A Perverse Performance [Tier 2 and 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

College. Was she expecting something different? Same old teachers, same old whiteboards. Books open in front of her as the professor paced in front of the class, reciting something he had probably recited a hundred times before. That same feeling of soulcrushing boredom washing over her.

She was on her cell phone, drifting through the social media feed of smiling faces and plates of food, waiting for the moment when the gray-haired-and-bespectacled speaker would turn to her and ask for attention. He didn’t–and maybe that was the difference between high school and college. It was her own money that put her in that seat, and if she wanted to waste that money, that was her prerogative.

Truth be told, she could just barely be bothered to focus on her phone’s screen. She absentmindedly scrolled past countless photos without even processing what they were. Her mind was someplace else entirely.

It was in her pants.

Her new diapers had just arrived, shortly before she needed to be in class. What was she supposed to do, wait until that afternoon to try them on? She had pulled her tight black pants down, eased herself atop her bed, and wrapped herself up nice and tight in one of the new diapers.

They were cute; adorable, even. The Sea Princesses, with their soft pink and purple wave print, were the cutest diapers she had seen yet. Thick and absorbent too–or so the website boasted. They’ll contain even the fiercest of storms at sea.

And loud, yes. She sometimes missed the days of being frightened of the constant ruffling and crinkling sounds that came from her padded bottom in public. That fear that, at any moment, she’d be discovered and ridiculed. Nobody cared. Maybe there was a place that she could go where people would point and laugh. Here on campus, everyone was too far up their own ass to notice anything. She had worn countless diapers to classes. There were times, in a silent classroom, where all she could hear was the plastic of her diapers crinking. And yet there wasn’t a single eye on her.

She didn’t think she was into public humiliation, but could she start to see the appeal–it would at least mean that someone was paying attention to her.

As she sat in her seat, she gently rocked back and forth. The thick padding felt like a small pillow under her, and she liked the little waves of pleasure that traveled up her body with each shift forwards and back. The steady rhythm of the diaper’s rustle was like a song in itself; a private little perverse performance.

“Whatever you’re doing,” a voice whispered harshly from behind her, “could you please stop?”

She turned, meeting the eyes of the blonde-haired girl sitting behind her. She wondered what the girl heard, and what she thought the sound was. The girl didn’t seem to care–she just knew it was a sound she didn’t like.

Mildly embarrassing, but disappointing nonetheless. She imagined herself pulling her pants down and rubbing her diapered bottom into the blonde’s face, just to get a reaction. And the blonde, in her imagination, just shrugged it off. “Could you move out of my way so that I can see?”

She wanted to go back to her dorm room. She wanted to take off all of her clothes, except for the diaper. She wanted to crawl around on her hands and knees. She wanted to suck her thumb. She wanted to lie on her back and mindlessly kick her feet up towards the ceiling.

She wanted a lot of things. Attention–that was what she really wanted, above all else. Someone who would shove a bottle in her mouth or lift her feet up during a diaper change so they could wipe her ass for her.

For some reason, she really liked the idea of having her ass wiped clean for her. Something about that level of helplessness sounded absolutely delightful.

Looking at her phone again, she realized she was still scrolling. She had to laugh. How long had she been absentmindedly flying through her feed while thinking about thick diapers and crawling?

She set the phone down on her books, sitting back in her chair a little. That plump padding under her felt divine, and if she couldn’t kick her little feet into the air, she’d at least do as much as she thought she could get away with.

It barely took any effort to piss herself these days. There was a time when she’d have to close her eyes and have a reasonable conversation with her bladder on why it would be okay to let go while not sitting on the potty. Now? Barely any signal at all was needed. Just the slightest twitch, and she was unleashing the warm stream into her pants. A naughty little storm for her Sea Princess to endure.

The world was melting away. The professor was talking about…something. What class is this, even? She stared ahead at him as the rest of her world became only the still-saturating diaper.

He was older, but handsome. She could imagine that he was quite the cutie, once upon a time. It had been hard to realize how well he had aged previously–it was hard to look past him as a symbol of another boring institution–but she could see it now.

Had he changed diapers before? Had he balanced a toddler on his knees while feeding them a bottle? She imagined herself sitting in his lap. She imagined her standing between her open legs, looking down at her dirty diaper.

