The Faker [Tier 2 and 3] (Patreon)

Alerts

Her phone vibrated atop the coffee table as she cuddled against Mark’s side. His heavy arm had been wrapped around her, providing all the comfort she needed for a little nap while he watched men in suits talk about sports on the TV. As was the nightly routine.

“Hey, Babe. Your phone is doing something.”

“Eh,” Misty replied, her voice dreary and faint. “I’ll look at it later.”

But it vibrated again. And again. Every few seconds, another message seemed to appear on the screen.

“You’re blowing up,” he chuckled, pointing down to the phone. “You want me to get that for you?”

She slowly opened her eyes, leaning forward just enough to see her phone as it continued to vibrate and lit up. Whatever this was about, she suspected it wasn’t good. She doubted that everyone she had ever known decided to reach out to her at once to say ‘hello.’ Something had happened. People were letting her know.

“I’ve got to pee anyway,” she shrugged, casually stretching as she slid away from him and off the couch. Even though she had no idea what people were trying to reach out to her about, she thought it’d be best to play it cool with Mark. There was no need to get him involved. Yet.

She grabbed her phone and slid it into her pocket without looking at it and proceeded to slowly meander out of the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

After closing and locking the door, she pulled her phone from her pocket and began to inspect the messages that were pouring in. There were a handful of actual texts–but the majority of the notifications seemed to be coming from various social media platforms. New direct messages. New comments.

She needed to start somewhere in the sea of alerts, and so she picked a text message from her friend Josie. She had never actually met Josie in person–not yet, at least–but they’d been online friends for a few years now. They were in the same line of business, and their connection had started as a networking opportunity.

“Hey. I don’t know if you saw it yet or not. But this guy made a video about you and it seems to be gaining some traction.”

Misty sighed and swallowed hard. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she knew enough that she didn’t like it.

She started checking some of the notifications she was getting on various platforms.

“Fake.”

“Fraud and a phony. I’m done with you. Canceling my subscription.”

“I thought you were one of the most genuine girls. It hurts to see that I was wrong about that.”

“Who do you think you are?”

She shook her head and put her phone down. “What the fuck?”

She resisted the urge to look at her phone as she sat down on the toilet seat and began to piss. One thing at a time, she told herself. She tried her breathing exercise as she sat there, hoping she could center herself a little before she jumped back into the apocalyptic world of negative comments on the internet.

It wasn’t working.

When she returned to the living room, he could immediately see the look of concern on her face. “Babe, you alright?”

She wasn’t a fan of ‘babe,’ but he kept using it no matter how many times she mentioned her feelings on it. She was tempted to bring it up again, but this didn’t feel like the time. She was feeling agitated and a little anxious. Complaining about ‘babe’ now would probably result in her opening her mouth and blasting him with a dragonic cone of fire.

“Something came up,” she shrugged. “I should get going.”

“Really? What’s wrong? Did someone die?”

It was hard to know how to respond to that. No, nobody was dead. Except…maybe her reputation? But she wasn’t ready to say such a thing out loud yet. All she knew was that there was a video, and now her followers seemed pissed at her. But mentioning this to him would require her to explain some other things too–things she really wasn’t ready to explain yet.

“It’s work related. But hopefully it’ll get sorted out. I’ll talk to you later.”

She resisted the temptation to stare at her phone when she got into her car. She resisted the temptation to scroll through the emails and comments that were still rolling in while she drove. She also resisted the urge to stop and get herself a giant milkshake and some french fries.

And then, the second she walked into her apartment, she flopped herself down on the couch and decided to start with the video that seemed to have riled everybody up.

Video

“Uh, hi. So, you probably don’t know me. I’ve, uhm, never done anything like this before. This is actually the first video I’ve ever made in my life.”

The shaggy-haired boy in the video awkwardly smiled as he fiddled with something offscreen. Misty already didn’t like him. There was just something about his essence that she didn’t care for. He needed a haircut. He needed to either commit to a beard, or shave his face. The anime t-shirt wasn’t doing him any favors either, nor were the posters of scantily-clad and bikinied women that lined the wall behind him. He looked and sounded like a stereotype–albeit one that she’d never had any purposeful interactions with before. But when the internet talked about people like this, this was certainly what she imagined.

“My name is Kyle. Uh…diplord420 for those of you who know…”

She rolled her eyes.

“So I wanted to talk about this content creator that I’ve been following for a while. Uhm, you probably know her as ‘bbhoneybunn’ but I think she’s used a few other names in the community for the last few years. Like, uh, ‘Baby Honey.’ ‘daddy_honey_drop.’ I’m pretty sure ‘baby-emily-32’ was her too.”

He was right about that last one, which she found a little concerning. That account was only active for a month or two and only had a few photos associated with it. It was one she quickly moved on from, and had erased all traces of, due to its lack of traction. If this guy knew about that account, it made her nervous to see where all of this was going.

