Doing Business [Season 4] [Part 79 posted on 4/26/2024]

[Babypants]

Really good chapter.  And isn't it wonderful to be a lowly intern?  With the naturally downcast eyes of the lowest of the low, Clark can now check out everyone he passes in the corridors, looking for telltale signs.  His forthcoming conversation with Ava should be really interesting, and I'm beginning to wonder whether Lyndie has a real job with this corporation in her near future.  It would be absolutely hilarious if, in the end, Clark becomes her underling!

[quietlyhumiliated]

Nine

Memo to all employees: We like to take the occasional moment to shine a spotlight on members of our staff that we feel have gone above and beyond in their work. And this week, we’d like to shine a spotlight on Ava Barton, Assistant to our VP of Product Development, Neve Beaufort.

“Ava is an absolute dream of an employee,” Neve says. “She manages to exceed my expectations every day. In fact, just yesterday, she managed to exceed my expectations two or three times within a single hour.”

—

“There’s a few ways we can check his diaper,” Ms. Heller said. I wondered if she was talking directly to Lyndie, or if she would’ve said this regardless. “For one, sometimes a baby will just let you know that it’s time for a change.”

“That’s not as exciting,” Lyndie mused aloud from her seat.

“I don’t necessarily mean that he’s going to walk up to me and tell me he needs his diaper changed,” Ms. Heller replied, sounding like a teacher. “Sometimes the communication is more subtle. Maybe he’s being antsy. Maybe you can tell that he wants to ask something, but he can’t quite find the words.”

It didn’t seem likely that she was talking about her direct experience with me, seeing as how we had only been playing this game for less than a week now. But I wondered if this was her experience with her last baby, Hillary.

“If you’re feeling brave,” Ms. Heller continued, “you could always just stick your nose up to his bottom and take a whiff. You might not catch every soggy diaper, but if there’s something else in there, well, you’ll know it.”

Lyndie giggled behind her hand. “Do you think that would actually happen? Him…pooping his pants?”

Ms. Heller smiled mischievously. “Oh, he didn’t tell you about the other day?”

“Oh my god,” Lyndie said, giggling again. “No, he did not!”

“Perhaps I’ve said too much,” Ms. Heller said to me. “I sure hope you can trust her with these secrets.”

“Uhm, me too.”

“You can also tell just by looking at a diaper,” Ms. Heller continued. “Even a damp bottom has a way of revealing itself. Mr. Ashburn, if you’d be so kind as to remove your pants for us?”

I was ashamed to say that both women had seen me in a diaper with my pants pulled down before. Yet both at once still felt like way too much.

“Clark?” Ms. Heller said again, noting the delay in my response.

“Y-yes, sorry.”

Of course I was going to pull my pants down regardless of how I felt about it. She had that sort of pull over me already. I quickly unbuckled my belt and unfastened my pants. With a hand on either side of the waist of my slacks, I pushed them down to my knees.

“A-ha,” Ms. Heller said, patting the back of my diaper. “Do you see? Wet. You can tell just by looking at it.”

“I, uhm, might have seen this before,” Lyndie said.

“Oh? He showed you his diaper, did he? I have to admit, I didn’t think he would do something like that.”

“In his defense,” Lyndie said, “once I caught a whiff of his powdered ass, I didn’t really give him a choice.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Ms. Heller said. “I might have use for someone like you.”

Lyndie’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Perhaps. We’ll have to see if Clark takes my job offer.”

Lyndie’s curious eyes wandered back towards me. I felt like an asshole for not mentioning it sooner, even if I wasn’t completely sure why I hadn’t.

“Well I’m interested,” Lyndie said. “Keep me in mind for whatever you need.”

“I shall. And as for this baby-boy here, it’d probably be for the best if he got his diaper changed.”

“I guess we should go back to your office?” I asked.

“I bet we could do it right here,” Ms. Heller said, looking around our small room. “Do you have a fresh diaper, or do I need to get one from my office?”

I nervously glanced towards Lyndie’s smiling face before answering–I just knew that she was dying to hear my answer as well.

“I…have some things in my bag, yes.”

I waddled back to the table that Lyndie and I shared as a desk, pants still around my thighs, and pulled out my messenger bag. First I pulled out the diaper–one of the extras that Ms. Heller had given me the day before. I was tempted to leave it at that, and just say that was all I had. But there was more in my bag, and I couldn’t help myself. I needed to show Ms. Heller what else I had brought along with me.

Next came the package of baby wipes I had stowed away in my bag. I plopped them onto the table next to the diaper. Again, I paused, contemplating if that was all I wanted to show them or not.

“Is there more?” asked Ms. Heller. Of course she knew.

I sighed and reached into the bag again, drawing out the pacifier. Not my new orange one–that was at home still. This was the one she had given to me. But that wasn’t all that I had, though this last item was the one I was most nervous to reveal.

“Go on,” Ms. Heller said. “What else did you bring in your diaper bag?”

The words ‘diaper bag’ hit harder than I thought they would’ve. I had laughed at myself in the past for carrying around a messenger bag with me to my internship. As if I had things to take to and from the office. And now that I did have something to carry around with me–it was just my diapers.

I pulled the white bottle of baby powder out from the bag.

Both women laughed.

“You’ve thought of everything, I see,” Ms. Heller said.

“Including the desire to smell like a baby,” added Lyndie.

“Now, now,” said Ms. Heller. “Baby powder is a very important part of the diaper change, regardless of how it smells. Especially for bigger babies like Clark here. Could you even imagine having to sit at a desk all day while suffering from diaper rash? We just want to be safe.”

Lyndie nodded, but wasn’t ready to back down from her point: “But the scent…”

“Yes,” Ms. Heller said with a laugh. “Big babies do like being reminded how little they are. Nothing does that quite as well as having the scent of baby powder following them around.”

I cleared my throat, my attempt at subtly reminding them that I was still here.

“Right,” Ms. Heller said. “Let’s get this baby changed. Lyndie, be a dear and clear off your table for us?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was almost amusing to hear Lyndie swallow her anti-establishment tone for the sake of Ms. Heller. Either she had been all talk, or there was really something about Gabrielle Heller that had commanded Lyndie’s respect. The latter certainly made sense.

Lyndie did as she was asked, quickly closing up her laptop and sweeping aside the documents, newspapers and coffee cups that occupied our workspace.

“Why don’t you hop up there, baby?” asked Ms. Heller.

I briefly considered the logistics of climbing atop the table and whether or not it would support my weight. But I had stubbed my toes against the heavy metal legs enough times to be sure that this beast of a table was more than suitable to support a diaper change–regardless of the size of the baby.

I kicked my shoes off and shimmied the rest of the way out of my pants, leaving them on the floor as I stepped up, first, onto my chair and then onto the table. I slowly eased myself down onto my back.

“He’s very obedient,” Ms. Heller said. “This may be the thing I like about him the most.”

“Maybe it’s your position?” Lyndie asked.

“How so?”

“I mean…maybe more people than you think would be compliant if their company’s CEO told them to put a diaper on.”

“Would you put a diaper on, if I asked you to?” Ms. Heller asked her.

Lyndie thought about it for a moment and shook her head, laughing. “No, probably not. I’d just quit.”

“There you go,” Ms. Heller said. “Besides I have given Clark here many opportunities to walk away, and yet he keeps coming back. In fact, if he were to say to me right here, and right now, that he didn’t want to wear diapers, I’d accept that. I’d turn around and walk right out that door without another word.”

Both women paused, staring down at me, as if waiting to see if I’d say anything. I had nothing to say.

“And if he didn’t want to have his diaper changed in here, in front of his coworker, he could simply say that to me.”

Again, they stared at me. I sighed. I knew what I had to say if I wanted this humiliation to end. But I said nothing.

Ms. Heller stepped closer, flashing me a smug smile. Reaching down, she tore at the tapes that bound the diaper together. I would never not find that sound to be humiliating–the sound of the tapes being pulled from their tight grip was so loud. I wondered how far away from this room the sound could be heard. I just imagined some woman sitting at her desk, drinking some coffee and suddenly recognizing the tell-tale sound of a diaper being opened.

“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” she asked Lyndie.

Lyndie shook her head.

“I suppose you find diapers–and actual babies–icky, don’t you?”

Lyndie laughed and nodded. “I’m not sure that I’d use the word ‘icky,’ but…children really aren’t my thing.”

“Understandable,” Ms. Heller said, picking up the package of baby wipes and opening them up. “They’re all sticky hands and chaos. But I find babies of this size to be much better.”

“You’re still dealing with diapers, though.”

Ms. Heller shrugged as she opened my diaper, revealing my shriveled cock and the soaked interior padding of the diaper.

“You may find this hard to believe, but a diaper change is quite possibly one of the most intimate experiences two people can share. For our baby, Clark, it’s about exposure and vulnerability. Take diapers out of the equation for a moment, and you still have a young man lying on this table with his manhood–for lack of a better word–exposed.”

She playfully lifted my legs into the air, lightly slapping my ass cheeks.

“Here’s his ass. It would be too hard to look right up the baby's back door if you really wanted to. That’s quite exposing. What a vulnerable state to have to be in with other people present. And that’s without mentioning the diapers. Or the things he’d be doing in that diaper, that are just as much on display.”

Ms. Heller, still holding my legs up in the air, tugged the wet diaper out from underneath me, setting it aside. She drew a wipe from the package, carefully unfolding it into her hand before running down my inner thighs and between my legs.

“And likewise. He needs to trust me to take care of him. He needs to know that whatever dreadful mess he’s made, I can take care of it. I’ll clean him. I’ll make him feel safe. And, if he’s a good boy, I’ll reward him.”

She wasn’t just talking to Lyndie. She was talking to me.

“But the other thing to consider,” Ms. Heller said, “is that hand-soap is very much a thing that exists. You will never encounter a mess so bad that you can’t just wash your hands after.”

The damp cloth was worked around my flaccid cock and another was run down my ass. Not because she thought it needed to be cleaned, I suspected, but because she enjoyed doing it. Or…because she knew I enjoyed the feeling of it.

“I feel like you’re trying to convince me to start changing diapers,” Lyndie said.

Ms. Heller shrugged. “We could always use a hand.”

“We?” asked Lyndie. No doubt, she was still thinking about the conversation we were having before Ms. Heller dropped by. The secret baby cult.

Ms. Heller smiled. “There may be an opportunity available for an open-minded young woman. Think about it.” Turning her attention back to me: “Now then. Let’s get you into a fresh new diaper.”

A new diaper didn’t just appear in her hand. It was handed to her by Lyndie. Maybe it was nothing, or just a small polite gesture. Maybe it was a show of interest on Lyndie’s part. If it was the latter, I’m sure it wasn’t lost on Ms. Heller.

The new diaper was unfolded and laid flat on the table underneath me before being slid into place. Only then were my legs lowered back down, reminding me of how malleable I was in her hands. Her baby.

“Are you doing okay, Baby?” she cooed.

“Yes,” I said.

Ms. Heller laughed and shook her head, though I could find no immediate reason for her to find that exchange so comical.

“So you can’t call me Mommy when Miss Lyndie is here?”

Never one to skip an opportunity to laugh at my expense, Lyndie immediately giggled.

“Yes…Mommy,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn as they, no doubt, turned a vibrant shade of crimson.

“I suggest you get used to addressing me as such, company or not, when you know it's appropriate.”

“How will I know when it’s appropriate?” I asked.

“I’d say that during a diaper change, regardless of who is watching, is a good start,” Ms. Heller said, grinning. “But you’re a smart baby. I think you’ll figure it out.”

Lyndie handed the bottle of baby powder to Ms. Heller. It wasn’t even asked for. Had I missed some signal or communication? Telepathy? Would Ms. Heller have skipped the powder if it wasn’t handed to her? They were questions that didn’t really matter now. This was happening. I’d smell like a baby for the rest of the day once more.

A few hearty shakes later and the new diaper was fastened around me, taped tightly in place. With a playful smack to the diaper, it was done. I was as good as new.

“Now then,” Ms. Heller said. “I trust you know how to put your own pants on?” She checked her watch. “I’m running late for a meeting, it seems.”

I wondered if people ever remarked on her own baby-scented aura as she walked through these halls or while joining meetings late. Surely, she was carrying around some residual traces of baby powder. Was it her position that helped her skirt gossip and speculation? Or…was it that anyone in a position of speculation was already well aware of what she was doing in her free moments?

“I trust you’ll come see me later if your diaper needs changing?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. Remembering the conversation we just had, I quickly tried it again: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. I’ll be seeing you. And you, Miss Lyndie. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hope that we get to see each other again?”

“I’m sure we will.”

As quickly as she had first entered The Closet, she exited–just a blur heading right out the door and into the sea of cubicles again.

For a few minutes, a silence hung in the air. It didn’t seem particularly awkward. More like there just wasn’t that much to say. I swung myself around to the end of the table, sliding off it as my fresh diaper crinkled the whole way. Back on my feet again, I pulled my pants up and over the diaper. Lyndie watched me the entire time, looking incredibly entertained.

“Well there you go,” I finally offered, breaking the silence. “You got to see that in action.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled, shaking her head. “I take back everything I’ve ever said about the corporate world. It’s so much better than I thought.”