She’d do anything for him if he had asked her too. Maybe, given the day, she’d do anything for anyone who cared enough to ask. But for him? Now? If he asked her to squat and empty her bowels into the diaper, she’d do so with a smile on her face. “Yes, Daddy.”

The temptation was strong at that moment to just unload. There was something about a big thick diaper on her that just brought that side out. It was almost uncontrollable at times–her body knew what a diaper meant. If she were alone, there’d be no hesitation. Just like a baby, she’d say.

Her eyes followed the professor as he walked back and forth while talking, occasionally pointing to a note on the whiteboard. She didn’t know what he was even talking about, and she couldn’t be bothered to catch up now. The more she looked at him, the more she could see it: Daddy. He had that essence about him. When she closed her eyes at home, fantasizing about the generic body putting her in a diaper and smacking her ass cheeks, it could be anyone. But it was him, she realized. Daddy.

She bit her lip before smiling. She had to look around again, as if the lip-bite might have woken her up from a dream and she wasn’t actually in a classroom. But, no, there she was.

She wondered if it might still be a dream. She had felt pain in dreams before without waking up. Maybe? She was pretty sure she had. This could be one of those dreams. And wouldn’t it be nice if it was?

If it were, she’d stand up, trot to the front of the room and pull down her pants. She’d show everyone her diaper. Her legs would spread open so that everyone could see for themselves how wet she was. Would they pay attention?

The urge to get up and go through with it was incredibly strong. She knew in her heart that this was not a dream and that she couldn’t actually get away with these things. But she wanted to believe that she could so badly.

She just stared ahead at the professor as he talked. He could’ve been talking about anything, really. He could’ve been talking about little girls who wanted to wet themselves in his classroom. Little girls who needed their legs lifted into the sky so their bottoms could be cleaned. It’d be nice if, just once, he’d talk about something like that.

He looked at her.

It was in between thoughts. He had said something, paused for a moment, and then continued on talking. And in that moment, his eyes made contact with hers.

It probably meant nothing. How could it possibly mean something? But it felt like everything.

Tick tock. She kept looking at her phone. She needed this class to be over. She needed to get back home. She needed to slam the door shut, strip down to her diaper, and crawl on the floor. She needed to suck on her thumb while filling her diaper.

The soggy cushion beneath her was feeling good, however. She didn’t dare rock back and forth on it again, but she also didn’t have to. Just the slightest shift in her weight caused the diaper to squish–pushing liquid into any vacant dry padding that it could get itself into. It was a thrilling sensation on the soft skin of her bottom, but one that felt dangerous. Too much of this, she thought, and who knew where the liquid would be forced.

There were so many things she wanted. Needed.

Daddy. She wanted Daddy. She stared at her professor longingly for a bit. Him–the concept of him–and her back in her room. Just in time for that badly needed diaper change.

And then people started to stand up and walk out of the room. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what was happening until she realized that class had just ended. She had successfully spent the entire hour pissing away both her diaper and her attention.

She was hesitant to stand up and join the surge out. Maybe there was some small concern about her squishy diaper having leaked a little into her pants, but really, she just needed another minute to compose herself.

“Sarah, is it?” the professor asked from the front of the room. He was leaning against the podium, a gentle smile on his face. They were suddenly the only two left in the room.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have a minute?”

She felt paralyzed in place. Even if she wanted to get up from her seat, she couldn’t do it.

“I do.”

“I was getting some real mixed signals from you during the lecture today.”

“Oh…”

“One minute you were on your phone, and the next you were staring at me so hard that I worried you were trying to read my mind. For your sake, I hope you weren’t successful.”

It had the cadence of a joke, but her head was in a foggy place and it was hard to parce.

“I…no,” she said, shaking her head.

“I could just tell you what I was thinking,” he said with a little shrug. “If you really wanted to know.”

This was curious. So curious, in fact, that it lent credence to the theory that this was a dream. Is he…hitting on me?

“Okay,” she said.

“I’m thinking that every semester, I’m delivered hundreds of new students across a smattering of different courses. That’s a lot of faces. Most of them fade from memory the second they walk out of my classroom. But not yours.”