“I used to be a huge fan of hers. Like…a huge fan. I bought all her videos and photo sets when she first started. And when she made the move to Just Fanatics, I’m pretty sure I was the first person to subscribe.”

He might’ve been right about that. She had gotten a subscriber there before she even officially announced that she had started the account.

“And, like, I get it. She’s a real human. We pay for her content because we like how she looks or how she acts. She doesn’t really owe us anything more than what we pay for. So this isn’t, like, me saying that she owes us more.”

Well, she was a little relieved about that. Though his intent with this video was still a mystery.

“So, look. I don’t think it’s a secret that she fakes most of her content. Go through almost all of her videos that claim to be her wetting and messing her diaper. She certainly acts like she’s using her diaper. She’ll moan and kick her legs. She’ll talk about how stinky she is or how squishy her diaper has gotten. But…I mean…just look at her diaper. It’s always bone-dry. There’s never a yellow stain. Never a lump in the back of it. She’ll look right at the camera and swear she’s pissing herself, but absolutely nothing about her diaper changes.”

She wasn’t really sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t wrong–she had never once actually pissed or shit herself while wearing a diaper. But that never seemed to stop people from buying her content. Either people didn’t notice this truth–or they didn’t care. And, judging by how much money she had been raking in, neither one seemed to be an issue.

And so, she wondered, where he was going with this. Because she didn’t think this was the ‘gotcha’ moment that he seemed to think it was.

“I’ll be honest, that turned me off. Why would I want to pay for faked content when I could just subscribe to someone like ‘Dominated_Kitten’ or ‘missfussybus.’ You know, people who make real content. I mean, Kitten will not only mess her diaper, but she’ll open it up and show you exactly what happened in there.”

She grimaced. Obviously, she understood there was an appeal for that type of content–it’s what many of her own customers were probably hoping to get from her. However, she had no personal desire to see or experience it for herself. If she was being honest, an actual dirty diaper was kind of…squicky.

If this was the only point this guy really wanted to make, she thought, so be it. She wouldn’t have been all that surprised if the majority of her subscribers were already well aware of the fact that she wasn’t actually soiling her diapers. They were paying for the illusion. They were paying for a face that they could fantasize about later.

“So, like, you’re probably thinking that if this is all I have to say, I probably shouldn’t have bothered, right? Well I, uhm, have something else to share with you too. Something I’ve had for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever share with anyone else.”

What’s this now? She was very curious about what else he claimed to have. She wracked her brain, trying to think of anything else that could possibly be used against her. Nothing was coming to mind.

“I mean, look, if you still want to support her after this, nothing I say or do is going to stop you. But I’d at least like you to watch this clip first. Then, decide if this is the kind of person who deserves your money. Because, in my opinion? She’s a complete and total fake.”

“What the fuck?” What clip could he possibly show that would convince her fans and followers to stop supporting her?

The scene cuts away from the shaggy-haired boy’s bedroom. This, presumably, is the clip.

Clip

The camera is shaky and wildly swings about. For a moment, it was almost nauseating. Cellphone photography at its very best. There are people in a room. She can’t make out who the people are–the damn camera isn’t focusing on anything. There are flashes of things around the room. Pink wallpaper. A giant crib. A bunch of camera equipment. It looks a little familiar to her, but not familiar enough.

The camera rotated around a table, showing off some smiling faces, bottles of alcohol, and a joint being passed around. She sighed. She knew where this was. She knew when it was too.

“That took for fucking ever,” a dark haired woman said, her hair pulled to the sides in pigtails.

“Fuck,” Misty muttered to herself.

“And those lights were so hot,” another woman said. It was her–wearing a comically large bonnet. “I’m, like, sweating through this stupid onesie.”

She knew how this conversation was going to go. She couldn’t remember exactly what she said–but she remembers the gist of it.

She did not remember being recorded, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was without her consent. It had been a long day of shooting. Libations were being passed around. Someone held up a camera and captured a moment, and she probably rolled with it, not considering the potential consequences.

That was enough–she turned the video off. She didn’t need to see anything else to know what everyone was probably upset about.

Everyone who watched the video would hear her talk about how she hated diapers. They’d hear her say that she thought any adult who got off on dressing like a child was disgusting. And they’d also hear her call them all suckers for paying her to pretend like she enjoyed it too.

Aftermath

“So, was the clip taken out of context?” Josie asked. “Like…I don’t know. Maybe you were doing a bit?”

Misty sighed into her phone. “No… At that moment, I’m pretty sure I meant everything I said.”

“So have you changed your opinion since?”

Misty laughed. “No. Not at all.”