“I’m not sure Ms. Heller is indicative of all executives.”

“No, but… Damn, I just want to be her, you know? That power. That control over a room.”

“So happy I could introduce you two.”

I had a thought that I had been working on since Ms. Heller walked out the door. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea yet or not, but I felt like I needed to throw it out there and see what happened.

“Hey. Are you…doing anything tonight?”

She smiled. “I’ve never been asked out by a baby before.”

“I’m not asking you out,” I said. “I just…this has all been a lot. I don’t have a lot of friends, but maybe we could just go and get some dinner or something? I’m just not sure I want to be left alone with all this uncertainty.”

I was impressed with how quickly she was able to wipe away her smug smile, replacing it with a more sincere one. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ll be changing your diapers though.”

“I…I don’t think you’ll have to do that.”

But I could already feel a new round of discomfort in my bladder. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to change my diaper again.

[maly]

Always good to see a new chapter, thanks.

Maly.

[Dale Ridge]

This is a remarkable story.  Can't wait till the next chapter is up!!

[quietlyhumiliated]

Periodic reminder that I love you ("Aww") and I want your money ("Boo"). All subscribers at my Patreon get access to the next month's worth of chapters before anyone else. And, if you're so inclined, the 2nd and 3rd tiers of subscriptions also include a boatload of exclusive stories that are only available, in full, on my Patreon.

 

Ten

“No way,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “I just can’t even wrap my head around it. Minutes after you walked out of her office, some other guy in a suit and tie probably walked in to talk about a spreadsheet, and the room had to smell like…a dirty diaper still, right?”

I just shrugged. I was telling Lyndie everything. Everything. Messy diapers made on the floor of Ms. Heller’s office and all.

“Imagine having that kind of backbone,” she said. “Your office could smell like a dirty diaper and you just…don’t care?”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t know that she doesn’t care,” I said. “Maybe she cares deeply. Maybe she locks the door after changing someone’s diaper in her office and pretends to be out of the building for the rest of the day.”

“The balls on that woman.”

I shrugged. “She’s something, right?”

We were walking down the street together, having left the office for the day. For as humiliating as it was to put every single embarrassing detail out into the world for her, it felt good to get it off my chest. Given this knowledge, and after Lyndie had seen the way Ms. Heller interacted with me for herself, I no longer felt alone. If I didn’t have a friend, I at least needed an ally. I needed that.

“But you like it,” she said. It might have been a question, but it seemed more like a statement. An observation.

“Is that obvious?”

Lyndie laughed. “If you didn’t like it at this point, I’d say you’ve had plenty of opportunities to shut it down.”

“Guilty, then.”

“Who else knows?” she asked.

“Within the office? I have no idea how deep this thing goes. Otherwise just you. And my roommate.”

“Oh?” she said, eyebrows raised. “Is that as awkward as it sounds?”

“Too soon to say,” I grumbled. “But probably.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “You can’t catch a break, can you? Maybe I should be asking if there’s anyone who doesn’t know.”

I shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”

We never really made any sort of plan for the evening. She had just begun following me after work. I used my transit pass to board the train, wondering if that might’ve been our point of separation. But then she scanned hers and followed me to the tracks where we boarded my train together.

It looked like she was coming home with me.

Sitting down on the train brought a blush to my face. First, there was the louder-than-expected crinkling coming from my rear as I lowered myself to the seat. Then, the faint scent of baby powder hung in the air around us. I wondered if I’d ever get used to that.

“Need a change?” she teased.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

Somewhere between getting my diaper changed by Ms. Heller in The Closet and leaving work, I had returned to Ms. Heller for another fresh diaper. The fact that getting my diaper changed by the CEO now felt like a footnote in my day rather than the main event made me a little nervous. Someday soon, all this weirdness in my life might seem kind of…normal.

“She offered you a job?” Lyndie asked.

“Yeah…”

“Full time baby, I assume? Are you going to be her court jester? Bopping around in a stinky diaper for her amusement?”

“Her assistant,” I said. “But…let’s be real. That might as well be the same thing as a jester. She’s certainly not interested in me for my filing skills.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about that?”

“Well, for one, it would’ve required me to tell you about, you know, diapers?”

She chuckled. “Right, right. That checks out. So, now that your dirty laundry–pun absolutely intended–is out in the open, are you going to take her up on the offer?”

I spared her my whole internal debate about the fork in the road my life was approaching, just cutting to the current feeling I had in my gut: “Yeah, probably.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Do you think you’ll get business cards? Your official title can read: ‘Office Baby.’ And the card could even be baby-scented.”

My cheeks warmed again. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m learning a lot about office politics,” she said. “For one, there are clearly two types of employees: Parents and babies.”

I was reminded of something Ms. Heller had said to me in one of our earliest encounters–that there were just leaders and followers. By recognizing a similar pattern herself, Lyndie’s quip only further confirmed that she was in the ‘leader’ category.

Or, ‘parents.’

“You might be onto something,” I said, staring out the train’s window as the chain of cars began to move forward on the track.

A few minutes passed, mostly in silence. We had said plenty already, and there’d be more to say later, so I didn’t think much of it.

“Do you have, like, a boyfriend?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“No,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t put much thought into my question before asking it. But, then, I worried that denying my interest could’ve sounded even worse. “Not that I don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend or anything…”

“Calm down, baby,” she teased.

“I just don’t know a whole lot about you.”

“I tend to prefer it that way,” she said.

This, I already knew. Her antiauthoritarian attitude had suggested she was the lone-wolf type. I wondered where that fell on the whole leader/follower paradigm. Or, parent/baby.

“I’m single,” she continued, getting back to my question. “If you were anyone else, I’d say it’s by choice.”

“But because it’s me?”

She laughed. “I just got dumped a few weeks ago.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Well…no, it is. But I’m getting over it.”

“What happened?”

“We’re young and stupid, honestly. I wish I had a better answer, but that’s what it boils down to. I wasn’t going to marry this ding-dong and I doubt he wanted to marry me either. He found someone that put out more than I did, so I got kicked to the curb.”

This felt good. Adult conversation. Well, young-adult conversation at least. I struggled to maintain friendships in college, and while Evan and I got along just fine, at the end of the day he was more roommate than friend.

“I’d ask about your love life,” she said, “but I suspect it begins and ends with your Mommy.”

“You’re not entirely wrong…”

“You’re not going to win over too many women while peeing in your Pampers.”

I shrugged, doing my best not to let my embarrassment show. “I’m not sure that I’m looking to date right now.”

“Why?” she asked, grinning. “Do you think you and Gabrielle Heller have a future together?”

The thought had never crossed my mind before, and hearing the words come out of her mouth did sound kind of ridiculous. Still, the idea did seem to resonate with some part of me.

“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head. “I think you might be right.”

She laughed, slapping my leg playfully. “Seriously?”

“I dunno.” I was thinking out loud now, venturing into parts of my psyche that I had yet to analyze or process–a dangerous place to be, really. “Nobody’s ever paid attention to me like she has, you know?”

“Are you in loooove,” she asked, mockingly. Condescendingly.

“No.” Not yet…

She sighed, her smile fading a little bit. “Look, just do me a favor.”

“Hmm?”

“Just…be careful?” Her tone had changed, and I could tell she was being choosy with her words. “There’s still this big power dynamic in play, right? You’re having fun and meeting all of her needs and being the best baby you can be. But you’re still just a toy to her. And she’s a big powerful CEO. She eats little babies like you for breakfast.”

I recognized that she was probably right about all of that, but to truly embrace her words would put a huge damper on the thrill this new lifestyle was giving me. I tucked away what she said into a small place in the back of my mind for now.

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

It wasn’t long after that we had reached my stop. Lyndie followed me off the train and out of the station.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged, realizing I had no plan at all.

“I assume you’re fine with going to your place?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“We can order a pizza, then.”

It seemed as good a plan as any. Her ability to make a plan on the fly certainly had ‘leader’ qualities to it. “That sounds perfect. I can order one now.”

I pulled open my food delivery app on the phone as we walked. For a moment, I was feeling inspired–like I too could show some leadership by just ordering food without consulting her for her opinion. But I hesitated, it just wasn’t in my nature.

“Pepperoni,” she said, as if reading my mind.

I laughed and shook my head, selecting that from the menu.

“Will your roommate care that I’m there?” she asked.

“I doubt it. He’s pretty chill. Besides, he’ll be happy I ordered food.”

The closer we got to the apartment, the more I had to pee. For a few minutes, I didn’t think much of it. Twenty years of experience had taught me that I could easily ignore these early alerts from my bladder. But, I thought, I was wearing a diaper. I weighed my options, and I was left feeling confident that I could probably go ahead and wet my diaper without it causing any sort of unnecessary humiliation. I’d wet myself, go home, and then change. Easy peasy.

“I don’t talk to my roommate much,” she said. “We used to be close when we first moved in. I don’t think, like, anything happened. But I think she’s going through some stuff, you know? I think she’s struggling in school and it sounds like her mom is a real bitch and…”

I was only partially listening to what she had to say. It was one thing to wet myself while sitting in an office chair or just standing in a room. Walking down the street with someone, trying to seem engaged in a conversation, was something else entirely. I could feel the pressure in my bladder building. I knew that I had to go, but it was hard convincing my body that this was an acceptable time to do it.

“Yeah, I hear that,” I said, hoping that I was providing a suitable answer at a suitable pause in the conversation.

“But, whatever,” she continued. “If what she says is true, it’s not like it’ll be an issue for that much longer, you know? She’ll go her own way, and I’ll go mine. So it’s not even worth getting mad about, really. I don’t want to say it’s silly but at the same time…”

I couldn’t have been paying less attention to what she was saying. I was concentrating on my bladder, and my efforts to empty it into the diaper.

This isn’t hard, I told myself. You do this all the time. Pee. That’s it! Just pee. Pee into the diaper. You can do it. Pee into the diaper.

“...and she thinks that I’m probably going to end up paying that bill, right? I mean, maybe? But do I really want to pay it when I know that she’s probably not going to be able to pay me back?”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Was she still talking about her roommate? It didn’t matter. Focus. Not on Lyndie, on peeing. Pee into the diaper. Pee into the diaper.

We reached a crosswalk and paused, waiting for the signal to change so that we could proceed. It was here, stopped, that I was finally able to win my battle over my body. I could’ve moaned in relief, it felt so good to feel the warm pee begin to trickle into the padding, slowly growing into a heavier stream. The warm sensation saturated the diaper, quickly spreading in all directions. It felt heavenly.

“I don’t think it’s that funny,” Lyndie said, looking at me. I stared at her vacantly for a moment, unsure of what she was talking about or why she’d get the impression that I thought it was funny.

“I…I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Are you even paying attention to me?”

“Well…sure. It’s just that I was–”

She shook her head and chuckled to herself. Just in time for the ‘walk’ signal to light up so we could continue on our way.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You were just using your diaper, weren’t you?”

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “No way!”

“Oh come on, I’m trying to open up about my life and I look at your face and all I see is some dumb baby who is lost in thought. And then you got this goofy grin on your face. You totally just pissed your pants, didn’t you?”

“No! I was paying attention! I’m sorry, I just got the tiniest bit distracted for a moment there.”

“So if I made you pull your pants down, I’d see a completely clean and dry diaper?”

“Well…that’s not what I said.”

She laughed. “So you did just piss your diaper?”

“I didn’t say that either.” I swallowed nervously, frustrated that I had once again seemingly set myself up for embarrassment. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t think it mattered. There was still a plan: get home and get changed.

I was saved by the sight of my apartment building ahead. “That’s where I live.”

“Is that the crib?” she asked. There was an implied wink and nudge.

We entered through the lobby and boarded the elevator. I hit the button for the fifth floor, and no sooner than the large metal doors slid shut, Lyndie turned to me with a wildly gleeful look in her eyes.

“Well?” she asked, as if I should already have known what she wanted.

“Well what?”

“Show me your diaper!”

“No way! I can’t just… Not here on the elevator.”

“Real quick,” she said. “Just pull down your pants, show me, and then pull your pants right back up again.”

The elevator began to move; it was a dreadfully slow machine. We were so close to the apartment now. So close to just leaping into my room and slamming the door shut for long enough that I could exchange this sopping wet diaper for a new one. I wondered if I’d be able to stall her long enough to get out of the elevator without pulling my pants down.

“There’s really nothing to see,” I said. “Just forget about it.”

“Do I need to tell Mommy?” she asked playfully? “What would she say if she knew that you weren’t being a good little boy and allowing for a diaper check?”

Damnit. I had no idea if Lyndie was bluffing or not, nor was I sure that Ms. Heller would care if Lyndie did actually say something to her. But just the thought of that conversation happening–the potential humiliation–was enough for me to reconsider my plan.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “It has to be quick though.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Just show me.”

I glanced up at the LED screen above the elevator’s buttons. Three more floors to go. Surely enough time to give her a quick peek.

I took a deep breath and quickly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants before shoving my pants down, just far enough that my diaper would be visible to her. I, of course, knew what she’d find and could guess how she’d react, and I braced myself for that humiliation.

“Well would you look at that,” she said, bending over to get a quicker look. “Looks like someone did have a little accident in their diapers, huh?”