This had to be a dream. She repeated his words aloud, as if attempting to further pick them apart: “Not…mine?”

“I’m saying you’ve got a pretty face,” he said. “Cute. Beautiful. What do you prefer?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t recall breathing being so hard to do.

“Thank you,” she said. It wasn’t a direct answer to his question, though it was probably hypothetical anyways.

“Maybe you ought to stop by my office later,” he said. “You don’t have to, of course, if you don’t want to. I’m a little concerned you might have missed some of the topics I discussed in the lecture today. I could catch you up.”

She bit her bottom lip again. There was an incredibly fine line between fantasy and reality, and it had become increasingly difficult to know which side she was on.

“I’d like that,” she said. “I need to be caught up.”

Another little shrug from him. “Who knows. You might end up getting ahead of the class.”

“Whatever you think is best, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said with a delicate chuckle. “You can just call me Jo–”

“But could I call you that if I wanted to?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes. You can call me anything you’d like.”

Her eyebrows lifted excitedly. “Anything?”

“Sounds like you’ve got something in mind?”

“Daddy?”

He sighed. It wasn’t an exasperated sigh, nor did he seem distressed by this request. It was more like: It’s going to be like this, huh?

He looked back to the open door, confirming that nobody else was in the room before looking back to her. “That’s fine. And who would you like to be? Just Sarah?”

She knew what she wanted to be called. She just wasn’t sure how it would fly. Though ‘Daddy’ seemed to land pretty well.

“I…I dunno.”

“Think about it,” he said. “And when you come to my office, you can tell me.”

She didn’t plan on a response, yet she was suddenly blurting out: “I’ll show you.”

“Show me?” he asked, laughing to himself. “Interesting. Alright, yeah. Come by later and show me what you want to be called. Do you know where my office is?”

“No, sir.”

“Daddy, I thought.”

“No…Daddy.” Her cheeks glowed pink.

“Humbert Hall,” he said. “On the south end of campus. Third floor. Room 324.”

She nodded. She knew the building, and she was confident enough she could figure it out from there.

“4 PM?”

She nodded again, finally gathering her belongings so that she could leave.

“I look forward to seeing you then,” he said to her as she briskly walked towards the exit.

“I’ll see you,” she said.

She was out the door and practically levitating down the hall. This was either a very pleasant dream or a surreal moment in reality. Neither seemed bad. That could’ve gone a lot worse.

Her damp diaper swayed behind her, its weight pulling at her with every step she took. She was in three places at once. She was still walking back home in a wet diaper, while surrounded by a student body that knew nothing of what she had done. She was back at home, on her hands and knees where she belonged while she suckled her thumb. She was in her professor’s office, lying over his lap while he inspected her diaper.

She couldn’t have waddled back towards the dorm faster if she wanted to. There was a point, somewhere in the courtyard at the center of campus, where she gave sincere consideration to the idea of just dropping to her knees and crawling the rest of the way. Like a baby.

Let them see, she thought. Let them look down at me. I’ll give them so much to look at.

She imagined herself on the ground, shuffling forward on her hands and knees. She’d pause long enough to grunt and moan as she pushed a foul-smelling mess into the diaper right there in the courtyard. Daddy would come by and escort her back to his office so he could change her.

Her pants were already halfway down her legs before the door to her dorm room was even closed. Seconds later, she was down on the ground, crawling in just a diaper.

“Fuck,” she moaned aloud, consumed with an embarrassingly intense lust. She wanted it. She didn’t even know what she wanted. It could’ve been anything, or everything.

It occurred to her that she might want to contain herself some. If she was to meet with the professor later, maybe she’d want to reserve some of this raw arousal for then.

No. No way. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t wait. She couldn’t. It would be literally impossible for her to put a lid on what she was feeling right now.

She crawled onto her bed, getting on her back. Her legs splayed out in opposite directions while her hands lurched forward, caressing the soggy plastic lump south of her navel.

There he was: Daddy. The professor. He was between her legs, patting her diaper firmly. “Have you been a good little girl? Did you use your diaper?”

“I’ve been so good,” she muttered aloud, her hands sliding inside of the diaper.