“I dunno. Maybe you tell your fans that it was a bit. You were, you know, just joking around. I mean, you can see the booze and the weed sitting there on the table. People say stupid shit when they’re fucked up.”

“I don’t even think we were that fucked up yet. I probably said even meaner shit later in the night. I’m crossing my fingers nobody has that on video.”

“Okay, so, what was the context for that video? I recognize that Bo-Peep girl. And, uh, ‘pajamagal’ or whatever she calls herself. I had no idea you knew them.”

“I don’t,” Misty said. “Not really. I guess they get together pretty regularly and shoot stuff together. They asked if I’d be interested in making a few videos with them and…”

“Right, right. I mean, obviously, they want to work with you. You’re probably making more each month than the both of them combined.”

“I used to. I…guess we’ll see how all this shit shakes out.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Min. This is all so stupid. How did this guy even get that video anyway?”

Misty has been thinking about this herself since she watched the video. Maybe it was ‘leaked.’ Maybe some jealousy was involved–though she’s hesitant to give that idea too much attention, for fear it’d make her look a little more conceited than she already feared she was. Maybe someone got hacked. Maybe it was shared with friends, who shared it with friends, who shared it with friends.

She considered how–just by the act of recording the conversation–it was inevitable that it’d eventually be discovered by the wrong person.

“I have no idea,” she finally said into her phone. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“How long ago was that video shot?”

Misty squinted as she thought about it. “Like…a year ago, maybe? It was right after I moved.”

She had moved because she could afford to. This posh apartment was funded by perverts, she liked to say to herself. If the perverts weren’t going to be paying up anymore–that would eventually be a problem.

“How bad is it?” Josie asked. “Are people pretty pissed?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of nasty comments and messages about it, but many of them seem to be from people who aren’t even paying for my content. I’ve lost a good number of subscribers, but it’s hard to say how bad it is yet.”

“I’m so sorry, Min. Is there anything I can do?”

“If you want to find that kid who made the video and punch him in the face for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Otherwise,” Misty continued, “I’m not sure what else can be done right now. I’ll wait it out. Assess the damage. And then figure out the next steps.”

Assess

Her subscriber count on Just Fanatics was the lowest it had ever been. And, of those who remained, it was uncertain if they had seen the video and decided to stick around–or if they just hadn’t seen the video yet.

Her gut reaction was to post a response to the shaggy-haired boy’s video. Maybe she’d call him out for publicly sharing a video that wasn’t meant to be shared. She’d state that it was taken out of context–while remaining quiet about what the actual context was. She’d apologize for any feelings that might have been hurt, before attempting to assure everyone that she considered herself to be a member of the adult baby community, and that she harbored no ill-will towards kinky people wearing diapers.

Or…she could just tell the diaper-folk to fuck off. That sounded nice too.

She could try starting over again, she thought. Whether it was a more vanilla persona who brought it in horny men with pictures of her tits, or maybe she’d jump to another niche kink. The problem was that it would take time to establish herself all over again. She could probably make it work, but she had an expensive apartment to think about now. A car she needed to make payments on. And those student loans–the very thing that originally inspired her to sell smut in the first place–weren’t going anywhere.

She wondered, too, if there was a point where she needed to talk to Mark about all this.

They had been dating for six months. He was aware that the nature of her work was ‘adult,’ though she purposefully avoided giving too many details. And, being the sweet man that he was, didn’t ask too many questions. One day, they both knew they’d have to sit down and talk about how she made her money, but it was a conversation that she had been perpetually putting off.

“Mark? I wear diapers and pretend to poop my pants. And then weirdos give me money.”

She doubted he’d ever hear about any of this drama. In fact, she felt pretty confident that this situation would stay within the online community of babies she had stuck her foot into. That was reassuring, if nothing else was.

And so, it really came down to a pretty simple decision: Did she fight for the audience she had earned–hoping to convince them that she was everything they wanted her to be? Or did she give up and move on?

She took a long slow look around her apartment and sighed. She was rather fond of this place…

Consultant

“If I’m being completely honest,” the woman said as she shrugged. “I’m surprised this didn’t happen to you sooner.”

“Gee, thanks a-fucking-lot.”

They were in one of those chain restaurants with the gaudy knicknacks on the walls and the waitstaff that were encouraged to be aggressively enthusiastic. Not anyone’s first choice, but in the middle of the day, they practically had the entire place to themselves.

“Misty, can we be real here for a minute? I’m sure you’d like to think that your disdain for the diaper-wearers is pretty discrete. But it’s not. You can see it on your face in every photo. Every video.”

Misty laughed to herself as she stirred her straw around in her diet soda. “Shit. Really?”

“I mean, I think it was part of what people liked about your content before. You were a bratty little baby. And a cute one at that. It was probably pressing all the right buttons for some people. The problem is, that when you were exposed as actually having that disdain for them, it suddenly comes off as a lot less cute.”