Two more floors to go.

“There,” I said. “Happy now? Can I pull my pants up?”

She seemed to ignore my question, instead running her hand over my diaper. “It’s so warm. It gets so squishy when you’ve peed in it, yeah?”

One floor to go.

“Okay, I need to pull my pants up,” I said, practically pleading now. “Please. We’re almost there and the door is going to open and…”

“Sheesh,” she muttered. “Just hold your horses, okay? I’m still checking the baby’s diaper.”

DING. We had arrived. And the door immediately opened, revealing my neighbor–a middle-aged woman from a few doors down the hall, Ms. Tuttleman.

I quickly pulled up my pants, having to give them an extra firm hoist to get them up and over the swollen diaper. I could only imagine how red my face was. Meanwhile, Lyndie slowly stood up straight, grinning as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Uhm, hi, Ms. Tuttleman.”

The woman narrowed her eyes towards us, looking both concerned and suspicious. “Good afternoon, Clark,” she finally offered. And to Lyndie: “Miss.”

“Good afternoon,” Lyndie said back with a polite nod.

We quickly stepped off the elevator as Ms. Tuttleman got in. Her eyes continued to watch us as the elevator doors slid shut again.

“Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” Lyndie asked.

I wanted to crawl into a deep pit and allow myself to be buried alive. I couldn’t believe I had been exposed, once again, to someone else–another person who I encountered regularly enough. How was I ever supposed to look her in the face again?

“That was not fun,” I said. “I’d love it if I could make it, like, ten whole minutes without being embarrassed.”

“I hate to say it,” Lyndie said, “but you’re probably not going to get those ten minutes anytime soon.”

“Why not?” I spat.

“You said your roommate knows already, right?”

I nodded, though it occurred to me that he only sort-of knew. He had made guesses, but nothing was actually ever confirmed.

She shrugged. “If everybody knows, I see no reason not to talk about it.”

Fuck. It was going to be a long night.

 

[Amber's Boy]

Really digging this

[D503]

Such a great story

[Anton]

Another great chapter. Thank you.

 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Eleven

“I don’t think this has ever happened before,” Evan said as Lyndie followed me into the apartment. “Are you actually bringing a woman home?”

“Lyndie, this is my roommate Evan,” I said. “Evan, this is Lyndie. We work together. We’re friends.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Evan said, shaking her hand. “This is normally the part where I’d say that I’ve only heard great things about you, but I don’t think he’s ever told me about you before.”

“No?” Lyndie asked with a smile. “Has he told you about his boss?”

I cleared my throat nervously, afraid that Lyndie was wasting no time in making tonight the circus that I feared it would become.

“Only that she offered him a permanent position,” he said, shrugging. “Why? Is she a real bitch?”

“Quite the opposite, really,” Lyndie said. “Kind of…maternal, I suppose you could say.”

There was the slightest twitch in Evan’s lips, like he wanted to piece that together with what he had learned about me the other night.

“I ordered pizza,” I said, hoping to start a new conversation that distracted him. “It should be here soon.”

“That’s good to hear,” Evan said. “I can get some plates together. Maybe some drinks? Lyndie, what can I get for you?”

“Oh, I’m not picky,” she said. “Whatever.”

“We have beer,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s very good beer, if that matters.”

Lyndie shrugged. “Beer is fine.”

Beer was a recent arrival to our lives. With neither Evan or I being all that social, we weren’t going to any parties. And we had both only just turned 21 in the last few months. When either of us went to the store–usually me–we’d occasionally grab a 6 or 12 pack of whatever looked interesting. Or cheap. Usually cheap.

“Humphrey Light?” she said, reading from the can that Evan handed to her. “I’ve never even heard of this.”

Nor had I, and there was only one store in town that sold it–almost hidden in the back corner like even the store was ashamed of having it. But it was impossibly cheap.

“Beer is beer,” I said with a shrug. It felt like the kind of thing I’d remember saying years from now, and I’d wonder how I could’ve been so stupid.

“You want one too?” asked Evan.

“Set one aside for me. I just need to run to my room real quick.” I looked towards Lyndie, catching the growing smile on her face. She knew exactly what I needed to do. I was surprised that she wasn’t offering to follow me to my room to watch me undress and change–though thankful she hadn’t.

“Don’t be long,” she said, in a sing-song tone.

“Just a minute or two,” I said, before scurrying back to my room and closing the door.

My body felt like it was moving at 2x speed. I unbuttoned my work shirt and stripped off my tie, throwing both over the back of my chair. I let my pants fall to the ground, while thinking about how often I had pulled my pants down over the course of the day–for an audience. I peeled the tapes off from the diaper, failing to consider how loud the sticky strips sounded as they were freed from the plastic. Even louder was the sound of the wet diaper falling to the floor with a soggy THUMP.

I debated if I should put on another diaper or just put some boxers on instead. After having left the office, I was under no obligation to put another on. Even if I wanted to, a little. But no. It seemed like a bad idea while hanging out with Lyndie and Evan. They already knew way too much, and I didn’t need to further embarrass myself by crinkling like a toddler all night. I ran a damp baby wipe between my legs and around my soft manhood, hoping to clean away any lingering urine or baby powder scents.

Slipping into a pair of boxers felt strange now. I had grown so accustomed to the thick presence of the diaper in my pants that anything else felt nonexistent. After putting on a pair of joggers, I ran my hands over my ass, dismayed at the lack of extra padding. Even walking felt strange, as I no longer had to overcorrect my steps to account for the waddle the diapers gave me.

I missed Mommy.

I returned to the others in the kitchen, finding that Evan and Lyndie already seemed to be hitting it off.

“...and I got to see them live,” she was saying. “One of the best shows I’ve ever been to.”

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t go to many concerts. But I might make an exception if they played around here.”

“Who are we talking about?” I asked.

“Nine Inch Nails,” she said. “Are you a fan?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure I could name a single song by them.”

“It’s not really his kind of music,” Evan said, laughing. “He likes happy hipster music. What was that band you were listening to the other day? The Furry Foxes?”

“Fleet Foxes,” I corrected. Hardly what I’d consider to be ‘happy hipster’ music, but it seemed like a moot point to argue.

“How’d you two meet anyway,” she asked.

“Friends of friends, I think,” Evan said. To me: “Tom, right?”

I nodded. “I think so. One of those things where we were both looking for a place at the same time, and our mutual friend Tom connected us.”

“Do you get along?” she asked, as if interviewing us.

“I’d say so,” I said. “We give each other the space we need, and that’s all you can really ask for.”

“We can both deal with each other’s eccentricities,” Evan added, laughing.

“I’m curious about that,” she said. She pointed to me. “What would you say is Evan’s weirdest trait?”

I nervously glanced towards Evan. It was an awkward spot to be put in, and I wasn’t sure that I could think of an answer that wouldn’t be uncomfortable for him to hear. And likewise, what would he say about me? It was a dangerous game. He’d give back whatever I gave him, so it would be best to tread lightly.

“It’s cool,” Evan said. “Roast me. Let me have it.”

Fuck it. “Well, he’s a hermit, for one,” I said. “To the point where I wonder if sunlight would kill him. When’s the last time you left this apartment?”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Damn, man. You’re not wrong. I guess I always hoped that wasn’t so obvious.”

“Agoraphobic?” asked Lyndie.

“A homebody,” he said, shrugging. “I’m tempted to just say ‘lazy,’ but maybe I’m just…depressed.” He laughed again, the nervous chuckle of someone who might have just made an accidental breakthrough with themselves.

“No judgment here,” I said. I now felt bad for trying to make light of his antisocial tendencies.

“Nor here,” Lyndie added. “But now you’ve got to give us some dirt on Clark.”

Oh boy.

Evan laughed. “I dunno…”

“It’s cool,” I said. “Let’s just put it all out there.”

“Okay, so then can we talk about the weird baby-thing?” he asked.

Lyndie was on the edge of her seat, looking ecstatic.

“I get the feeling that…you know all about this already?” Evan asked Lyndie, glancing at her excited face.

“Oh, I got a front-row seat for the weirdness at work today,” she said.

“Wait,” he said, looking absolutely astonished. “What?”

I sighed. “I probably need to catch you up on a few things…”

“I thought you said he knew all about it,” Lyndie said.

“He knows of it. I guess. Maybe.”

“Here’s what I know,” Evan said. “You were moaning like a banshee the other night, calling out for mommies and diapers. And then you came stumbling out of your room smelling like a baby’s changing table.”

Lyndie was already in hysterics, seemingly unable to stop herself.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” I said.

“Alright,” Lyndie said, containing her laughter for long enough to face Evan. She was ready to unload all the dirt. “You might want to hold onto something, because this ride is a bit crazy.”

Evan lifted his can of cheap beer into the air, showing his tight grip on it.

“Perfect. So, the CEO of this entire company has personally selected little Clark here to be her weird kinky sex slave.”

Evan looked at me, pure confusion washing over his face. “Sex slave? You?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s just humping her all day long,” Lyndie continued. “She’s keeping him in diapers. Treating him like a baby. And I don’t mean she’s, like, teasing him babytalk or something. She’s literally putting him on his back and changing his diaper like an infant.”

Evan shook his head in astonishment. “Jesus. And you…like that?”

I felt my cheeks burn. “I mean…”

“Yes,” Lyndie said, answering on my behalf. “He fucking loves it!”

“You said you actually saw it happening today?” Evan asked her.

“So Gabrielle–this enormous company’s CEO–barges into the broom closet that we get to use as an office, right? And with no regard for whether or not I was there, she makes him lie down on top of the desk so she can change his diaper.”

“Which begs the question,” said Evan, “you not only wear diapers, but you use them?”

“Uh…yeah, that’s right,” I said, nodding.

“At work?”

I nodded again. “Also true.”

“How does that even work?” he asked.

“So far?” replied Lyndie. “Not at all. You know. I know. Your neighbor now knows. God knows how many other people know.”

“Our neighbor?” chuckled Evan. “Which one?”

“Ms. Tuttleman…”

“How the hell did that she see…” Evan stopped himself and shook his head. “No, nevermind. I don’t even want to know how that happened.”

“Alright, fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “We can all agree that my life is infinitely weirder than Old Man Hermit over here who hasn’t stepped outside in 40 years.”

“Aww, calm down,” Lyndie said. “Don’t get your diapers in a twist.”

“If he gets too excited, does he wet his pants?” mocked Evan.

“Probably,” said Lyndie, shrugging. “Speaking of, are you currently rocking your baby-pants? Pull-ups?”

“I’m a big kid now,” sang Evan in an especially teasing tone.

“No,” I said. “Just regular old underwear.” I had to take a mental snapshot of this moment: getting teased at my own kitchen table about diapers from both my roommate and coworker.

“Aw, what the hell?” Lyndie said. “You’re not going to model your diapies for us?”

“I think you’ve seen more than enough of my…diaper area today,” I said.

“I dunno,” Evan said. “Is it weird that I want to see it?”

“See what?” I asked. “Me in a diaper?”

“Yeah. I mean, c’mon, that’s not something you see every day, right? How could you not be curious about that?”

“Sure, I guess. But I’m not going to go and put a diaper on for your entertainment. Don’t I deserve a break from being everyone’s laughing stock?”

“Maybe,” Lyndie said, smiling. “But you like it. So, we’d be doing you a favor by making you go and put one on again for us.”

I sighed. “You don’t actually expect me to go put a diaper on for you two right now, do you?”

Lyndie and Evan looked at each other, simultaneously answering: “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to,” Lyndie said. It wasn’t the first time I had heard that recently. “But if you wanted to? Nobody would be mad about that.”

I took a long sip of the beer while I thought about it. It tasted terrible. This quality had to be indicative of the price. Otherwise who would ever choose to drink beer?

Focus.

It seemed like a bad idea. An obviously bad idea–the kind where if you explained it to someone else later, they’d say: “Well, of course, you shouldn’t have done that.” But there was that yearning again–that need for the feeling of shame and humiliation. In my own home? It was way more tempting than it should’ve been.

“I…I’ll just be a second,” I said, getting up from the table. I quickly turned and walked back to my room, closing the door behind me.

At that moment, I honestly had no idea if I was going to put a diaper on or not. I just wanted to think about it without their hungry eyes staring at me. I knew what they wanted–they wanted Baby Clark. They wanted someone to tease and laugh at.

I was prepared to deny that request. I knew, in my heart, it was probably better in the longterm for my mental health that I did what made me happy and not them. But then I made the mistake of looking down at my bag. My diaper bag, as Ms. Heller had called it earlier. I could see the edge of one of the diapers poking out from the top of it. I bent over and grabbed it, pulling it free from the bag so I could hold it in my hands. It crinkled in my fingers as I pressed into the thick padding.

I wished I had more self control. Alas, I did not, and I returned to the kitchen table with a diaper on under my pants.

“Well?” Lyndie asked, almost immediately. “Did you put one on?”

I shrugged, wondering how long I could remain coy about it. “Maybe.”

But then I sat down, and in the eerie sudden quiet of the kitchen, the tell-tale rustling of my plasticked pants seemed to echo through the whole apartment. There was their answer.

“Show him,” Lyndie said.

