the soggy diaper mush and squish between my legs as I waddled. Her arms were open and as I slowly and carefully sat into her lap, feeling the soaked diaper press into my bottom, her arms wrapped around me. It was sensory overload. It felt completely welcome and necessary.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“N-no, ma’am,” I said.

“Oh please. You’ve soaked your diaper for me and you’re sitting on my lap. I think you can do better than calling me ‘ma’am,’ don’t you?”

I suspected I knew what she had in mind, but I needed to ask anyways: “W-what would you rather I call you then?”

“How does ‘Mommy’ sound to you?”

“Y-yes...M-mommy.” Judging by the flutter of butterflies in my tummy, I knew that was the right word instantly.

“That’s the one,” she said, gently booping me on the tip of my nose with her finger. “Sadly, as much as I’d love to stay like this for a while, I suspect that eventually someone’s going to come looking for at least one of us. We’re still at a party, after all.”

“Oh yeah…” In the haze of wet diapers and Genevieve’s comfortable lap, I had completely forgotten where we were. Not too far from where we were, people were drinking, laughing and dancing. I was reminded just how surreal this entire night was.

“May I change your diaper?”

“Like...into a new diaper?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Y-yes.”

“But your time as Baby New Year is over. Just go out and enjoy the party. You don’t need your silly outfit any more. We’ll just keep your diaper on you under your clothes. Do you know why?”

I shook my head.

“Because you’re a…”

“...baby,” I answered.

“Good girl. And if you somehow have another accident in that diaper, you’ll let me know, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“I mean it. I don’t care what I’m doing out there. I could be talking to some executives or giving a toast, and if you need your bottom changed again, you come over and tell me you need me.”

I nodded, hoping that I wouldn’t actually need to use my diaper out in the party.

“Alright, off my lap. We’ll need to get your diaper changed, Baby.”

I slid from her lap, the soggy mass of the diaper again shifting between my legs. She patted the seat of the couch and I laid back down upon it again, as I did back when she was helping me into this diaper in the first place. It hadn’t been that long ago, actually, yet it felt like it was days ago. Years ago.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can change this diaper? You’re okay with me seeing...well, everything?”

I thought about it again. I weighed my opinions and thought about the worst case scenarios. But I was having trouble coming up with any reason why I shouldn’t allow this.

I nodded to her. “P-please. Mommy.”

She smiled and nodded in return.

At first, she worked swiftly, once again showing an amount of certain proficiency that made it hard to believe she didn’t do this everyday. She pulled off each of the diaper’s tabs and unfurled the front of it, exposing not only the soggy padding within, but all of my most private areas.

“Shaven, hmm?” Genevieve remarked. “Seems appropriate.”

I covered my face with my hands as she continued.

She lifted my bottom, pulling the sopping wet diaper out from underneath me.

“I don’t have wipes,” she said. “Or baby powder, or any of those things a baby should have. For now, we’ll have to make do with what we have.”

She patted down the skin between my legs with something, and I looked to see that she had found some paper towels in the dressing room. Probably not ideal, but likely better than nothing.

The paper towel was discarded, tossed aside, yet Genevieve’s hands were still between my legs. Her fingertips were gently touching me, caressing my tender skin. I blushed again, knowing that her touching was making me wet. It had to have been obvious to her too.

“I wish we had more time,” she said, slowly rotating her finger on my moist clit.

“We...we have as much time as we need…” I said in between soft moans. I had no idea whether or not that was true, but I certainly wanted it to be.

“Mmm,” Genevieve moaned. “You’re as naughty of a baby as I hoped you would be. I’d like nothing more than to stop time and pleasure you, but I’m not sure we have that kind of time. Nor do I think this room affords us much privacy if you’re going to keep moaning like you just did.”

My mouth hung agape - I hadn’t even been conscious of how loud I must have been while she touched me.

“I promise,” Genevieve continued, “we’ll come back to this. We’ll expand on this. We can do more, if you’d like. We can do anything we want to. As much of it, as often, as you’d like.”

I nodded, feeling absolutely pathetic in a state that was both needy of her mothering and lusting for her fingers.

