Chris sat in his agent’s office, wondering if he’d finally gotten a big break. His agent Claudette had told him it was urgent, he HAD to come to her office. He must have landed a pilot deal. Or maybe a movie?
Claudette wandered in, looking chagrined. She was 45 and had been with Chris since he moved to Hollywood.
“So, hon. I got a call from the Dateline producers about that reenactment you did for them.”
“Now, I know I told you NOT to take this job, remember? A case about a burglar who broke in, made the husband wear diapers and a dress, tied him up, made the husband watch the wife and the burglar have passionate consensual sex, then stole all of their furniture and he never saw the wife again and the couple were never caught? I said you should play the burglar, or maybe the cop on the scene. But you wanted to be the husband. Even though whoever played that role was going to be videotaped in the reenactment being drugged, tied up, forcibly diapered, pacified, bound, put on his knees, forced to wear a frilly dress and then cuckolded on camera. While the narrator points out that the victim was also forced to soil his Pampers. And yet you agreed to this.”
“A job’s a job, Claudette,” Chris replied, remembering how glorious the role was. JEsus, imagine a diaper fetishist like himself landing this role. It had been a dream! And everyone knew it was just a gig, no one would actually suspect that he’d loved every second of the diapered humiliation that was viewed by millions. It’s not like anyone thought Mark Harmon was actually a serial killer even if he played Ted Bundy.
“Well, yeah. Except afterward, after the filming, a young production assistant named Alicia says she walked by your dressing room. And you know what she saw?”
Now Chris panicked. Oh god, oh god. No, no, no. No one had seen. It wasn’t possible. “No,” he replied shakily.
“Let me look at the report. Alicia walked by and heard grunting and was worried the actor was in distress. She peeked in and saw the actor, Chris, on his back, his legs up, as he rubbed the front of his diapers. He was saying, ‘I’m a diaper sissy. I’m a diaper sissy. Fuck my wife. Fuck me please. Fuck me please. Make me a diaper slave, sir. Kidnap me. Make me wear poopy Pampers. Show me off in public in my diapers. Humiliate me.’ She says then it became obvious as you rubbed that you ejaculated into your diapers, dipped your hand inside the diaper, had it emerge covered in cum and then licked it off while saying, ‘I’m a bad girl, I’m a bad girl.’“
“I’ll guess by the silence this is all factual. Well, listen hon, this report has been leaked to Variety, DEadline, Hollywood Reporter, LA Times. You’re finished in this town. You’re finished in every town. Everyone knows. Everyone knows you are a diaper-wearing, pampers-pooping pantywaist who jerks off into dirty nappies. That is who you are now. You’re officially released from your contract with this agency. Get out. Now. And you better hope to god when you stand up I don’t hear you crinkling or I’m going to pull you over my knee, take down those goddamn diapers and whip your ass like your mother should have years ago. Get out, diapergirl.”
Chris was, in fact, wearing a diaper and the idea of his agent punishing him right there in the office made his cock leak. And yet he made sure to slowly stand up and try not to crinkle. He had bigger things to worry about. Like the end of his career, his life being over, and his life as an exposed diaper slut just beginning.
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