“What? But…I…”

“No, he doesn’t actually have to show me anything,” Evan said. A surprisingly diplomatic thought for a guy who helped pressure me into putting a diaper on in the first place.

“But don’t you see?” asked Lyndie. “We’re not making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. We’re enabling him. He’s turning into a little humiliation addict. And he loves that. Right, Clark?”

I sighed. “It’d probably be dangerous for me to answer that question honestly.” Which was probably the same thing as just agreeing with her, but it was too late to fix that.

I tried to think ahead to what the worst case scenario would be after revealing all of my secrets to Evan. Him, exploiting me and holding these secrets over my head? Manipulation? Somewhere, deep within my consciousness, I felt the slightest twitch of pleasure.

“You don’t have to show me anything,” Evan said again, laughing. “I definitely believe that you’re wearing a diaper.”

But it was too late. Lyndie had either put the idea of showing him my diaper in my head, or she had just amplified a much smaller idea that I already had.

“Fine,” I said, pretending like I had somehow been coerced into this action. “I’ll show you.”

I stood up from my chair, that shameful crinkling sound following me as I did, and I stepped back from the table to give both a better view. I wanted to say something–maybe some sort of self-deprecating remark that would show that I’m in on the joke instead of just being the joke. Instead, I just grabbed the sides of my pants and shoved them downwards. There it was, once more, my giant white diaper was once more on display.

Evan’s eyes widened. “I’ll be damned. That’s a diaper alright.”

“But you should take your pants off,” Lyndie said with a shrug.

“Off?” I exclaimed. “Have you not seen enough?”

“Well, we’ve seen it all now,” she said. “So there’s no reason to hide it, right? Besides, haven’t you ever been to a house with a baby in it? And the parents let the baby crawl around in just its diaper? Maybe it saves money on laundry detergent or something.”

“They probably just want to keep an eye on the baby’s diaper,” Evan added. “So they can be the first to know when there’s an accident.”

“Oh my god, speaking of…” exclaimed Lyndie. I wasn’t even sure, yet, what she was going to say, but I already knew it was going to obliterate any remaining traces of my dignity. “...Gabrielle told me the craziest thing today while she was checking in on Baby Clark’s diaper.”

“Oh?” asked an amused Evan.

“Apparently, she made him poop his pants in her office.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that right?” Lyndie asked me.

“Are you asking me for details?”

“Just confirmation that it happened,” she replied with a smug smile.

“It happened.”

Evan and Lyndie both laughed.

“So you’re, like, all in on this baby thing, huh?” Evan asked.

I shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“Well then I agree with Lyndie. Take off your pants and leave them off, Baby.”

[Babypants]

What, he asks, will Clark's starting salary come to?  And does his new position come with a benefits package, in addition to the fringe benefits?  Perhaps he will be able to afford an apartment of his own (assuming that his boss does not have a nursery at home waiting for his immersion in full-time babyhood).  He who laughs last ...

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Twelve

We were all trying to tread the thin line between just being a bunch of young adults hanging out and being a group of semi-strangers who were all connected by the knowledge of my humiliation fetish.

For one, it felt good to have ‘friends,’ even if I wasn’t sure if that was the word I wanted to use. For this time, and any time after this, I’d be wondering if they actually wanted to spend time with me or if they just wanted to see me embarrass myself. And, of course, I didn’t mind a little bit of humiliation in the name of fun. But…I could use some friends.

For a moment, we had managed to get past my diapers and we were just talking. Three pals, talking about movies.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell chime echoed through the apartment.

“That’s probably the pizza,” I said.

“Are you going to get the door?” Lyndie asked me.

“Me? No way. Not like this.”

“Oh come on,” she pleaded. “It’s not going to hurt anyone. The delivery guy doesn’t know who you are. It’ll be funny.”

“Yeah, but…”

Ding-dong.

“You better do it soon, though,” Evan added. “Don’t want the pizza-man to think we’re not home.”

I kept hoping that Evan would be the voice of reason and would step forward to shield me from Lyndie’s attempts at humiliation. But no. He seemed to be squarely on her side.

“You really want me to answer the door?” I asked. “Like this?”

They both offered a confident nod. I was outvoted. Could I have said no? Could I have refused? Probably. But did I? Of course not.

Ding-dong. This poor and impatient delivery man.

“I’m coming!” I shouted at the door.

I shuffled my way towards the front door without any further pleading needed from the others. The thick diaper crinkling loudly without my pants in place to help muffle the noise. I took a deep breath as I grasped the door knob. Alright, here we go…

The door opened and there she was. She.

“I, uh, got your food,” the young woman said, slowly pushing the box towards me.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered, quickly taking it.

She was taking a moment to study me, taking in the whole picture. “Okay, well…you have a good night.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You too.”

And I’d never forget the smirk I saw on her face as I closed the door. Her eyes were filled with an eager amusement–wherever she was going next, she couldn’t wait to tell this story.

But out of sight, out of mind. The door was closed, Pizza-Girl was gone, and it was almost guaranteed that I’d never know the ramifications of being exposed to her in my diaper.

“Was that as awkward as it sounded?” Lyndie asked when I returned to the kitchen.

“Probably even more than you can imagine,” I said, plopping the box of pizza onto the table. I sat back down in my chair with another comical poof of powder-scented air being forced out of the padding.

Pizza and beer served as the great uniter, and for a few minutes we forgot about diapers. Just bullshitting and laughing together with other humans was refreshing, and it occurred to me that both Lyndie and Evan needed this just as much as I did. The misfits–the lone wolf, the shut-in, and the baby–we were all getting a little reprieve from the everyday.

And then I had to pee.

I couldn’t just tell them that I needed to go to the bathroom. I already knew what the response to that would be–they’d expect me to use the diaper. Truthfully, I already knew that I’d be using the diaper. The question was whether or not I’d tell them that I was.

I decided to say nothing and just do it. My body, it seemed, had become more comfortable with following through on my brain’s perverse requests. It was almost too easy to simply decide that I’d wet the diaper, and for my body to respond by immediately relaxing my control over my bladder. The warmth quickly enveloped the front of the diaper and began to spread under my bottom. The once-fluffy padding congealed into something denser. I briefly looked down between my legs, noting the obvious change in appearance the diaper had taken on. It was one thing to have the color change from white to yellow. But there was something incredibly obvious about just the wetness alone–the shamefulness overwrote any cuteness a dry diaper had.

We stayed at the table for a while longer, just chatting. Eating. Drinking. I began to suspect that everyone had forgotten about the diaper. Even when Evan excused himself to use the bathroom, I expected that to trigger Lyndie into asking me how my diaper was holding up. And I wanted her to ask. I wanted to coyly hint at what I had done until she made me show her my diaper. But alas, it wasn’t a talking point. And after a while, even I forgot about the wet diaper.

“Well, look,” Evan said, dropping an empty can of beer onto the table–his third, by my estimation. “This has been fun. But I have absolutely maxed out my social batteries. Maybe for the year. I need to go lie down for a bit. No offense to anyone here, of course. Even you, Baby Clark.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Lyndie nodded, seeming to understand where he was coming from. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Next time I come over, you’ll hang out with us again?”

“You’re coming back?” he asked.

She laughed. “I’d bet on it.”

“Then, absolutely, I will.” And he got up from the table and returned to his room, closing the door behind him.

“And then there were two,” she said. “How's that diaper holding up?”

There it was. That was the question I had been waiting for. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or upset that Evan had left before we got back to the discussion of my diaper.

“It might have seen better days,” I said.

I expected her to immediately want to see the damage, but she showed restraint. She just smiled, sipping at whatever was left in her current beer can. “Oh yeah?” she said. “You just…wet yourself while we were all talking?”

I nodded.

“Was that hard to do?”

“It was easier than it should’ve been.”

“Do you worry that you’ll ever get so used to diapers that you’ll be, like, un-potty trained?”

I grimaced a little. “I hadn’t thought about that before. I don’t think so. Is that a thing?”

She shrugged. “No idea. I guess it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it were, right? If you were using diapers that often anyways, what does it matter if you actually just needed to keep wearing them.”

“Probably true,” I said. “Though I doubt your body ever just…forgets how to hold it.”

“For your sake, I hope not. It’s one thing to poop your pants because your boss tells you to. It’s another to poop your pants in the middle of, like, getting your haircut because you can’t hold it.”

I swallowed hard, dreading such a scenario. “Well…I guess I should be thankful that I still have control over that sort of thing. Diapers or not.”

She had a look on her face–a look I had seen before, in The Closet. It was a mischievous look. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I said with some hesitancy.

“Does it feel good? The wet diaper?”

I nodded. “It does.”

“Do you remember the other day?” she asked. “The first time you showed me the diaper and you wet it in front of me?”

I could feel my face warming at her words. “Y-yes.”

“You got hard in your diaper,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Just a memory. A recalled observation.

I nodded again. “I…I know.”

“Does it make you hard now? Sitting there in your pissy diaper?”

I took a deep breath, nervous about where this conversation would be going. Should I be honest? Was there any reason not to be completely honest? Because up until that point, I had managed to keep my hormones at bay. I wanted to be horny about the state of my diaper, but I knew well enough to keep that to myself for the time being. But with the figurative cat out of the figurative bag, and a giant spotlight on it, I lost the ability to keep my arousal internalized. My cock was springing to life in my diaper–seemingly summoned by her question.

“It’s…exciting,” I said.

She laughed. “I keep thinking about Gabrielle changing your diaper in The Closet today. Like, I just keep replaying everything that I saw in my head.”

“Yeah…you saw some pretty crazy stuff,” I said. “Up close and personal. And you, uh, weren’t scared off?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no.” For a moment, it seemed like that was all she had to say about it, but then she added: “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“I really liked it.” she said.

“What, uh, did you like about it?” My cock was fully erect in the diaper now, and in the Mission Control portion of my brain, the horny-meter was off the charts.

“There was something about Gabrielle’s ability to just…lead, right? She just effortlessly waltzed in and made an adult man take his pants off so she could change his diaper. It’s totally absurd, but she never treated it like it was. I dunno…I guess I had just never seen anything like it before. It was hot.”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah…it was hot.”

“Like…putting a man into a diaper is weird. I think we can agree on that,” she said. “Being made to wear and use a diaper is weird.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“But, damn,” she said. “I just keep thinking about it. You. Diapers. Using them. Getting changed. It’s grown on me. I really like the idea of it. All of it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I…I can relate to that.” But her admission, while not completely surprising, was still curious to me. “Do you…want to try a diaper on?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Oh,” I said, feeling a little silly for having asked.

“But,” she said, “I’d be interested in changing yours.”

“Oh.” I felt that revelation in my bones. I blushed while my cock throbbed.

“I’m not saying that I want to now. Just that…I like the idea of it. I think.”

I nodded. I was feeling overwhelmed–mostly with the need to reach into my diaper and grab my cock.

“But you’re hard now?” she asked. She had asked that before, but it occurred to me that I hadn’t really given a clear answer.

“Yes.” It didn’t get any more definitive than that.

“May I see?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Come here,” she said.

And this was what I needed. It was what I always needed–a strong woman to tell me what to do. I gladly did as she asked, sliding off my chair and onto my feet, my soggy diaper immediately sagging between my legs as I cautiously waddled to her seat.

“Oh wow,” she said, reaching to the diaper, feeling the heavy bulge that hung below me. “You really filled this up, huh?”

I nodded.

“Mommy would love this.”

I winced–not from pain, but just an overwhelming sense of desire. I loved the idea of Lyndie inspecting my dirty diaper with the intent of telling Ms. Heller–Mommy–all about what I had done.

“Should I tell her?” she asked.

I nodded.

“What do you think she’d do?”

I shrugged, honestly having no idea. Would she punish me? Take me over her knees to paddle me like a toddler? Or would she just tease me until I came in my diaper for her again?

Though, this reminded me of Mommy’s threat of chastity. The intense sexual energy I felt in my diapers and while being babied, and it would have nowhere to go after she got her device on me.

“She wants to lock me up,” I said.

“Hmm?”

“Like…chastity.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up again. “Is she threatening to put you in cock jail?”

I nodded.

Her hand was still on the sagging diaper, and she gave it a little squeeze, forcing a moan out of me. Her hand ventured up the saturated padding until she found the long lump that was my stiff manhood.

“She must think that you like your diapers too much, huh?”

“M-maybe…”

“Is that going to be hard for you?” she asked. “Pun intended. All locked up and no place to go?”

Her hand tightened on my diapered cock, and she began to stroke me through the padding. “Yes… Very.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’d be like,” she said softly, talking directly to my diaper as she leaned forward. “Your pretty Mommy will be touching your diaper, just like I am now, and you’ll want to have a little stiffy so badly. But you’ll have been denied.”

I intended to say something in the affirmative, but I offered only a pleasured grunt.

“I can smell your diaper,” she said. “It smells like pee.”

“Unh,” another pathetic moan as she continued to work my cock through the diaper.

“Is it bad that I like you in your wet diapers?”

“N-no…”

“Is it bad that I want to see you getting off while wearing a much stinkier diaper?”

“You mean, like…”

“Like if you were a smelly baby who went and pooped his pants?”

“No,” I said. “That isn’t bad.”

“You’re a good baby, aren’t you?” she cooed.