She revealed the so-called “secret” diapers, another package that she had stashed on a shelf in the dressing room. However, when she revealed the new diaper to me, it became much more clear why she intended this to be the end of my reign as Baby New Year.

They were big diapers, once again. But unlike the first all-white diaper, this was colored a cutesy pastel pink. Purple hearts and teddy bear symbols were printed across it. Had I seen these diapers out of context, I likely would’ve believed they were for an actual infant. But I had no idea you could buy such infantile looking diapers in such an...adult size.

“I was worried I’d never get a chance to use these,” Genevieve said.

I was embarrassed. I was excited.

Without another word about them, she unfolded it and carefully slid it under me before sealing me into the new fresh diaper. Somehow, this felt even thicker. And judging by the crinkling noises emitting from it as I shifted about on the couch - even louder.

“Nobody will be able to tell,” she said, as if able to read my thoughts. Or, more likely, able to read my face. “It’s a loud party out there. Nobody will know you’re still a big diapered baby.”

I sat up and hopped off the couch, just as Genevieve gave me a sly slap to the padded bottom, which gave off a loud hollow sound. She giggled at the noise it made, while I just blushed yet again.

“We have plenty of diapers here if you need more, of course,” she said. “Though I guess I’d be careful what you do in your diapers. We’re not exactly equipped for any kind of...well, stinky accident.”

“I...I would never...do...that in my diaper!”

She shrugged and giggled again. I was unsure whether to take that as she was just teasing me...or if she thought that it was an inevitability.

“Come now, Baby, let’s get dressed. We’ve got a party to be in.”

I dressed myself and we were at the door of the dressing room. Ready to go backstage, and then back into the party. We agreed that she’d leave first and that I’d give her a little bit of time before heading out myself. I suspected she wanted this arrangement more for my benefit than hers, but I wasn’t opposed to helping to dilute any potential gossip. There were likely going to be enough whispers behind my back about having to wear a diaper to the party as it was.

“I’ve had a lot of fun with you this evening,” Genevieve said. “Thank you for participating. Thank you for...being a really good sport.”

“I’ve...enjoyed this as well,” I said shyly. “I was worried that I’d make a fool out of myself to make you happy...but in the end, everything I did, I did because I wanted to do it. So...thank you for helping me find this part of myself.”

She wrapped her arms around me, and I embraced her back. Her lips were on mine. We kissed, one long tender kiss. Then, without another word, she left the dressing room.

I meant to only wait two or three minutes before heading out myself, but once I sat down on the couch again, and started to think about everything I had experienced tonight, I found myself needing more time to compose myself. I ran my hands over my new thick diaper, this time feeling my clothing overtop of it. I imagined myself wetting it again. I imagined her changing my diaper again, this time with wipes and baby powder. I imagined her having the time to explore my body with her fingertips again.

I stuck my thumb in my mouth, just to see what it felt like. I found it to be quite nice.

Maybe I was just a big baby.

Minutes passed - probably longer than I should have waited. I was back out in the party again. It was strange - as I walked about the same crowds of people, they smiled and waved to me, yet the comments and questions were gone. As grateful as I was, I wondered if I’d ever be in this position again - walking around so many people in just a diaper.

I’d find some of my coworkers and say hi. Have another drink or two. Maybe I’d get something to eat. And then, somewhere amongst all the excitement, I thought that maybe I’d wet my diaper again. And while I would most certainly seek out Genevieve and ask her to change me again, I’d take my time. I’d walk around the crowd in a dirty diaper, enjoying my naughty little secret. And I’d be sure to tell Genevieve all about it while she changed me.

I passed by Leonard and we nodded to each other. I thought to myself that next year, I’d ask Genevieve to just hire an actor to play Santa and give the poor guy a break.

I walked past Genevieve as she was talking to a group of managers and executives. Her voice never waivered or changed pitch, yet she was able to shoot me the smallest of grins. I smiled back.

I was floating on a cloud, or a diaper at least. I wasn’t just Baby New Year, I was just a baby. I hadn’t been so happy in a long time.