Misty shrugged. “So…what do I do about that?”

The woman’s name was Stacy, though she was more commonly known as–in online circles, at least–MommyCakes. She, too, was a pretty popular presence in the adult baby scene. Of course, the big difference was that Stacy enjoyed what she did. She had a passion for reducing adults to whining little pants-wetters. There was no disputing her authenticity. She even did in-person sessions, allowing big babies to come to her home and be pampered for a few hours.

She and Misty weren’t the closest of friends, but they had talked to each other enough online that there was some camaraderie. Stacy had a wealth of knowledge on the topics of regression and role playing, and so she had become a resource of sorts. If Misty was looking to pull off a particular scene that was new to her, she’d tap into Stacy’s experience for a tip or three. And, of all the other people in the ‘scene’ that Misty talked to, Stacy was the one she liked the most.

“I assume we’re talking because you want to win over the baby crowd again?”

Misty shrugged. “Maybe? Unless you think it’s impossible.”

“I think it’s possible enough that I drove two hours to see you,” smiled Stacy. “Though I think we’re going to have our work cut out for us.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I mean, if the people you wanted to appeal to didn’t think you were authentic enough, I think the solution seems rather obvious…”

Misty just shrugged, as if she had no idea what Stacy could possibly be alluding to.

Stacy shook her head and chuckled. “You have to prove to them that you are authentic. And it probably can’t just be an illusion either. I’ll be blunt with you–I don’t think you’re a good enough actress to just keep pretending you’re a big baby like they want you to see.”

“Hrm,” Misty groaned. “So you’re saying I have to…”

“I’m saying that if you want to win back your followers, you have to be the baby. You have to embrace it. You need to come off as being more authentic than anybody else out there.”

Misty laughed. “And you actually think they’d buy that?”

“Oh, absolutely. As soon as you become the person they wish you were, you’ll be good as gold.”

“Great. So I have to become something I’m not.”

“Really?” asked Stacy. “You don’t think you’re a baby?”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh, no. I’m just a performer. Do you think the woman working at the phonesex line is as into feet as the guy who’s calling?”

“See, I disagree. Not about the phonesex operator… But about you. I think you are a big baby. You just don’t know it yet.”

“I hate to tell you, then,” Misty shrugged, “but I don’t think you know me at all.”

“Oh, really? Like you’re some mysterious enigma? Like you’re an unsolvable puzzle? Misty, I’ve met plenty of girls like you–big brats with a chip on their shoulder. You might think you’re above everyone else–but I can assure you that you’re not.”

“Jesus, Stacy. Way to bring a girl down.”

“See, that’s the first lesson. You need to be brought down. You need to be humbled.”

“And having all of my followers hear me call them suckers wasn’t enough humbling?”

“For you? No.”

“So, then, how do you suppose I get humbled?”

Stacy smiled. “I have a few ideas.”

Humble

It was hard for Misty to feel any sort of shame these days. Maybe back at the beginning–when she first slipped into a thick diaper. Or when she shared her first set of photos. She even recalls a genuine blush in her cheeks when she had to look at a camera and convincingly say: “Oh my god…I think I’m pooping my diaper!”

That took quite a few takes to get right.

It became exponentially easier to do any of those things when she started making money. And when she started making lots of money, any remnants of shame or embarrassment were buried deep underneath all the new shoes she could suddenly afford.

But sitting on the floor of her living room in just a diaper, while Stacy looked down at her, was actually a tiny bit embarrassing. It wasn’t just that someone was watching her–she’d been in a room with people while wearing a diaper before. It was probably how Stacy was looking down at her–with this enormous smirk on her face.

“I still don’t understand why I’m doing this,” Misty huffed. “You’re not even filming this. So, like, what’s the point?”

“The point, Misty, is to get better acquainted with your new best friend–diapers.”

Misty rolled her eyes.

“Look,” Stacy continued. “I’ve watched a lot of your videos. And there’s an awful lot of faking going in them. But there’s one thing that you aren’t able to fake.”

“Hmm?”

“Your climaxes. You don’t do it often, of course. But every once in a while, you’ll jam a vibrator or massager between your legs and your face practically melts off while you moan.”

“Okay,” Misty retorted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m getting off on diapers. I’m not made of stone. You stick a big vibrating chunk of plastic between my legs, and I’m going to…you know.”

“Actually, that’s exactly my point,” Stacy said. “You need to learn to get off on your diapers.”

“I think that would require me to, like, have a thing for diapers. Which I don’t.”

Stacy shrugged. “So you say. But do you feel that thick bulge between your legs?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Give it a little rub for me.”

Misty laughed and shook her head. “I’m not one of your clients. You’re not going to make me slip into some sort of…little space, or whatever.”