“I…I hope so,” I muttered between labored breaths. Her hand was working magic through the plastic padding.

“Mommy has such a good little boy, doesn’t she?”

“I…uhm…yes.” I would say that I was getting close, but it was probably already past that point. It was already happening.

I was coming in my diaper right in front of her.

I obviously couldn’t see my own face, but I could feel it contorting and stretching. I could only imagine how ridiculously pathetic I looked as I spurted my sticky load into the already-saturated padding.

After my moans had faded away, and we spent a few moments in silence to reflect on what had just occurred, she laughed to herself while looking up at me.

“Oops,” she said, playfully.

I sighed, a feeling of deep shame surging through my body to fill the void left by the dissipating pleasure.

I bit my bottom lip, debating whether or not I took a shot at further escalating this evening.

“Yes?” she asked, noting the gears turning in my head.

“Did you want to…like, change my diaper?”

She laughed, though it didn’t feel mocking. Maybe a little condescending, but in that maternal sort of way that Mommy was also good at. You silly baby, she seemed to say.

“Tempting. Maybe next time we play, I get your Mommy’s permission first?”

I nodded, my heart aflutter at the thought of her needing Mommy’s permission. It made me feel…owned. Goddamn, did I need to feel owned. Controlled. I knew what I really needed.

First thing in the morning, I’d ask Mommy for my chastity cage.

 

[D503]

Sizzling! The Lyndie/mommy dynamic will be very interesting - perhaps fraught with jealousy - hopefully she gets her number and maybe takes a few photos.

[Anton]

Very interesting new chapter. Nicely written story, compelling idea and wonderfully playful! Great job so far.

[therende]

Great story, you've hit all my hot buttons

[maly]

Wow hot!

Maly.

[quietlyhumiliated]

Thirteen

Memo to all employees: A pink baby’s pacifier was found yesterday in a 4th floor hallway. We assume it belongs to one of you fine parents who works for our organization. We’d hate to throw away your infant’s pacifier, and so if you feel you may have accidentally dropped one please stop by the main reception desk on the first floor to claim it.

Thank you!

—

I made the morning waddle across the sea of cubicles once more, a freshly flooded diaper hanging off my bottom. I had changed out of the previous night’s dirty diaper not long after Lyndie had left, and I had vowed to keep the new diaper clean for as long as I could. That lasted until I got onto the train.

The diaper’s moisture was still warm. It felt good on my skin.

“Right on time,” Ms. Heller said as I walked into her office. “A punctual baby is a good baby.”

I was thinking about lasagne on the train ride. A strange thing to think about–especially after wetting a diaper and having to sit in it. But I recalled how, when I was a kid, I loved lasagne. Yet when I wasn’t eating it, and I just thought about it, it was hard to recall what set it apart from similar dishes that I knew I didn’t have as strong feelings about. Stuffed shells. Manicotti. Even a bowl of spaghetti. What made lasagne, in particular, so amazing?

But I would instantly remember the reason when a plate of lasagne was sitting in front of me. It wasn’t just the ingredients–the same ingredients shared with many other dishes my mother and grandmother made. It was the arrangement of the ingredients. It was the way that every bite had the perfect proportion of each ingredient.

When I wasn’t around Ms. Heller, I could think about how gorgeous she was. How naughty her imagination was. How amazing she made me feel. But stepping into her office again, I was reminded that the experience of being in the same place as Mommy was something that my memories had a tough time conveying.

It was the way she talked, and her use of tones. It was her body language. The way she looked at me. There was just something about her aura that I couldn’t fully appreciate unless I was in the same room as her.

I closed the door behind me, already feeling myself practically melting in her presence.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Here for your morning change?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She said nothing and just lifted her eyebrows. I realized my error.

“Yes, Mommy,” I said.

“I got a changing pad,” she said, pulling a folded mat out from her closet. “It’s not the office nursery I’d like, but it’s a good start. Off with the shoes and pants, Baby.”

She walked out from behind her desk as she unfurled the pad into the center of the office floor–probably the exact spot I had previously messed myself at her request. Meanwhile, I quickly kicked off my shoes, not even bothering to untie them, and shoved my black slacks to the ground before stepping out of them.

“Very soggy,” she observed. “You did good to come to Mommy.”

Her approval meant everything to me. It was a small dopamine hit on top of the countless other hits I got from being in the same room with her.

I didn’t need her to tell me what to do next, I knew what was expected of a baby like me. I lowered myself to the ground, laying down on the changing pad so that she could change my diaper.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked.

My heart raced. I wonder if she knew about Lyndie coming over to my house. Did Lyndie text her? Was there some sort of secret conversation that took place in Mommy’s office this morning before I stopped in?

“It was, uhm, good,” I said, bracing myself for further inquisition.

“Good,” she said as she returned to her cabinet of baby supplies.

I took a deep breath, realizing I was being overly paranoid. There hadn’t been secret meetings or communications between Lyndie and Ms. Heller.

“Are you using your diapers at home?” she asked me.

“Y-yes,” I said. “Some.”

“Some?”

I hadn’t really thought about it as just being in diapers 24/7. Once I got home, I had options. I had the option to use the toilet if I wanted to. But now that I was laying here, waiting for my diaper to be changed, it occurred to me that it had been a few days since I last used a toilet at all. Regardless of what I could do, I was wearing–and using–my diapers full time now.

“Actually,” I said, “it’s been nothing but diapers for the last few days.”

“Are you content with that?”

“Yes,” I said, with a speedy confidence that surprised even myself.

“We need to make sure you don’t run out of diapers, then,” she said.

“Should I get more?”

“I’ve already taken care of that for you,” she said. “I pulled your address from your HR file and I have an order ready to go. You should be getting a sizable delivery very soon.”

“Th-thank you,” I said, quickly adding: “Mommy.”

I imagined that it would be Evan intercepting the delivery. For as uncertain as I was about involving him in my weird new world the night before, I was now glad that he had a heads up before he came in contact with god-knows how many boxes of adult diapers.

“We have some things to discuss today,” she said, closing the cabinet and walking back to me, arms full of supplies.

“Okay.”

“First thing’s first–have you given any thought to my job offer?”

“Yes. I mean… Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. And, how are you feeling about it?”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “I…I would very much like to be your assistant.”

She grinned, softly stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. “I am so very pleased to hear that, Clark. I don’t think you’ll regret this decision. I’ll have all the arrangements made for you today.”

Her excitement about my decision only empowered me, and I was feeling good about pleasing her.

Her hands were on my diaper, and she quickly pulled up the tapes before peeling back the front of the diaper, letting it flop onto the ground with a wet SQUISH sound.

“This is more than a job,” she said. “It's a commitment to being my baby. I do want to make sure we’re on the same page about that.”

“Yes, Mommy,” I said. “Please.”

“You’ll do as I ask? Always?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

For the first time, I noticed what she was holding–a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. Women’s shaving cream, ‘Raspberry Haze’ scented, per the can’s label.

“We’ve talked about this before,” she said, “but I feel it’s important that we get rid of all this silly hair in your diaper area. It’s just going to get in the way. Besides, it doesn’t seem right for someone being kept in a diaper.”

I blushed at the mention of ‘diaper area,’ though I still nodded. I had forgotten about that conversation, but I didn’t disagree that the hair should go. Truthfully, I found the idea kind of exciting. She was leaving her mark on me, albeit temporarily–or until the next time she shaved away my pubic hair. Anytime after this moment, when I was to look at or feel my crotch, I’d be reminded of what she did to me.

She spread the pink cream over my dark brambley hair, covering it all. The scent–vaguely sweet and berry-ish–wafted to my nose as she let it sit for a moment as she prepared the razor.

Chastity, I thought. I need to ask her about chastity. This seemed like a good time to do it, I just needed to work up the courage to get the words out.

“My previous assistant,” she said. “Hillary?”

It occurred to me that I was feeling a pinch of jealousy when I heard that name. It was no fault of Hillary’s, I would expect their relationship to leave lasting memories with Ms. Heller. I just hoped that one day, I’d surpass however it was that Hillary made her feel.

“She got a tattoo, you know. Right here,” she continued, poking the patch of foam-coated pubic hair above my limp cock. “Well she didn’t have quite the same apparatus as you, but you know what I mean.”

I nodded. “What…sort of tattoo?”

“A pink heart,” she said. “It said ‘Mommy’ inside of it. Wasn’t that sweet? A permanent tribute to her Mommy, right on her little girl parts.”

I swallowed hard and my heart began to race. “Y-yes. Very cute.”

She laughed, likely noticing how nervous this story had made me. “I’m not asking you to get a tattoo for me. Not now, not ever. Unless you want to, of course. But that’s your prerogative. No, I’m telling you this story because I want you to know that this commitment goes both ways. You’re becoming my baby. I’m becoming your Mommy. I want you to feel so well cared for and happy that you could one day see yourself making such a permanent gesture of thanks for me without doubting it.”

I loved the sentiment, though I was curious about how Hillary felt about her tattoo now. Or her husband, for that matter. A tattoo that reads ‘Mommy’ just above her pussy wouldn’t ever be an easy thing to have to explain to anyone else.

The head of the razor was lowered onto my skin, and she began to pull it through my hair. It was that easy. No pain or burning or anything like that. Just the softest, slightest, movements and suddenly the hair was gone. One strip at a time, she reduced the pubic hair’s acreage. And then it was all gone. Bare empty skin. I hadn’t seen such a thing since I was, maybe, 12 years old. It was a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but it was an effective one. She had just removed years from my age, even if we were the only ones who knew it. For now.

She cleaned off the last remnants of cut hair and shaving cream with a baby wipe, while smiling at her handiwork. I smiled too, happy to have made a small sacrifice for her.

“Have you made any stinkies lately?” she asked.

My cheeks turned pink. I disliked the term ‘stinkies,’ though I could imagine that was exactly why she used a word like that.

“N-no, Mommy.”

“How long has it been?”

“Not since…here. In your office.”

“The day before yesterday? Clark, that’s not good at all. Not even at home? In your potty?”

Potty. I felt my cheeks warm further. I shook my head.

“You must be bursting at the seams.”

Except I didn’t think that I was. Sure, the feeling had crept up once or twice in the last day or two, but I had somehow been able to stave off the urges. But now that I was thinking about it again…I could feel some pressure down there. Maybe it was an easier thing to put off when I wasn’t thinking about it. It had been masked by the stress of humiliation–both at the hands of Mommy and Lyndie.

“I…well…”

“No excuses, Baby. You’re going to have to start filling these diapers up, do you understand? Not just your pee-pees. I expect you to be doing your poo-poos in them too.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“I can’t watch you 24/7, Clark. So I need you to be a good boy who uses his diapers for Mommy.”

I nodded again.

“Alright, let’s get you into a new diaper.”

I already had my pacifier in my hand. I didn’t put it in my bag this morning–I put it in my pocket. I slipped the rubber bulb between my lips, noting her approving nod. Such was the routine for a diaper change, as I had been previously advised.

The old soggy blob was pulled out from under me. Already able to anticipate what she needed from me, I kept my legs open for her, giving her access to wipe up my bottom and between my legs.

And then it happened–her fingertip pressing into my backdoor. She had done this once before while changing my diaper. And as I had the last time, I let out a little moan as I felt her finger enter my ass.

But it felt…different. I couldn’t exactly say how this experience differed from the first time, but there was definitely some sort of variance.

“Baby likes his bottom being played with,” she said to herself. “Believe me, I can’t wait to spend more time with that.”

I said nothing, just biting down on the pacifier.

“I should be honest with you, Baby,” she said. “I’ve put something into you.”

I opened my mouth, letting the pacifier roll out of it and onto the floor. “Wh-what do you mean…into me?”

“I can’t have you toddling about with uncomfortable bowels. It’s not good for you. So I slipped something into your bottom to help take care of that.”

“What…was it?”

“A suppository,” she said, maintaining her evergreen sense of calm. “I keep some on hand for such situations. Hillary would get a little backed up sometimes, and she’d need some help.”

“I don’t know anything about suppositories, Ms. Heller. Er…Mommy. What’s going to happen? Is it going to…hurt?”

She laughed. “Silly baby, not at all. You may feel some cramping, but that’s just the suppository doing its job. Now, the package says it can take up to an hour to work, but in my experience, it’s usually a bit less.”

“But what happens after an hour?”

“You go,” she said. “In your case, you’ll go directly into your diaper. Probably fill the whole thing up, too.”

“B-but, Mommy…I’m at work and…”

“And I suspect you’ll be in your little broom closet when it happens. And then you’ll just come scurry over here so that I can change you. You’ll be fine.”

“But…”

“It’s too late to complain about it,” she said. “It’s in you. It’s working its magic on you as we speak. And when the time comes–regardless of where you are or what you’re doing–you’re going to fill that diaper and bring it back to me so that I can clean you up. And maybe then you’ll have learned a little lesson about making poo-poos in your diaper more regularly.”

I had more to say. More to ask. More to whine, really. But I sighed and kept my mouth shut, reaching to the side to grab my pacifier so I could put it back in my mouth again. There was no discussion to be had. She was going to do what she wanted to do, and I would let her. That’s just the way these things were going to work now.

