The Model (Patreon)

A custom caption for FatherFish, which I again just mostly traced the original of.

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The Model:

Aimee looked up as Richard knocked on her office door.

“We have a problem. Nobody has shown up to model today.”

“That can’t be right,” Aimee said with a frown. “Who would turn down what we’re paying?”

“Well that’s the problem,” Richard said, running a hand through his hair, “I think they’ve figured out that the money is almost too good, and have realized that something’s up.”

Aimee scoffed. “Unlikely. Not with the rate that we move stock.”

“Well, either way, nobody is here, and they expect a new preview catalogue today. Otherwise they might just cut contact, and need I remind you that they’re the ones who control it, and that we’d be left high and dry?”

“Fine!” Aimee said as she began typing at her computer, “Let me see who I can find.”

“Thanks boss. I’ll get the shoot set up.”

She barely heard him as he left. Who could she call in for some last minute modelling? Who would be the most desperate? She considered that snooty Tamara girl, who’d said that she would do anything to restart her acting career. But no, come to think of it she had already modelled for them, and had been one of their rare success stories.

Aimee huffed. The criteria for success was so unpredictable. She had brought in every type she could think of, but it didn’t seem to make much difference or form any sort of pattern. Sometimes it was the shy librarian girl who was trying to be a bit more sexy (at least, until she found out what they were requesting her to wear). Sometimes it the snooty lawyer who had embezzled client funds and wanted to paper over the trail. Sometimes it was the random goth punk with nose studs and a dozen earrings, who Aimee had tried hiring on a whim.

And yet, the many times she’d tried others just like them, it hadn’t worked again. Did it just depend on who was on the other side that day? She couldn’t get any concrete details about how they operated, and was fairly sure that she was just one of many such contractors in many, many places. That reminded her of what Richard had said, that they could easily cut off contact. She could not fail them.

She tapped through her list of contacts. She didn’t mind hiring the same model twice, since that had worked once, but Richard has said that none of their regulars had shown up today. Perhaps if she paid them more? If she did that, however, she’d probably have to keep paying at that rate, and that didn’t sound too appealing. Could she spin some story about why it was a one-off thing?

Aimee huffed, realizing how late it was. She glanced out the window, but no cars had arrived. They were on their own.

She entered the studio, and began pacing.

“Did you find somebody?”

She bit her lip. “Well, our successful shoots are only one in fifty right?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Wait here.”

Aimee walked off to their changing rooms, and found the outfits which they had the models wear. She made a face as she picked up an enormous, oversized diaper, and then, taking a deep breath, she dropped her pants, and began getting herself dressed in it. Aimee couldn’t deny that she’d done this once before, in private, where nobody was expected to ever see her. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And their photo shoot success rate was so low that she really shouldn’t worry… The diaper was impossibly perfect, a scaled-up version of the real thing, and was thick and demobelizing once it was between her legs. She began cautiously doing up the tapes, knowing that she’d need scissors to remove them later. These diapers were so… curious.

Once she was sealed into the diaper, she turned about and glanced over her shoulder at it, seeing her butt stick way out, and did a short test loop of the waddle which it forced on her. It was just work, she reminded herself.

Richard’s eyes almost bulged out of his head when she returned, wearing a white onesie with a yellow and blue trim which didn’t quite cover the diaper and left the pink plastic panties she’d pulled over it poking out at the leg snaps. Her feet were clad in little white socks with red ankle bands, and her dark hair was done up in two loose ponytails with two pink hair ribbons.

She tried not to blush as she waddled onto set with her chin held high. “Desperate times…” she said.

“Call for desperate measures,” replied Richard, as he picked up his camera. Then he looked at her expectantly. “Well, you’ll need to do more than just stand there…”

“Right,” Aimee said, then frowned, and glanced around at the set. She’d been happy to insist that dozens of other girls did this, and a few even more than that, but now that it was her…

“Drinking the bottle is always a classic,” Richard suggested, and went to the fridge and fetched her a bottle. It was filled with the bitter, long-lasting soy milk which Richard liked to drink in his coffees, and Aimee looked at it with disgust. “Unless you have a better idea…?”

“Fine,” she snapped, and swiped the bottle. She took a sip from it, and immediately regretted it, while Richard snapped a few photos.

“Maybe try one lying down too.”

“I know what to do, Richard,” she said, and climbed onto the bed. It was terribly awkward in the thick diaper, and she didn’t like how she was flashing her oversized butt at Richard. She flopped onto her back, and began drinking from the bottle.

“Remember to play with your socks like a dumb little baby,” Richard said, switching to photographer mode as he began snapping pictures.

Aimee groaned, and began gripping her raised foot while she drank from the bottle, which just showed more of her diaper. It was only one in fifty which were successful, she reminded herself. This was just a desperate case of doing it herself to keep the deal going, like a good boss.

“Great!” Richard said, “Now do you want to suck your thumb? Ride on the rocking horse? Or maybe hold your stomach and bend over and act like-”

“Richard!” she boomed, “There is no way I’m even pretending to do that. Remember your place, young man. I’m in charge here.”

“Right, sorry,” he said, blushing, “I just get carried away in director mode.”

“Do we have enough pictures?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean variety is good, but-”

“That will do,” Aimee growled, “We’re already running late.” She didn’t mention that she didn’t want to give any more chances for this photo shoot to be successful. Though it was only one in fifty which were...

“Alright, I’ll upload the pictures,” Richard said, typing away at his computer.

“Wait!” Aimee cried, but she could tell from Richard’s frozen face that he’d already done it. “I… wanted to review them…” she said with a pout. Then she turned, and began waddling back to the changing rooms.

“Where are you going?”

“To get changed.”

“But the diapers aren’t supposed to come off until they give their response. They have those special beacons in them.”

“Richard,” she said with a huff, “That was just a stopgap measure. It’s not going to be successful.” At least, she hoped. “Now I’m going to get ch-”

“Oh! There’s a response!”

That was quick… Aimee began a nervous waddle over to his computer. Probably an immediate rejection, since she didn’t exactly try very hard.

“Thank you for your gallery,” Richard read aloud, “There is a very excited couple here, who are eager to meet her. The funds will be deposited in your account immediately.”

Aimee blinked, her mouth ajar. “NO WAI-” she began, then her diaper glowed bright, and a rift in space grew around her, and swallowed her whole.

Richard blinked at the spot where his boss has just been standing. She was in another world now. A world of giants, who she’d somehow made contact with, after reading some kinky stories and spotting photos of strange, exotic oversized diapers online, and tracking down their origin to a small rift in an empty warehouse.

She had been running this adoption candidate agency for a while now, though never told their models that was what they were trying out for. She always asked such curious questions the few times they got to speak to the people on the other side, asking whether the girls were spanked, whether they were forced to mess their diapers, and whether any girls had ever escaped back to their dimension, to which the answers were yes, yes, and only a handful, but they’d all been recovered.

He had some idea of what Aimee’s situation would be like on the other side now, and he doubted that she’d ever be the boss of anybody else ever again, except maybe some toys in her playpen.

Well, he thought, this was still a great way to make money, and maybe he could still send some friends and familiar faces to Aimee on the other side.