“You wanted me to help you, didn’t you? If you could rehab your reputation by yourself, I wouldn’t be here. So when I tell you to do something, it’s because I’m trying to help.”

“Fine, fine,” Misty spat. She reached down between her legs, rubbing her palm on the thick lump of padding that she was wearing.

“How does that feel?”

“I dunno. It feels like…a diaper. Should it feel like something else?”

“No, no. Does it feel good?”

“Should it?”

“Rub it harder. Rub it hard enough that you feel it in your pussy.”

Okay, that made her blush a little. That just wasn’t the kind of thing that anyone ever said to her.

She reached down and pressed her fingertips into the plump diaper, trying to see if she could even feel it when she did that. Oh. She absolutely could.

It occurred to her that she had probably faked a scene like this in her content before. She’d squeeze and prod her diaper on camera, claiming to feel all sorts of naughty tingles. It had mostly been a performance–she didn’t think it was possible to actually get off like that. But now, when she tried, she was certainly feeling something. Something good.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t the diaper itself that she was enjoying–it was just logical that she’d be stimulated by feeling this sort of pressure in her groin. And yet, she knew that the feeling she was getting now was rather unique. The thick padding was providing the right amount of resistance. Not to mention the feeling of taboo that she was experiencing. Pleasure? Through a diaper?

“Ohh…” Misty said, the sound slipping out from her lips.

Stacy nodded, seemingly satisfied by what she saw. “Now, you’ve got a little task to take care of.”

“And, uhm, what’s that?” she asked, looking up at Stacy’s face. God, she suddenly felt so small.

“I want to see if you can bring yourself to climax in your diaper…but without using your hands.”

“Wait…what? But how am I supposed to…”

“You’re a smart little girl,” Stacy said. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

There was a part of her that just wanted to stand up and tell Stacy about how absurd this was. She was an adult and she didn’t have to be sitting on a floor right now in a diaper while trying to find a way to pleasure herself. Her mind was already making a list of other subcultures she could try to dip her toes into. Like…the people who liked feet? Maybe they’d appreciate her small toes. Or…balloons? She was pretty sure she saw that was a thing, once. Or…

She shifted her body forward a little bit on the floor, inadvertently pushing the thick bulge between her legs into her crotch. Oh.

It was as if a lightbulb had gone off over her head. She had found a potential way to pleasure herself with the diaper, while not using her hands. Her body slid back an inch or two before sliding forward again. Oh, wow.

Misty bit her bottom lip, curious if she should continue exploring this or not. She glanced up at Stacy, who was smiling widely.

“Yes? Did you figure something out?”

“Uhm…” Misty felt her cheeks warm. “Maybe.”

There was that feeling again. Shame. It actually felt kind of good though. Usually, her time in diapers felt so vapid and unchallenging. She was just acting and going through the motions–hoping she’d hit a beat or two that would inspire someone to stick their hands into their diaper. But this feeling of shame was kind of a game-changer. She wasn’t trying to convince her audience that she was doing something naughty. Now, it felt like she actually was naughty.

She didn’t really think, she just rolled with it. She let her body slide forward and back, feeling the surge of pleasure rise up her core.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“N-nothing…”

“Did you discover humping your pampers?”

“N-no, I’m not…uhm…humping…” Misty’s voice trailed off, replaced by a soft moan. There was a part of her that wanted to stop, just to make the point that she could stop if she wanted to. But then she asked herself: Why would I stop when I could just…keep going?

It was embarrassing to proceed while Stacy watched, though this didn’t slow her down much. If anything, it only served to enhance the experience. She was being watched. Judged. Of course, she saw the slight irony in this–she had been watched by an audience for all the time that she had been making content, but it had never before translated into pleasure like it was now.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Occasionally, she’d do a little bounce up and down. She didn’t even really think about it, it just happened naturally. The more she moved about, the easier it was to find a groove that was working for her. Her pussy was only getting wetter. It was as if her brain was shutting down, letting her body go into autopilot–guided only by instinct and pleasure.

“That’s a good girl,” Stacy cooed from somewhere. It was hard for Misty to tell where her baby-guru even was anymore. Maybe she was standing right next to her. Maybe she was on a completely different planet. It didn’t seem to matter. Stacy’s words were like magic, taking Misty to entirely new places. Small places.

“Oh…” Misty muttered. She felt something stirring deep inside her. It was a feeling she had only encountered once or twice in her life before–the sort of climax that builds and builds until it felt like she was cumming her entire soul.

Yeah, she was pretty sure that’s what this was.

“Go on,” Stacy said. “Do it. I’ve seen your videos–I know you’re a squirter. Go on and squirt right into that diaper.”

“G-gonna…uhm…”

“You can do it.”