“It’ll be easier soon,” she said, as she unfolded a fresh diaper, flattening it out on the ground. “You’ll be sitting closer to my office. You’ll be seeing me more throughout the day as my assistant. Things like diaper checks and changes will just be part of our routine.”

It all seemed impossible to grasp at this moment, as all I could really focus on was the inevitability of loading my diaper sometime soon. I took the pacifier out of my mouth again.

“Could I just stay here? Until I used my diaper? You know, like I did the other morning?”

“No can do, Baby. I have a meeting here in about ten minutes. Once I’m done, I’ll let you know. If you haven’t popped yet, you’re welcome to come back and do your business here. But if it happens before my meeting is out…well, you’ll just have to wait a few minutes.”

What else was there to say? “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. Now then, let’s get this diaper on you.”

Soon, I was waddling back towards The Closet with a fresh diaper on. Smelling like a fresh burst of baby powder. A suppository shoved up my backside that turned me into a bomb that could go off at any moment.

I didn’t think I felt any different. Yet. But how would I know when I felt anything? What would that be like?

“Good morning, Baby,” Lyndie cooed to me as I strolled into The Closet. Funny how I had been called ‘Baby’ more than ‘Clark’ today.

I shut the door and locked it.

“You ok?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

“I have to tell you something,” I said. “But…it’s kind of crazy. And gross.”

She laughed. “Crazier than wearing diapers for your boss? Crazier than wearing a diaper in front of the pizza delivery girl? Crazier than me pleasuring you in your diaper until…”

“Yes,” I said, cutting her off. “Probably.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was just over at Mommy…er…Ms. Heller’s office.”

“Was she changing your diaper?” Lyndie asked.

I was blushing. Again. “Y-yes. But while she was doing it she…put something in me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. She put something in you?”

“Like…her finger,” I said. “She put her finger in me and…”

“Oh, like up your bum?” she asked. She giggled. “Clark, that’s okay. It’s good to explore your body, you know? Don’t get upset if you never knew how good it felt to be touched there. I had this boyfriend once who…”

“No, no,” I said. “I mean…yes…I guess I liked that or whatever, but that’s not what I’m trying to tell you. She was pushing an object into my ass.”

“Object? A…toy?”

“Suppository,” I said.

She looked confused, and I watched her try to piece together what that meant. “Wait, but don’t people use them when they need to… Oh.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“So…you’re going to…”

“I don’t know when. All I know is that sometime soon…I’m going to…go. In my diaper.”

“And she didn’t want you to do that in her office?”

“She has a meeting.”

“So she expected you to just…do that here?”

I nodded.

“You’re going to shit your diaper here?”

I nodded again. “It has to happen here. I have to stay right here until it happens. I can’t go anywhere else, because I can’t risk anybody else seeing it happen.”

The smile had faded from her face a little as she nodded. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Maybe… I don’t want to ask too much. But maybe I could just get some privacy? Like, maybe you could leave for a little bit and come back later? I could let you know when it's done. I just don’t think I want to do this in front of you. Nor do I think you want to see me use my diaper like that.”

But suddenly the smile was back on her face again. “Are you kidding me, Clark? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m staying right here with you.”

[kirababy]

Go Lindie.  LOL  like she'd leave this for a million bucks.

[eliminster]

I'm Kinda hoping Lindie either gets a Daddy and gets to experience this or gets caught pleasuring him in his messy diaper by mommy heller and made into a slightly older sister with both of them in chastity. Him in diapers her in pullups and expected to watch him sometimes but still be subjected to some of the fun too.

 

[D503]

Awesome chapter. I love how she already pre-ordered the diapers for him, then confirmed his commitment before shaving him and then dropping the bomb-shell.

[aldl4811]

One of the best chapters yet!

[quietlyhumiliated]

Hey friends, thanks so much for continuing to read this story, liking it, and commenting on it. It all helps to further motivate me. Just a lil reminder that I post new chapters on my Patreon a few weeks before posting them publicly on platforms like this. RIght now, my patrons are reading Chapter 18 - which is also the end of this current arc of the story. But plenty more is on the way, of course.

 

Fourteen

“How long has it been?”

“Fifteen minutes,” I said, checking the time on my phone.

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. If I feel even the slightest twitch in my gut, I can’t decide if it’s from the suppository or it’s just a normal feeling that I’m hyper-focused on.”

She laughed and shook her head.

“What?” I asked. “What is so funny?”

“Oh come on,” Lyndie said. “You don’t see the humor in all this?”

“Not from this vantage point, no.”

“Like, could you even imagine going up to another person in this office and demanding that they take off their pants so their boss can shove a suppository up their ass? And then they have to wear a diaper and shit themself in a building with hundreds of employees? Nobody would ever agree to that. Just asking someone that question would probably get them to quit.”

That was a little amusing to me. “And then there was me.”

“And then there was you,” she repeated. “You probably stuck your ass up into the air as high as you possibly could and begged for it. ‘Mommy, put it in my little tushy!’”

“Well that didn’t happen…”

“That’s how it played out in my imagination,” she said.

Mine too, though I didn’t say that. I felt a stirring somewhere in my abdomen. Different enough that it didn’t seem ‘normal.’ Maybe the first definitive sign that the suppository was doing its thing. I sighed and bit my bottom lip, nervous about how things would escalate from here.

“You’re too tense,” Lyndie said casually, sipping from her coffee cup.

“I don’t suppose you could blame me,” I said. “I’m just an unknown amount of time away from pooping my pants at work.”

“But this is what you want,” she said.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, not intending to say that out loud. I decided I might as well finish that thought out loud: “Right now? I’m terrified and worried. I just know how crushing this humiliation is going to feel. But later, in hindsight? I’ll probably feel pretty good about it all.”

“And you’ll want it again,” she said.

“Yeah. Probably.”

Another gurgle in my tummy. Intestines? I wasn’t even sure what the point of origin was, only that it happened in there somewhere. Things were happening.

Knock knock. Someone at the door. My first thought was that it was Ms. Heller. Having finished her meeting early, she came to fetch me and bring me back to her office, sparing me the humiliation of having to use this diaper anywhere else in the building.

But when I unlocked and opened the door, I was disappointed to see that it was only Anderson.

“Was the door locked?” he asked. “What the hell are you two doing in here?”

“The door gets…jammed sometimes,” I said.

When I had first started my internship here, Anderson seemed older and wiser to me. It was like being a freshman in high school and walking past the seniors. They seemed infinitely more mature in a way that I just couldn’t ever imagine being myself. But sooner or later you realized that they were just kids too, and none of you had any idea what being an adult was.

Anderson was just a young scrappy punk himself. The lowest man on the corporate totem pole.

He walked into The Closet, arms crossed in front of him.

“Hey,” Lyndie said, nodding towards him. “What's up? Got some filing for us or something?”

“I’ll tell you ‘what’s up,’” he spat. He stuck a frustrated finger out towards me. “Why did I just hear that you’re getting a full-time job here?”

“Well…I was offered it, and…”

“How?” he hissed. “How did a lowly fucking intern get offered a full-time position as the assistant for the CEO of our company? I scour the available positions every single morning in the hopes of finding a chance to move up the ranks. And you? You do absolutely nothing but are somehow getting handed a position that I’d have killed for?”

Lyndie looked to me and shrugged. “Wow. Word sure does travel fast around here.”

Anderson scoffed, maybe feeling annoyed that Lyndie was carrying on her own conversation with me instead of directly talking to him. “So how did you do it, huh? Is your father Charles Arnold? Maybe you’re somehow related to Gregory Connors?”

I had no idea who those people were, and I just shrugged.

“Did you sleep with her?” he said. “Is that what it was? Did she handpick some young little intern to manipulate into the sack?”

“Be careful,” Lyndie said. “You’re making some pretty intense accusations.”

I felt a cramp in my gut. A roiling ache that seemed to herald worse things. Please don’t fill your diaper while he’s here, I pleaded with myself.

“I just want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do to get ahead,” Anderson said, throwing his arms up into the air. “Apparently even the interns have more clout than I do now.”

Lyndie and I looked at each other, sharing the tiniest, knowing, smile. The answer? Probably something like: Just be willing to wear a diaper.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have control over how these things work.”

Another painful cramp. After being uncertain about whether or not I was feeling the effects of the suppository, there was no doubt now. Once it started to take hold of me, things seemed to escalate quickly. I was very aware of the near-sudden intense pressure in my bowels. I could hold it, for now, but I was acutely aware that I might not have this level of control for much longer.

“Well? Should I go down to HR myself?” he asked. “Ask them to look into how an intern manages to be offered a job that I wasn’t even aware of?”

“Clark’s not your enemy,” Lyndie said.

A tiny poot escaped my bottom, mostly muffled by the thick diaper in my pants. I felt my cheeks warm at the uncontrollable burst. I doubted anyone else in the small room knew it even happened, but I knew this was just the beginning. Soon, I’d need to do a lot worse.

“What about you?” Anderson said, steering his accusatory finger to Lyndie instead. “Are you getting promoted too? Are you the new CFO? Vice President of Transportation?”

It was probably a bad time to mention that Ms. Heller had offered a possible position for her as well.

“Maybe you should talk to HR,” Lyndie said. “Take your grievances up with them.”

I wished I had the ability to say anything at all, but my lips were clenched shut and my body had become as stiff as a board. It was taking all of my energy to hold my bowels at bay. My body craved release, and I knew it was all over as soon as I let down my guard–and that guard was weakening.

Anderson shook his head. “Fine.” He spun on his heel and stormed out from our small office, slamming the door shut behind him.

“God, what the hell is up his ass?” Lyndie said immediately after, laughing to herself.

I said nothing, focused on only what my next move was going to be. Just about any move, it seemed, would spell disaster for my diaper. Such was the point, I supposed. Yet I still held out hope for a call from Ms. Heller. Mommy. She’d ask me to come down to her office, and I’d be spared the shameful walk across the office in a full diaper.

Fuck. It might have been too late for that now. Could I actually make that trip while clenching my ass this tightly?

“You okay?” asked Lyndie.

“I… I think I have to let go soon,” I said.

It was as if she had forgotten about my situation for a moment. “Huh?” And then: “Oh, right. That. That’s…happening? Soon?”

I slowly nodded.

“We both know where it’s all going to end up eventually,” she said with a shrug. “You could probably save yourself some discomfort by…just letting go.”

She wasn’t wrong. But the stinky trek across the building to Mommy’s office was still a discomfort I’d need to endure. But, yes, it was an entirely separate discomfort.

Fine. I was convinced. I needed to unload.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m really sorry about this.”

For the last twenty minutes or so, in the back of my mind, I had been trying to imagine what this moment would look like. Did I just stand there and let it happen? Did I bend over, sticking my ass into the air? Squat?

But as it turned out, any amount of thinking would have been too much. In the moment, my body just did what it needed to do. Instinctually. My legs separated as I squatted down a little. It didn’t matter that Lyndie was there, or that she even existed for that matter. In this moment, reality was just me and my diaper.

My bottom opened with an immediate and forceful load being unleashed into the diaper with a loud FWOMP. The back of the diaper expanded as far as it could in my pants–pants that were clearly never intended to hold a full diaper. Moments later, the next wave came–a sticky-sounding bubbling ripple that attempted to further fill the diaper. Vacancy was already limited, and I felt the soft mass squeezing itself anywhere it could. And then came another wave. And another after that, pathetic final squirts paired with uncontrollable grunts as I fought through the last of the cramps. Two days without using a toilet, combined with the suppository–I could only imagine the hell contained within my pants.

I don’t know how long I remained in that position. Maybe a minute. Maybe a few years.

“All done?” Lyndie finally asked from somewhere behind me.

I forgot she was there. I forgot where I was.

“I…I think so.”

“Are you…okay?” she asked. She sounded concerned.

I was checking my emotional pulse. Am I okay? I was fine. That was a lot, and most of it would go unprocessed for a while yet. I was also…disappointed. Not in myself, really. But in Lyndie’s reaction. She wanted to care for me and make sure I was alright. I absolutely appreciated that, and it was a surprising turn for The Lone Wolf. But I didn’t want to be coddled. I wanted to be humiliated and shamed.

I wanted to be destroyed.

“I’m okay,” I said, standing up straight. The heavy diaper wanted to sag, but remained pressed against me in my pants. I could feel the mess squishing and shifting within as I moved.

“Good,” she said, laughing. Some edge had returned to her voice. “Because you fucking stink.”

“Well…”

“I know,” she said, possibly reading my mind again. “I just watched it happen.”

That’s the stuff. Not that I could moan in delight or smile about it. I was very much mortified and embarrassed beyond belief. Still, I was at least able to shove this moment into my pocket. For later.

“Oh…shit,” was all that I could muster, the reality of what I had just done only just beginning to sink in.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she remarked. “I literally watched the back of your pants change shape.” She laughed, a shrill and candid giggle that I wouldn’t have expected from her–perhaps a sign that she was truly that delighted by what she had just seen.

My hands reached around my body to my backside, where I felt the lump in my pants where my diaper was. It all felt incredibly obvious to me–both the diaper and the extra lumpy part of it that most of my mess was packed into.

“Probably feels better out than in, doesn’t it” she asked. “Though I suppose this would be about the time that an actual baby would throw a little temper tantrum because he has a dirty bottom that needs changing.”