Her memory was getting fuzzy again. Did she really say that she’d show him what she wanted to be called? What was it that he was expecting to see? And, supposing she did show him her diaper, how did she want him to react?

“Ah, I see,” he said to her from the fantastical position between her legs. “You want to be called ‘Baby.’ Because you are one.”

“Yes,” she said aloud in her room. “Yes! I’m a baby!”

She was wet. Well, she already had been, but this was an entirely different kind of wet. Her fingers found the source and she teased herself, edging herself deeper into oblivion.

And he’d want to know about the diapers. He’d have questions. Who wouldn’t? But she’d play coy. There’d be no answers. She just was. This is how it’d be, and he’d have to decide if he wanted to be Daddy or not.

So she’d show up in a diaper, for sure. This was a given. Should her diaper be wet when she went to see him? Or should she not wet herself until she was there? No, she’d wet herself in advance. She didn’t want the wetting to be performative–she wanted to show that she wore the diaper because she needed to.

There was a flutter in her belly. She recalled sitting in class during his lecture, daydreaming about being asked to empty her bowels into the diaper. She could do it. She would. All he had to do was ask. She wanted him to ask so badly.

She contemplated, while she played with herself, how she could direct him to the point where he’d ask her to do that.

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy. All you have to do is ask. No matter how disgusting or shameful you think it might be, I promise you that I’d do it for you. Please? Please…ask me to do something disgusting for you? Anything. Please.”

And he’d smile–that same smile she saw in the classroom today after everyone else had left. She had never seen a smile like that on his face before. Somebody else–some other young student–would see a smile like that and shiver, no doubt. They’d be offended that they were being leered at. But she loved that look. She craved it and needed to see that smile again.

He’d smile, and he’d say: “Anything? “Gosh, there’s so many things I can think of. But I can tell that there’s something in particular you want to do for me, yes? Something that would convince me, without any further doubt, that you are the little baby you say you are.”

“Yes,” she moaned aloud from her bed. “Ask me to do that. Ask me to do that thing.”

“I won’t ask you,” he says. “But I’ll tell you what you must do for me.”

“Mmhmm,” she said. “Tell me.”

“Fill your diaper completely. Make a mess. Push your dirty little load into the back of your diaper, Baby.”

She hadn’t even intended to do it at that moment, on her bed, but it was happening. With her legs split apart, her feet rising into the air with cute little kicks, the bottom of her diaper expanded outwards with a series of muffled crackles and squelches. She hadn’t even realized that she was grunting and moaning until it was done and she didn’t have to push any longer.

Her hands were still in her diaper–as they had been the entire time that had been happening. She kept her knees bent and feet in the air as her fingers feverishly twitched and rolled in her soaking wet pussy.

The stench of her diaper hit her nose as it filled the room. A shameful, dirty, smell would never be mistaken for anything else. She was a little baby who had gone and messed her diaper. Storm at sea, indeed.

There were moans, and then there were just sounds–whatever sound her body was able to produce as she lost herself to forbidden pleasures. She couldn’t even hear herself anymore. Maybe she was screaming. Or squeaking. Beeping, for all she knew. Maybe her neighbors could hear her, if they were even home.

The window was open–though she wouldn’t realize this until later.

It culminated in one final moment–a blissful explosion that would set the world right again. Daddy–the imagined man between her legs with the face of her professor, faded away. For now. She’d see him again.

Her feet landed on the bed again. It felt good to have gotten that out of her system, though she was far from fully purged of that lust. It would build again, probably craving release around the time she stopped by the professor’s office later.

Oh right, that.

In a slightly more grounded state of mind, she considered what that meeting would look like. It was possible that he truly felt that he’d catch her up on some notes. Unlikely, but possible.

She called him Daddy. He wanted to know what she wished to be called.

She laughed, thinking of how absurd this conversation could get. How absurd it already was. Fuck it. He noticed her, and wasn’t that all she had wanted? He noticed her, and now she has his attention for whatever perverse performance she wanted to give.

She’d wear her diapers. She’d show them to him. He could take it or leave it.

And then what?

She thought of her diaper–the filthy one she currently wore while on her bed. She just wanted someone to wipe her ass for her. She smiled to herself. Maybe later, if everything went well, she’d be able to ask him to do just that.