Santa Baby - One Shot

I squirmed with nerves as I put the finishing touches on my costume. It consisted of a bright red velvet skirt and top with hints of white and green. It was the standard outfit for a Santa-baby, and I was happy to say it fit me perfectly. This was my first time in the show; I would’ve liked to have started in it earlier, but you have to be 18 to participate. As soon as I was 18, I looked forward to the holidays to audition and was thrilled when I got the job.

A Santa-baby did it all in the show. Singing, dancing, acting, and then just serving and bartending too. You needed to be the complete package, and I made sure I was competitive in all categories when I auditioned. Of course, the main show was Santa; Steven Jessep was always Santa, and no one argued since it was his show and his money. He was a showbiz icon, known for starting the careers of so many young actresses. I was hoping to be next.

“Emily! Come here please,” Steven’s, or should I say, Santa’s voice boomed across the dressing room.

“One moment!” I brushed my last bit of makeup on and jumped up, my velvet skirt nearly floating up too high and revealing my candy cane panties. My belt jingled with bells as I pranced over to Santa, eager to please.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, my eyes as wide as they could be.

“You’re sweet; Santa is fine. Come with me please,” Santa turned to the hallway that led to the solo dressing rooms.

I blushed, then followed him. It was such an honor to be called upon by Steven- or...Santa. Other girls looked at me as I pranced by, silently jealous. Santa towered over me. I was a petite, 5’5” 110lbs brunette, and he was a hulking 6’6”, 240lbs greying man. He filled out his Santa costume without much need for filler. We finally got to our destination: his dressing room. He opened the door and held it for me, motioning for me to enter.

“After you,” he said under his fake white beard. I blushed again and entered the room. It was a pretty standard dressing room, with a strange table and shelf in the corner that I couldn’t quite make out. Santa closed and locked the door behind him.

I started to change from shy to nervous. I was a bit of a ditz, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew what older, successful men in showbiz do to young, aspiring actresses sometimes. I backed up slowly.

“Don’t be nervous; I mean you no harm,” he said, disarming me. “Do you know why we call your role Santa-baby?”

I perked up. “Oh yes, it’s from the song! You know,” I started singing. “Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me…”

He raised his hand to stop me. I bit my lip and blushed again.

“Yes, but also...this,” Santa pulled something out from behind his back. It was thick and pure white like snow. I took it into my hands and examined it, puzzling over its form. Finally, it clicked.

“A diaper?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, dear. Santa-babies all wear diapers,” He explained, calmly.

“But why?” I asked.

“Isn’t it obvious little one? The show is encompassing. It’s all night, non-stop. Once you step out onto that floor, you aren’t coming off until the last guest leaves. It’s practical, really, but since it’s your first year, I figured I’d pull you aside and give you the courtesy of an explanation.”

I didn’t reply for a moment; instead, I continued to example, the diaper in my hands. It was the thickest garment I had ever seen, with 2 inches of padding consistently across its pale, white frame.

“Won’t the guests see it under my skirt?” I asked quietly.

“Of course, they love it, though. It’s part of the act honey!”

“But, I’ve never worn these before. I don’t know if I can dance in them!” I began to panic.

“Your choreography is specifically designed to accommodate; you’ll manage fine.”

I took a moment to think over my choreography, and sure enough, it was. “But am I expected to...use it?”

“Well, that’s only if you need to use it; some girls can keep their’s dry all night, others get so soaked it starts to hang around their knees! It’s however active that little bladder of yours is.”

“Well...I think I can hold it without the diaper…”

“Oh, no. Many girls think they can, but they cant. I will not have girls pissing in their panties on my show floor and my audience. It’s diapers, or you’re gone.”

My heart sunk. That’s what I dreaded hearing, the ultimatum. My mind was running at a hundred words a second, and I desperately tried to justify wearing them. Was it a good enough reason? Will I actually pee in them? Will people judge me? Are the other girls even wearing them, or is he pulling my leg since I’m new?

“I’ll give you a minute to decide,” Santa said, then he left me alone in his dressing room. I stood still for another minute, still staring at the diaper. Finally, I took a deep breath and pulled down my candy cane panties.

When I emerged from the dressing room, it was nearly showtime. I looked left and right before stepping out from the door and began waddling my way to my starting position. I blushed as red as my velvet costume, tugging and pulling at the ends of my skirt in an attempt to cover my diaper. It was no use, though; the ultra-thick padding was too much to hide, and the white of the diaper hung visibly under my skirt. I just hung my head and stomped to my position, the jingles of my belt now joined with the crinkle of the diaper.

Once I was among the rest of the Santa-babies, I looked to all their bottoms, and everyone was diapered. I sighed, and the head baby turned to laugh at me.

“You could have told me!” I said, blushing.

“Where’s the fun in that!” She giggled. “It’s like a right of passage. Just try not to wet it too much!”

“Alright people, showtime!” The stage coordinator called out, and we all readied ourselves. A few minutes later, the music began, and we all stepped out on stage. Every time I jumped, skipped or twirled, the diaper would be on full display. At first, I continued to blush, but as the show went on, and the applause continued, I started to forget about it.

It wasn’t until intermission that it was brought back to my attention.

I was serving a tray of drinks to a group of guys, and one of them said, “Nice diaper, toots!” I blushed but rolled my eyes. However, as he said that, I suddenly realized how badly I needed to pee. With all my focus being on my performance, I totally tuned out my bladder. Now all of a sudden, it overwhelmed me, and I nearly dropped all the drinks.

I looked to the bathroom, but I knew it was off-limits to me. The head baby must’ve seen me looking over longingly, for shortly after, she came over to talk to me.

“Just go, Emily,” She told me.

“What!? Here? Now?” I asked in a panic.

“Trust me; you just need to get used to letting go. I’ve peed in this thing twice already. It’ll just stress you out more to hold it in.”

I looked to her diaper, which was sagging just slightly lower than mine.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” I asked.

“Nah, again, you get used to it. Go, I’ll stand here with you.”

I blushed, and for a moment, continued to hold on. My heart was pounding as I looked around at all the guests in the lobby, confident that all of them knew what I was about to do under my skirt. Finally, I tried to push it out.

Nothing. The desperation continued, but my body resisted wetting myself. But I kept pushing, and pushing, until eventually…

Hiisssssssssssss

My full bladder was released into the thick padding, and I sighed. The head baby laughed, knowing the look.

“Good job, now you’re officially one of us!”

“Really?” I asked with glee.

“I mean, almost. I guess it’s not complete until Santa changes your diaper.”

“What!?”