“Believe me, I would love nothing more than to throw a temper tantrum right now,” I said.

I sniffed at the air. I was already aware of the pungent odor I had introduced to the small space, but it took a minute or two for me to truly realize just how toxic it was. I slowly turned around to face her, finding her hands were covering her mouth and nose–likely to both muffle her laughter and an attempt to protect herself from the smell of my diaper.

“She expects you to waddle through the office now? Like that?”

I sighed. “I guess? But I don’t even see how that’d be possible. I can’t leave this room. Ever.”

She laughed again. “You’ll have to eventually, stinkybutt.”

There was a ringing sound at that moment, one that neither of us were familiar with. We looked around the room, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Had I set off some sort of security system? Was someone, somewhere, watching me fill my pants and decided that something had to be done?

“It’s the office phone,” Lyndie said, pointing to the mostly-ignored object in the corner of the room. We had all but forgotten it existed, on account of us never needing it before.

I carefully waddled towards the phone. It was a pathetic series of uncertain steps, each sloshing around the contents of my diaper further. I already knew who would be on the phone–there was only one person it could be. Ironic timing, really, but this seemed par for the course in the humiliating cosmic scheme being laid out for me.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver, nervously bringing it to my face.

“Well, Baby?” she cooed from the other end of the line. “How is your diaper holding up?”

“I…did it.”

“Did you now? And just what was it that you did?”

I sighed, looking at Lyndie again as she pinched her nostrils shut and waved away the air in front of her face. “I…well…you know…”

“Oh, come now. Don’t be so timid with your Mommy. You can tell me anything.”

“But you already know–”

“Yes, but I asked you to tell me anyway,” Ms. Heller said. I could almost hear the amused smile on her face as she said this.

“I…went in my diaper,” I said. Cue Lyndie’s giggling again.

“Went?”

“Pooped,” I said, trying again. But I already knew that wasn’t the exact answer she wanted. I tried again: “I pooped my diaper.”

She offered a satisfied hum. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I bet you made a stinky mess for me to clean up, yes?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Well then, you’ll be happy to know that my office is available now if you want to bring your dirty bottom over here.”

“I…I don’t know if I can do that,” I said.

“No?”

“I just…it was a lot. Like, I really filled my diaper. And it smells terrible. I don’t think there’s any way I could possibly walk to your office like this. Everyone would know immediately.”

“You think so?” she asked. “What is it that you think they’d know?”

“That…I pooped my pants...”

“Accidents happen,” she quickly replied.

“I…think they’re usually frowned upon when you’re an adult. At work.” I hoped that she wasn’t that far removed from normal societal practices.

“I’m teasing,” she said. “But, if you refuse to come to me, that does create a bit of a pickle.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “How so?”

“Well, I’m due on a conference call in about five minutes, so me coming to you wouldn’t be an option, I’m afraid. I’d be happy to change your dirty diaper on the floor of my office if you’re brave enough to make the trip, of course.”

“But…I can’t.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait,” she said. There was very little sympathy in her voice. If I were to have guessed, I’d say she was smiling.

“Oh…it won’t be anytime soon, Baby. Mommy has lots of important calls to make and meetings to be in.”

I certainly needed to be reminded of my place, and her condescending tone certainly did the trick. I was a little boy again–maybe more literally than I’d care to admit. I wanted to crawl behind her, tugging on her apron. Or, pantsuit.

“What am I supposed to do? Please, M-Mommy. My diaper…”

“If you can get yourself to my office in the next hour, I have a fresh diaper waiting for you. And if you choose to remain there, in your little closet, you’d be waiting a few hours until I can go to you.”

“What if…I changed my own diaper?” I asked.

“No,” she said, sternly. “I’m afraid that won’t be an option. You’re too little to change your own diaper.”

“What? Too…little?” I felt myself growing smaller and smaller. She had an extraordinary way of making me feel tiny. “But…”

“I can only imagine the terrible mess you’ve made of yourself,” she said. “I don’t think you’d be able to clean that up all by yourself.”

“I know. That’s why I need you.”

I could hear a soft and approving moan over the phone. She clearly loved to hear of my depencey on her.

“There may be another option,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Is your friend there? The other intern? Lyndie, I believe.”

I looked over to where Lyndie stood, still covering her nose. I swallowed hard, already dreading where this was going. “Y-yes,” I said.

“Baby, would you be a doll and hand the phone to her?”

I felt that paralyzing fear throughout my body again. I nodded, quickly realizing that Ms. Heller wouldn’t be able to see that over the phone. “Yes…”

I slowly extended my arm towards Lyndie, the phone in my outstretched hand for her. I watched Lyndie’s eyebrows lift, curious and excited to see what this was all about.

“She would like to speak to you,” I said.

“With pleasure,” she said, taking the phone from me.

Almost immediately, I was out of the loop. Disconnected. I was a child, only able to listen in as the grown-ups talked, missing all the context and nuance that they had.

“Good morning,” Lyndie said. “How can I assist?”

Assist. My heart pounded as I tried to think of all the ways that Ms. Heller might ask Lyndie to ‘assist’ me.

“Oh yes,” Lyndie said, responding to something I wasn’t privy to. “I haven’t seen it for myself but it certainly smells like he’s made a pretty big mess of his diaper.”

On the other end of the phone, Ms. Heller was talking. I couldn’t hear a word of it, though I could hear the muffled tone of her voice emanating from the phone.

“If you’d like me to, I could certainly do my best,” Lyndie said. “I have to be honest–I’ve never done anything like that before.”

More muffled tones from Ms. Heller. Whatever it was, it was long-winded. All the while, Lyndie nodded along, occasionally interjecting an affirmative “Yes'' or “I understand.” Occasionally she’d look at me, smiling.

What? What are you two talking about?

Finally: “Thank you, Ms. Heller. I completely agree with you. And if that’s how it ends up going, I won’t let you down.” A pause for Ms. Heller to say a few words. Then: “We’ll be in touch, I’m sure. Goodbye.”

She calmly hung up the phone before turning to me, arms crossed. Enormous smile.

“Well?” I asked. “Wh-what did she say?”

“I suspect you already know most of it,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s not able to come over here to change your diaper. Well…not for a while, at least. And even if you did want to wait, she doesn’t think that’s a very good idea. She feels you’d almost certainly get a diaper rash.”

My cheeks reddened, just thinking about the idea of being an adult with a diaper rash.

“So,” she continued, “she thinks the other options would be either for you to just go to her office now…”

“No way,” I said. “I can’t do that. I just can’t! Smelling like this? Everyone would know I crapped my pants immediately. I’d be laughed out of the building. But you said ‘options,’ right? What is my other option?”

“Well…”

“C’mon,” I said, practically begging. “What else did she suggest?”

“She suggested that I be the one to change your diaper,” Lyndie said.

“N-no…”

“And, personally, I think that’s a great idea, don’t you? How about I lock the door again, and you take your pants off for me.”

 

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Fifteen

“You don’t want to do that, do you?” I asked.

“I know I’ve been pretty vocal against changing diapers previously. But Gabrielle has sort-of changed my mind on that a little. I’m seeing the appeal.”

“I…but…” I paused, taking a deep breath before starting over again. “This isn’t like yesterday when I just wet my diaper. I filled this thing. To the brim.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lyndie said. “I’m very aware of that.”

“And you still want to…change my diaper?”

The words should have been easy to say at this point. It felt like the only thing I had talked about the last few days. Diapers. Diaper changes. Wetting. Messing. Pacifiers. Baby. Mommy. Actual parents probably didn’t talk about diapers as much as I did. Yet I still found myself getting caught up in the words when I had to say them out loud. Especially with Lyndie.

“Is it a dream come true for me to wipe up your poopy bottom? No, I can’t say that it is. But your Mommy–she can be a very convincing woman.”

I didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, though I was quite curious. What did ‘convincing’ look like? Money? A position? Or was Ms. Heller just that charismatic that she could make someone agree to change a grown man’s dirty diaper?

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t have to change you. You’re still welcome to waddle your dirty caboose all the way over to Mommy’s office. Or, you know, wait for her. Both, admittedly, don’t sound all that fun to me. And, I have to be honest, if you’re going to just sit here in your stinky pamper and wait, I’m probably going to leave. I’m worried that at some point I’m going to smell like your diaper myself.”

There were a lot of options to weigh, and even though I had been constantly scrolling through them in my head, I needed one more round. Walk through the office, with my diaper in this disastrous state. Wait for Mommy, all the while sitting in my dirty diaper. Or…allow Lyndie to change me.

Or? I could call it quits. I could end the game. Rip off my diaper, do my best to clean myself up without anyone else’s help. That would, I was pretty sure, end this humiliating and fantastical ride. If I wasn’t going to play by Mommy’s rules, I wasn’t going to get to play at all.

Tempting. But…I wasn’t done playing.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”

She shrugged. “Fine? Which option is fine?”

Fuck, I was going to have to say it out loud. “I think it’d be best if…you changed my diaper?”

She nodded. “I think that’s probably the best choice.”

“It’s going to be messy,” I said again. I felt like it beared repeating, over and over. The actual question I was trying to ask was: Are you sure you can handle it?

“Your Mommy said something quite inspirational yesterday,” she said. “Something like: There will never be a mess so bad that you can’t just wash your hands after. So? Let’s get our hands dirty.”

Let’s get our hands dirty. It was so blase. So nonchalant. She could’ve been talking about an arts and crafts project or planting some vegetables in a garden.

“Okay,” I said, nodding. I was doing my best to compose myself.

“First thing’s first, maybe we get your pants off,” she said.

I nodded, sliding my shoes off my feet before unbuckling my pants. This had to have been a record-breaking number of times an employee had taken his pants off in front of his co-workers in a short amount of time. Once again, my pants were sliding down my legs.

The full diaper, free from being bound in place by my pants, sank between my legs with a heavy flop. Having a good amount of the mess pulled away from my skin came as a little relief, but this new configuration somehow felt even more embarrassing. That shameful sag, the backside of my diaper completely filled.

She pointed to the top of our table. “Why don’t you hop on up here. The changing table.”

I carefully climbed atop the table’s surface once more, again thankful for the industrial-grade construction that allowed it to hold me up. I could only imagine a scene where the table gave out at this point–paramedics arriving on the scene, only to find me and my bloated diaper stuck in the pieces of broken wood and metal.

“Bear with me,” she said. “I’m new to this.”

“I think I am too,” I said.

“I pooped my pants once a few years ago,” she said, beginning to carefully peel back the diaper’s tapes.

“R-really?”

“It was a night of bad decisions,” she continued, laughing. “I was young and stupid. Well–younger and stupider, I guess. I snuck into this party I wasn’t invited to. Drank too much shitty beer. Ate too much shitty food. There was this guy at the party who I was flirting with on and off. No idea who he was, you know? But in the state I was in, I was in love with this guy.”

I felt privileged to get any sort of peek into Lyndie’s past, even if it came while she changed my loaded diaper.

She carefully tugged at the front of my diaper to lift it up from my body. I could sense her hesitation. Not that I blamed her–I wouldn’t want to see what was under there either. I half-expected this to be the moment that she bailed, running from the room in the hopes of finding fresh air. Maybe a toilet to throw up in.

No. She persevered. Of course, she didn’t look happy about what she found, but she did appear to be determined. She shook her head while waving away the newly unleashed fumes.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she said, laughing to herself. “I’m almost worried I’m in over my head here.”

My heart sank. Was it even worse than I thought?

Still, she pulled the package of baby wipes out of my bag, setting them on the table and opening them up. She wasn’t discouraged.

“It’s alright,” she said, mostly to herself. “Just getting our hands dirty.” Her attention shifted back to my face, and she smiled. “First things first, I think we need to get this dirty diaper out of the way.”

While it may have been relatively new to me too, I wasn’t without experience. I knew what Mommy would expect for me to do right now. I lifted my legs and bottom into the air, giving her the clearance to remove the diaper and clean my backside easier.

“So where were we?” she asked. “Oh right, so there was this guy I was in love with–while drunk and full of terrible food. I’m feeling pretty gross, right? But I’m drunk enough to think that I can just ignore the fact that this trashy food just isn’t agreeing with me.”

She had drawn a damp wipe from the package and had begun the arduous task of wiping away the caked on filth between my legs. It was somehow more mortifying to watch Lyndie do it than it was when Mommy had. It came down to confidence, I think. Mommy seemed unphased by what she found in a diaper–like she had seen it a thousand times before. Perhaps she had. But this was Lyndie’s very first rodeo, and I had given her a real doozy of a bull to contend with.

But she pressed on, one wipe at a time. Little bit by little bit, she was cleaning me up.

“I’m trying to act all cute and flirty,” her story continued. “You can probably guess, but I’m not normally very flirty, nor am I good at it. I doubt alcohol-enhanced me is any better. And I can feel it in my belly, you know? That sort of urgency where you’re, like, ‘Well, shit, I need to do something about this.’ But I don’t. I just keep talking to him.

“And suddenly, it happens. I guess? I don’t even know because I think it barely registered with me. I felt something happening in my pants, and my stomach felt a little less stressed, but I wasn’t able to connect the dots. And so this guy is, like, ‘Lyndie, I think you just shit your pants?’”

