Desperate for Her Diploma (Commission) (Patreon)

Thanks to Gold-Tier patron Samantha for inspiring and commissioning this one!

***

What the hell had she been thinking?

Oh, Megan was not usually one to regret life decisions – certainly not today, of all days. She'd plugged her way through four damn hard years of college for this very day. She'd skipped half the parties, and the sorority shenanigans, and the spring break hijinks, all in order to focus on her studies. Heck, she'd almost considered telling Jared that the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing should wait until after she was done – but then her family and friends had talked some sense into her. "Sure, you only have one shot at a perfect 4.0 GPA," they'd advised. "But good grief, girl. Please don't go and live like a nun for four years either, okay?"

Oh, don't you worry, she wanted to yell back at her mom now as she shifted uneasily in her seat, trying to ignore the speaker droning on about life's path and the journey ahead. No way in hell a nun would be doing what I am right now. God, if only you knew what's underneath this gown!

It was all Jared's doing, to be honest. He'd been the one who first introduced her to the idea of kinks late last year. He had one of his own, it turned out: had this thing where he really liked watching girls squirm and cross their legs and try not to pee their pants. Omorashi, he'd called it – and she, thanks to her last year of Japanese, had laughed that that was definitely one word the professor hadn't covered. Well, heck – it was weird, no doubt about it. But then again, when she'd finally humored him one night for his birthday and tried it out herself, it turned out that the sight of him getting so horny for her also happened to make her pretty horny, too…

And so, one thing had led to another. She'd found that yeah, it did feel pretty damn good to have him holding her down during sex, and better still when he started talking dirty and telling her what a wet, dirty little slut she was for him. Even her worries about exams and research papers flew out the window once she'd downed a liter of Gatorade and sat there, crossing her legs and begging him – half in play and half-seriously – to please let her use the potty before she had an accident.

She flushed now underneath her black mortarboard as she felt the thick padding crinkle beneath her, and mentally repeated that there was no way her fellow students could possibly suspect a thing. Because, you see, all that talk of accidents and potties last year had segued nicely into Jared's logical, yet enormously humiliating solution. "Guess what happens to girls who can't keep their pants dry!" he'd chortled, tossing what had become the first of many such pink, adult diapers on her little bed. "Come on, Meg – let's get you diapered up before you leak all over the carpet!"

Yes, there it was: the entire truth. Megan Whitley – 4.0 GPA, summa cum laude, tied for first place on the roster of this year's graduates, head of the student council and the envy of half her friends – was literally attending her own college graduation in a diaper.

Jared's words sounded in her memory as she squirmed there, almost exactly as she'd done on the bed mere hours before. "Hey, now, no whining, babe!" he'd told her playfully, his strong fingers stroking suggestively over her neatly groomed pussy. "You know, I just think that today of all days, you really ought to enjoy things to the fullest. And besides," he'd grinned, watching her face redden as his fingers had slipped deftly into and out of her defenseless booty hole, "I'm sure as long as you don't draw attention to yourself, ain't no one going to notice a little diaper bulge under that robe!"

If only it were that simple.

For as she was quickly discovering, those fingers of his that had teased her so suggestively this morning hadn't merely been reminding her of what a round of anal sex with him could be. They'd also left her with something far more potent – and problematic – deep inside.

Jared, you ass! she wanted to scream now, even as over the tired strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" she heard another rumbling gurgle emanate ominously from under her robe. Here I was just taking you up on your dare, wearing one of these things to the ceremony. Here I thought that, at worst, I'd maybe dribble a bit of pee into it if the line for the bathroom got super long. But now… what the hell, Jared?

Oh, she'd heard of suppositories once or twice. She'd never used them before. But now, there was little doubt in her mind that the burning cramps that were quickly building in her gut could have no other source. He must have stuck one of those things inside her, all just to make her desperate to find a bathroom-

Desperate. Oh, of course. He wanted to see her squirm here. He wanted to see her biting her lips, crossing her legs, bending ever so slightly forward as another vicious cramp seized her belly. He must be enjoying this so much from his place behind her. And yes, she thought with a desperate flash of arousal and disgust, he must be getting so hard for her underneath his own robe…

"Allison Greenberg," the lady up front called now. And twenty tired seconds later: "Avery Greenboro."