“Gonna…” What came next was a series of noises that someone–especially Misty–couldn’t fake, even if they wanted to. A primal explosion of grunts and moans.

“What a good girl you are. Look at what you did!”

It took a few moments before Misty could start to focus on the world around her again. When she finally opened her eyes, she found that Stacy was actually standing right next to her, aiming her phone’s camera right at Misty.

“Wh-what are you…”

“Oh, don’t worry, this is just for you and me,” Stacy shrugged. “For now. But, honestly? When you’re ready for your big comeback, this might be a nice video to share as a starting point.”

Smaller

Just a few days ago, Misty was living off of prepared food from the local grocery chain and takeout. Mostly takeout. If she was making something for herself, it was probably either a salad or something that could be microwaved. And so it was surreal for the scent of home-cooked food to be wafting through her apartment as Stacy flipped a pan full of seasoned vegetables on the stove.

“It smells amazing,” Misty said, hovering at the doorway of the kitchen to stay out of the way.

“I’m pretty surprised you even owned a pan,” Stacy sighed. “I had to dig around a while to find a spatula.”

“I don’t cook,” Misty shrugged.

“You don’t like to? Or you just don’t know how?”

“A little of both? Probably more of the latter.”

Stacy laughed under her breath. “Didn’t you ever follow your mother around the kitchen when you were a kid?”

“Well I guess I didn’t get along with my mom so…”

“Fair enough,” Stacy said. “Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, it’s alright,” Misty said. “Actually, it’s kind of funny when I think about it. You’d think that with all my mommy issues, diapers would have resonated with me more than they do.”

“Diapers do resonate with you,” Stacy said. “But I think you’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Wrong?” Misty laughed. “How does one do diapers wrong? Are you saying I’d like them more if I actually started shitting my pants?”

“Well I don’t think that’d hurt,” Stacy shrugged, flipping the sauteing vegetables again. “But, some babies just need their hands held.”

“Ah, right,” Misty said. “Is that it? You want to be my, uh, mommy?”

“Would that be so bad?”

Misty’s hand grazed the front of her tight shorts, feeling the thick padding stuffed inside of them. It was the same diaper that she had humped on the floor earlier. Her labia was tingling–as it did everytime she thought about the diaper since that scene. It was more than just the sensation of shoving her ass around on the carpet, though. It was the feeling of being watched by Stacy. Stacy’s guiding words.

“Uh…no, I suppose not.”

“Why are you still wearing that diaper?” Stacy asked.

“I guess I just, uh, haven’t thought about taking it off yet.”

“If this was a week ago, and you had just finished filming a scene, do you think you would’ve taken the diaper off?”

“Oh, probably.”

“So why are you still wearing this one?”

Misty huffed. “I don’t know! Maybe it…feels good? Like, a little bit?”

“Do you know what I think you should do?” Stacy asked.

“No?”

“I think you should wet your diaper.”

“Really? I dunno about that. It’s kind of…gross.”

“I cannot believe that in all the time you’ve been making diaper content, you’ve never once pissed yourself.”

“Believe it. Because I was just pretending to be a baby.”

“Well, now you’re going to be an actual baby. So get pissing.”

“I don’t think I can just…”

“We have all the time in the world,” Stacy said. “And I’m not going to serve you any supper until you’ve gone and made a soggy diaper.”

“Oh, come on…”

“Sorry. That’s the rule.”

Misty supposed, if she really wanted to, she could just run to the bathroom and pour a glass of warm water into her diaper and claim that she pissed herself. Or, if she really wanted to be defiant, she could just take the diaper off and order some Chinese food to be delivered to the apartment.

Though…now she was a little curious. Her earlier padded experience had been surprisingly eye-opening. But, pissing herself? Having to stand there, knowing that she was wearing a diaper soaked in her own pee? She just wasn’t sure if that was for her.

But that food was smelling good. And if there was anyone in the whole world she would feel wetting herself in front of, it was probably Stacy. Stacy had probably seen adults piss their diapers a million times.

“Okay, look,” Misty said. “Let’s say I wet the diaper. Are you going to, like, make fun of me?”

Stacy laughed. “I might. But it comes from a place of love.”

Misty had been thinking that getting made fun of would be a dealbreaker, though she wasn’t so sure now. She had liked it when Stacy talked her through the process of getting off in her diaper earlier. If she was ever going to wet herself, she thought she might prefer it while hearing Stacy’s voice in her ear.

“F-fine,” she muttered.

“You don’t have to tell me you’re going to do it,” Stacy said. “Just do it.”

“And then what? Are you going to, uh, change me?” Misty didn’t think that she’d be into that. But saying the words out loud actually made her heart flutter a little.

“Eventually,” Stacy shrugged. “You’d have to eat first.”

“So I’m just going to be sitting there in my own piss?”

“Little girl, why don’t you worry about actually peeing first?”

Little girl. She was not at all prepared for how that would make her feel. She felt incredibly small again–much like she did when Stacy was hovering above her in the living room. No, she felt even smaller than that.

Okay. Okay. How hard can this be? If a baby can do it, she thought, any adult should be able to do it too. Just…let it go.

It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the act of peeing in a very long time. It was sort of an automatic process at this point–she sat on a toilet and her body knew to do the rest. But what if she just wanted to pee anywhere?

“You okay?” Stacy asked.

“Hmm?”

“You just look like you’re in deep thought, that’s all.”

“Oh…uh…just…” Suddenly, it was happening. She had either figured out the right signal to send to her bladder, or her body had just given up and done it for her. She felt the warm stream spray into the thick padding, and she felt the padding swell and grow heavier as it absorbed everything she put into it.

“Oh my. Are you wetting yourself right now?”

“Uhm…”

“Oh, you are! I can tell! Look at your little face! Oh my god, that’s adorable. Go on! You can do it. Keep going and fill up that diaper for Mommy.”

“M-mommy?” Misty was surprised by how much she liked saying that.

The warmth in the diaper spread slowly in all directions, turning each bit of thick fluffy padding into something more dense and squishy. She felt the weight of the diaper pulling at her hips a little.

“You like it, don’t you?” asked Stacy. “I can tell.”

Misty would’ve liked to have denied it, thinking she’d retain at least a small amount of her dignity. But when she opened her mouth, she found that she could only blurt out the truth: “I…really like it.”

Fuck it. She didn’t see the point in dignity anymore. Stacy wanted her to be a little baby. And her fans–whoever was left–wanted her to be a little baby. And, if that tingling sensation between her legs was anything to go by, she also wanted to be a little baby.

There was a moment, after she had finished completely draining her bladder into her diaper, that she sheepishly looked at Stacy, who was just staring back while grinning.

“I…I, uhm, wet my diaper…”

“Yes, I know, sweetie. And just in time. Food’s ready. Why don’t you have a seat right there?”

Misty was tempted to ask again if she was actually expected to be sitting in her wet diaper–but she knew the answer to that already. And, too, she was actually curious to see what that felt like. She quickly waddled over to the table, lowering her bottom into the stiff wooden seat. The mushy diaper squished under her, further spreading the warm liquid throughout the padding. The feeling of it made her pussy throb, and it took a little bit of effort to stop herself from once again grinding her diaper in the chair.

Looking down in front of her, she saw that she had been given a plate, but there were no utensils. Not even a napkin. And that’s when she felt something being placed over her chest by Stacy, who stood behind her. A bib. Her cheeks blushed again as she felt Stacy tying it closed around the back of her neck.

“Wait. Are you going to…”

“I’m just not sure a little baby like you can be trusted to feed yourself,” Stacy said. “But that’s okay. That’s what Mommy’s here for. Now, open your mouth, because here comes the airplane.”

It was certainly humiliating, though it wasn’t a bad thing. Misty’s mouth opened, and her hips began shifting back and forth, grinding her sopping wet diaper against the chair as she felt the forkful of warm, delicious, food pass between her lips.

Changes

“I thought this was going to be a struggle,” Stacy said, pulling Misty’s shorts entirely off from her legs.

“Getting my shorts off?”

Stacy giggled. “No, no. Well…your diaper did make the shorts fit extra-snug. But I was actually referring to making you into the baby you needed to be. I was imagining that it would take us days. Weeks. But, instead, it only took a few hours.”

Misty blushed again. “M-maybe you just know what you’re doing.”

She was lying on her bed, completely nude now except for her swollen diaper. Her silky-smooth legs were kicked up in the air, and Stacy stood between them, reaching to the tapes on the diaper to pull them open.

“That’s true. But I can’t take all the credit for this. You’ve been in denial about it for a long time, but I think you can see the truth now, right? You want to be the baby you were always just pretending to be.”

Yeah, that sounded about right. The more Misty thought about it, the more likely it was that a lot of her perceived disdain for diapers and adult babies came from her own shame towards it.

“You might get your diaper changed a thousand more times,” Stacy said as she pulled the front of Misty’s diaper open, exposing the yellow-stained padding. “But I promise you–you’ll never forget this first time.”

Stacy’s hand was ready with a moist wipe, running it down Misty’s thighs and into her glistening labia. Each stroke summoned a needy little groan from Misty’s lips.

“You’re insatiable,” Stacy teased. “Did you think I didn’t see you rubbing your bottom on the chair while I was feeding you?”

“Maybe I’m just, uh, making up for lost time?”

Stacy laughed. “I’d believe that. You want to make your cummies again, baby girl? Go ahead. Mommy will help you.”