Fuck. Why the hell did her last name have to begin with W?

Megan winced as a fresh cramp gripped her, and she felt the first beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. No. No, no, no. It was one thing to be desperate in the bedroom, she mused in stubborn determination. There it was even okay to dribble, to let go, to watch Jared's face light up in heated arousal as he stroked the warming front of her thickening diaper. But it was most definitely not okay to sit here in front of God and her fellow students and everyone and literally shit her pants.

Nope. Not gonna do it.

Maybe she could run out to the bathroom? But no, how the hell could she take this thing off? It wasn't like she had a pair of panties to replace it – and besides, no way was she going to try to stuff the pink monstrosity into the trashcan. Besides, with that brisk spring wind outside, there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to risk going commando under her robe. She'd just have to hold it.

"Dylan Linden." "Ming Linh." "Candace Linwood." "William Lipman."

Holy fuck, this was taking too long.

By the time they had finally, agonizingly reached the W's, Megan was rocking softly back and forth, clenching her stomach in sweat-covered panic. Jesus fucking christ this is painful! Jared, what the hell- I can't- I'm not gonna- Just gotta stand up when it's my turn- Just gotta force myself to smile and take the fucking thing and walk back-

And then, three and a half eternities later, she finally heard the magic words. "Megan Whitley."

At last! She rose, her left arm clenched protectively around her belly, and shuffled in awkward desperation for the aisle. Just focus, just fucking focus- Don't think about the crinkle, about anything- Mom's gonna be taking pics- Gotta smile, pretend that everything's okay-

It was the steps that spelled her doom. For as she lifted her feet to climb up to the stage, she felt something inside her belly subtly shift. It was as if, thanks to that little bit of exertion, she no longer had control over her own body – as if someone had clicked a remote and disabled the poor, straining muscles that had been struggling for so hard to maintain her dignity. They were finally through, and there was simply nothing poor Megan could do about it.

The first spurt of diarrhea was hot against her skin, burning her sensitive bumhole as it splattered inaudibly into her diaper. She froze there in the stage lights, wincing involuntarily as the second wave, much larger and noisier, erupted into the seat of her pants. Seconds later, when the third and most massive by far finally struck, she was whimpering softly, her legs squatting with the growing weight of her expanding diaper as what felt like her entire digestive system rushed messily forth in a sickening chorus of bubbling, gooey-sounding farts.

"Erm, congratulations…?" The face of the college president was a puzzle of decorous surprise, pity, and disgust as she delicately handed the sweating, red-faced Megan the precious roll of paper. To which Megan could only blink and nod silently, even as she stumbled back down the wretched stairs and began her long, waddling march back to her seat: a march not of exuberant honor, but of pure and utter shame.

As she waddled back to her seat, trying desperately to ignore the puzzled and concerned face of her parents in the audience, Jared's words echoed in her mind. As long as you don't draw attention to yourself… Enjoy things to the fullest… Oh, fuck. Now it all made sense. He'd sabotaged her, forced her into desperation, deliberately set her up to fail spectacularly in front of everyone. And now her mom would ask questions, and Megan would be forced either to explain the embarrassing truth, or to pass it off as a medical issue. In which case, this diaper would quite possibly not be her last…

And yet, as she brushed past the groaning and disgusted faces of her fellow students, and as she gingerly lowered her recoiling bottom into her seat with a revolting squish, it wasn't anger at Jared she felt so much as consternation. For while the shame of her public humiliation burned bright in her cheeks, an even greater and more sordid shame was bubbling up within…

The shame, that is, of feeling herself growing inexplicably, shamefully wet: wet at the thought of what a disgusting, smelly, shameful deed she'd just performed in front of the entire college.

Perhaps, she reflected now in silent and growing dismay, Jared wasn't the only one with a kink.