Stacy’s fingers playfully danced around on Misty’s pussy for a moment before her fingertips landed on her clit.

Misty arched her back, thrusting herself tighter against Stacy’s hand as she daydreamed about diapers. Wearing them. Wetting them. Getting more changes. Having hundreds of people, from around the world, watching as she squatted down and actually pushed a smelly mess into the seat of her diaper. And then she’d plop down on the ground, sitting in her filth as she lowered a hand into the front of her diaper.

And then, of course, she’d need Mommy to change her. And she’d need everyone to watch that, too.

Eventually

The rumors had been spreading throughout the community.

Remember ‘bbhoneybunn’? Well, she’s coming back.

This had been met with equal parts curiosity and eye-rolling. There were still many out there who didn’t think that bbhoneybunn could be redeemed. She was proven to be a fake. A fraud. A faker. If she was to try making content again, it’d be–at best–just her trying harder to look convincing, while not actually being authentic.

Others were less skeptical. Perhaps they had bought into the illusion before, and just wanted to do so again. Or, maybe they had also seen a passion in bbhoneybunn’s eyes that they hoped she’d finally make good on.

bbhoneybunn never addressed the video, nor the rumors and gossip. She had been completely silent since the diplord420 video had been posted.

And then, on a Friday evening, a new video landed–posted on all of bbhoneybunn’s online accounts simultaneously.

It was called: “The Apology.”

Apology

The video opened on a somewhat familiar place for fans of bbhoneybunn. It’s the room she often filmed in, which she usually referred to as her nursery. She was standing in the center of the room, wearing just a thick white diaper and a shortcut tank top that read ‘Mommy’s Lil Problem.’ She was sucking on a pacifier that’s tethered to her top with a light blue strap, but when she opened her mouth, the pacifier tumbled out and hung from its strap.

“Uhm…hi,” she said. “It was pointed out a little while ago that I wasn’t being a, uhm, bad girl. I was pretending to be a big baby and some of you took issue with that. And, well, I took that to heart. I decided that I needed to figure out for myself if I could actually be the thing that I was pretending to be. And, uh, I think I found my answer.

“So…I’m not going to ask for forgiveness. I’m not going to say I’m sorry. I’m just going to show you all what I’ve learned about myself. And you can decide for yourselves if you want to stick around or if you’re done with me forever.”

She steps to the side, making room on camera for another figure to step into view–MommyCakes, herself.

“My darling bbhoneybunn has asked me to give her a good and proper spanking in front of you all. You’d probably agree she needs that, right? I’m going to pull her over my lap, tug down the back of her diaper, and then I’m going to start paddling her bottom. Why don’t you all count along with me?”

Smack!

“One.”

Smack!

“Two.”

Smack!

“Three.”

And so on and so forth. By the time they reached ten, tears were welling in the baby’s eyes. By twenty, they were streaming down her cheeks as her body wiggled about. At twenty-five, she was sobbing pathetically, tears in her eyes, snot in her nose, and drool leaking out the sides of her mouth. Nobody with any amount of sense could deny that this wasn’t authentic.

“I think that should do it,” MommyCakes said. “But I think you said you had one more thing you wanted to do for everyone. Is that right, Baby?”

“Th-that’s right, Mommy,” the girl said as the back of her diaper was pulled over her bright red ass.

“I’ll let you get right to it then.”

She slid off from her mommy’s lap, landing on her hands and knees. She crawled towards the camera, her wet and puffy face even more clear for the audience now. When she was close enough, she slowly rotated her body around, the back of her diaper now perfectly framed and in focus.

“L-look,” she said. “Do you want to see a big baby? I’ll show you one.”

And that was when the backside of her diaper expanded outwards.

Finally

Subscriptions were at an all-time high. Of course, it wasn’t just her channel any longer–she and Stacy had merged into one creative unit. And, truth be told, Misty wasn’t thinking about performance as much as she used to be. These days, she mostly seemed interested in suckling milk out of bottles, filling her diapers, and the thrill of being watched by all her friends as her bottom was changed.

Her phone vibrated atop the coffee table as she sank into her couch cushion. It was the first time, in what felt like a long time, that she could take a breath again.

She’d look at it later.

But it vibrated again. She couldn’t help but remember that first night–when all the notifications came pouring in after she was found to have been a fraud. She reached forward to grab the phone, already dreading the notifications that’d be on her screen.

“Hey babe. Haven’t heard from you in a bit. Everything alright?”

She laughed aloud. It was Mark. In all the commotion and hooplah, Mark had slid to the backburner.

What was she supposed to do about him?

Well, her answer in the past had been that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Things were a little different now. Now, she was a baby. He should probably know that his girlfriend wears diapers.

She typed the words out in her phone, but quickly deleted them. No, she’d have him come over so that he could see her for himself.

He’d need to see who she really was.