I was captivated by her story. I was just trying to imagine it happening. Lyndie, standing there and talking to a guy while she unloaded into her pants. I tried to imagine her–the brash and independent Lyndie that I knew now–reacting to the man she had a crush on telling her that she just pooped in her pants.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I think, for a minute, I tried to play it off real cool, you know? Like, ‘Nah, man, it’s all good.’ But then I started to smell myself. And I sobered up pretty quickly. So I ran out of the party. And I didn’t drive myself there, I walked. So I had to hoof it all the way back home, my pants completely destroyed.”

Now I was thinking about her sneaking across town, hiding behind cars and shrubs as she jumped from one block to the next in an effort to keep her filthy pants a secret.

This story, as it turned out, was rather arousing. I didn’t want to look to confirm, but…I could feel myself growing hard.

“Well well well,” Lyndie said, chuckling as another wipe was run between my legs. She playfully batted at my swollen member. “Which is doing it for you? My dirty story or getting your own mess cleaned up?”

“Neither hurts,” I said truthfully.

“What a naughty little baby. You’re clearly a good fit for your Mommy, you know?”

I nodded. Believe me, I know.

“I think we got most of the yuckies off your bottom,” she said. She had taken a bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse and had squirted a blob into her hands, which she rubbed together. “I think I’d like a second opinion, though. Gabrielle will have to tell me how I did when she inspects you later. Assuming you don’t mess yourself again before she sees you.”

I blushed at the very thought of having an ‘accident’ like this one again on the same day. Hearing her mutter the word ‘yuckies’ certainly didn’t help.

“Did…you get home?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your story,” I said. “Did you get home without being caught again? And the people from the party? Did they…make fun of you for pooping your pants?”

“I made it home without further incident,” she said, smiling. “Much to your dismay, I’m sure. And, the little humiliation fiend that you are, you probably won’t like that there’s really not that much else to the story. Like I said, I snuck into a party I wasn’t invited to. And I wasn’t exactly popular, so I don’t think many people noticed I was even there. I had heard stories later about the drunk girl who shit herself in the backyard. But nobody knew it was me.”

My cock was throbbing, just thinking about it. All of it. Her story. My increasingly absurd situation. It all excited me. It all made me crave…more.

Her fingers were suddenly wrapping around my cock. I moaned, unconsciously thrusting my hips up into the air, as if some pathetic effort to fuck her hand.

“Whoa boy,” she cooed, giggling. “Baby sure does have a libido, huh?”

I shrugged, a little ashamed of my hormones being so obvious.

“Well, she hasn’t locked you up yet.” She repeated the phrase she had used in my apartment the night before: “Cock jail.”

“N-no,” I said nervously. “Not yet.”

“But your days are numbered?” she asked, gently stroking my shaft. “Not much longer now, and she’ll have you locked up good and tight.”

“Probably…”

“Where do you think she’ll put the key?” Lyndie asked. “I’ve seen women online, they wear the keys on a chain around their neck. It’s kind of cute, I guess. I’m not sure it works for all women. Gabrielle doesn’t strike me as the key-around-neck type.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t talked about that much.”

Lyndie’s hand continued to glide up and down my shaft. Slowly, and not too tightly. But she had a loose rhythm–she certainly knew what she was doing.

“Some men can still have an orgasm, even after their cock is in a cage,” she said. “Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“All it takes is a finger or two. A toy even. You just go up baby’s bottom and wiggle it around a bit in just the right spot and…voila.”

My breathing had grown heavier as she casually stroked me. I was panting. Moaning. My mind was in a thousand places at once. I was thinking of my messy diaper. Lyndie’s messy pants. Ms. Heller easing her finger into my backdoor again until I climaxed with my cage on.

“Do you like having your bottom played with?” Lyndie asked.

“I…think? It’s new to me.”

She laughed. “Well make sure you ask her to try it out after she gets you fitted for your cage.”

I said nothing, just moaning again as her hand continued to slide up and down my skin. She was bringing me close to the edge.

My head gently rolled to its side, looking at the door, still closed and locked. On the other side of that door, people were working. I imagined that there was some guy, at some cubicle, and he was working on finishing a report to meet a deadline. He hates his job. He hates having to come to the office everyday. He doesn’t get enough respect and he doesn’t get paid what he thinks he’s owed. And he’s just yards away. Feet, even. So close to where I was, getting my cock rubbed after I had just filled a diaper and needed to be changed.

That was my job. Being a baby. Being humiliated. Getting turned on and relieved. And the only meaningful assignment I had been given today was to mess my diaper.

By this metric, I was a model employee.

“Fuck,” I said. “Gonna…I have to…”

My cock spurt its load, the white goo lazily cascading back down my cock and onto the smooth skin my manly pubic hair had once occupied. It was gone now–my manhood having been revoked.

“You’re in luck,” she said, drawing another wipe from the package on the table. “A baby is never far from its wipes, right?”

She cleaned up this new mess, adding in a few extra swipes to make sure she had thoroughly cleaned everything she had gone over before.

“Ready for a new diaper?”

Always. “Please.”

“This is the easy part,” she said, taking a fresh diaper out of my bag. “I’ve never done it before, of course. But I figure it all has to be easier than cleaning your ass.”

Fair enough. I was still reeling from the orgasm. I wasn’t entirely in my body, or even entirely in this room. I was floating around–somewhere between pure ecstasy and crippling humiliation–even if the two were getting more closely connected all the time.

“All done,” she said. Her words grounded me, and I had to shake my head in confusion.

“Done?” I looked down the length of my body, seeing the fresh diaper was already wrapped around me and taped shut.

“Easy peasy,” she said. “You ought to get your pants back on.”

I slowly rolled to the edge of the table and eased myself. I was still feeling dazed when my feet hit the ground.

“Can I be honest?” Lyndie asked.

“I assume you usually are,” I remarked.

She laughed, offering an agreeable shrug. “True. But, I’m kind of liking this whole baby thing.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. It’s not quite like having an actual baby–for pretty obvious reasons. So it’s more like having a doll? You can dress it up and do whatever you want to it. And, sure, sometimes you have to clean it up, but that’s part of the fun, I guess.”

I sighed, imagining myself just sitting on a shelf with other dolls, waiting to be picked up and played with.

“Careful,” I said. “Next, you’ll want an actual infant of your own.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that,” she said. “But I could get behind having a big adult baby of my own.”

The concept certainly seemed to be catching on. Ms. Heller. Lyndie. Evan. Even Pizza-Girl’s amused smile–or at least, that’s how I remember it. I kept getting exposed, and yet I never seemed to be met with disgust or anger. Everyone seemed to like it. Love it. They embraced it and wanted more of it. Was the idea of infantilizing a man that exciting?

Or did it just make sense when it came to me? Oh, that’s Clark. He belongs in diapers. Honestly, it’s amazing that he went this long without being treated like the baby he is.

“I will be leaving that to you,” she said, pointing at the old diaper, still sitting on top of the table, wide open–stink lines practically emanating off of it. I could see that every single wipe she had used to clean my bottom had been deposited into it. It appeared that many were needed, more than I had expected.

“Right,” I said with a little nod. “Thank you for…changing me.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth.

“Of course,” she said. “Now, I’m going to wash my hands. Like, four times. Then I’m going to get some more coffee. And then I’m going to sit outside in the fresh air for, like, an hour. I’ll see you later.”

After she closed the door behind her, I took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. Admittedly, the air I was taking in was tainted, and post-climax it seemed much less novel to me, but it was still a much-needed feeling of being reset.

I didn’t want to look into the diaper. I didn’t want to know how bad it was, or how much work I had created for Lyndie. I tried to look just above it as I reached down and rolled it up into a ball. When I was finished, I held the heavy shameful package in my hand, humbled by how this literal blob of garbage had caused so much trouble for me.

I had no idea how I’d transport it out of The Closet. And once I left with it, where would I even take it? A dumpster outside, probably. Preferably far from wherever Lyndie was.

Actually, I realized I needed some fresh air myself. I tossed the diaper into my bag, threw the bag over my shoulder, and hoped that the room smelled better by the time I got back.

 

[quietlyhumiliated]

The good babies who are subscribed to my Patreon are reading the first chapter of the second season of Doing Business today. It'll eventually get posted here of course...but you've got a month to go. For the low low price of $3, you too can join the gossip at the water cooler at your local playpen this weekend.

 

Sixteen

From: Gabrielle Heller <gheller@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Thursday, March 24 at 11:46 AM

To: Clark Ashburn <cashburn@xxxxxxxxx>

Cc: Lyndie Brown <lBrown@xxxxxxxxx>

Subject: New Assistant Orientation

Hey Clark,

Congratulations on becoming my new assistant! I think we’re going to work well together, don’t you?

At 2:00 PM today, I’m holding a meeting in the 12th floor conference room and I’d love for you to be there. This will be a good opportunity to meet some of the executives, and their assistants, that you’ll be seeing more of in the months ahead.

Lyndie, I hope that you’ll be there too.

-G

***

“You look nervous,” Lyndie said, pressing the elevator’s ‘12’ button. The door slowly closed, sealing us inside.

“Can you blame me?” I asked. “Who knows how many of these ‘executives’ know about the baby stuff?”

“Or will know eventually,” added Lyndie with a little smirk.

“You’re not helping.”

The closer the elevator got to the 12th floor, the quicker my heart rate became. Who would be waiting for me in this conference room? More importantly: What would I be expected to do in front of them?

“If it helps,” Lyndie said, “I’m a little nervous myself.”

“You too?”

“Well, I’m not walking into a room of executives with a diaper on under my pants…”

“Thank you for the reminder.”

“...but it’s still a little nerve-racking. I mean, regardless of whether or not I like these people or respect their 6-digit salaries, that’s a lot of power in one place, right? I still feel like I need to make a good impression.”

“You just don’t want to be polite,” I teased.

“Probably not. Well, if you see me struggling, maybe you could just go and poop your pants for me or something. Take the attention off of me?”

“All pooped out, I’m afraid,” I said.

Despite having been put into a fresh diaper and spending some time outside after, I felt like I could still smell that foul nasty odor on me. I wondered if it was just in my imagination, or if the stench had somehow been absorbed into my clothing or pores.

“Do I still smell?” I asked.

She leaned in close to me, taking a sniff or two around me. I could smell her and her fresh application of body spray. Something lavender-y.

“I think you’re good,” she said, her tone almost suggesting that it was actually a question. “I think my nose is still fucked up from being so close to ground zero for a while earlier. But I think you’re good.”

I blushed and shrugged. Even if I was carrying around some unwanted scent with me, there was very little I could do about it.

The elevator dinged, indicating we had reached our destination. I almost wanted to reach out and grab Lyndie’s hand. I resisted–I needed to remember that, despite the diapers, I was still an adult. A young adult? The youngest adult.

We walked down the hallway to the entrance of the large conference room. The doors were closed, and we could hear muffled sounds coming from inside. Whatever was going on in there had already started. Any hope of sneaking into the room without drawing much attention to myself was squashed.

I took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing…”

I opened the door.

While I had no idea what I was expecting, I certainly wasn’t expecting this. It was so surprising– so overwhelming–that it was as if I had gone blind. My brain just decided to stop processing the things I was seeing. I needed to look at Lyndie and read her reaction for a better idea of how I was supposed to act. But her jaw had dropped open, and her eyes had grown large.

So it wasn’t just me–this was wild.

“And there he is, ladies and gentleman!” proclaimed Ms. Heller, standing at the far end of the conference room. “My new assistant, Clark Ashburn!”

Everyone was applauding and cheering.

I was looking around the room again, my vision coming back to me so that I could try and take it all in again.

This wasn’t a meeting, it was a baby shower. Across the wall behind Ms. Heller was a pastel blue banner with soft pink letters reading: “CONGRATULATIONS! IT’S A BOY!” Pink and blue crepe-paper streamers were strung back and forth between the walls. Balloons in the shapes of baby bottles, rattles and diapers.

A room of strangers, maybe 10 or so in total including Lyndie and I. Men and women in a range of ages, all dressed in their normal business attire–all of them staring at me and smiling as they clapped.

Ms. Heller left her desk at the long table and approached me, a baby blue sash in hand, She draped it over my head to hang it on my shoulder and across my body. ‘BABY BOY’ it read.

“I’m so glad you made it, darling,” she cooed to me. “Come, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

I glanced over at Lyndie one last time, hoping to still see that look of dumbfounded surprise that I felt. But she was smiling now, clearly amused by what was unfolding.

Ms. Heller took me by the hand, leading me up towards the head of the conference room table that she had been at when we entered. We began at the first chair on the left of hers, where the familiar face of Neve Beaufort was waiting.

“I believe you’ve already met Ms. Beaufort,” Ms. Heller said. “Our VP of Product Development?”

“Y-yes,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Beaufort.”

She smiled, taking my hand in hers and shaking it firmly. “Gabrielle has been talking about you a lot. She’s so incredibly happy that you’ve joined us. Which, in turn, makes me incredibly happy. It is my hope that I get to see more of you.”

I nodded politely. “Thank you, ma’am. Likewise.”

“And sitting next to her,” Ms. Heller said, “is Ava Barton. She is Ms. Beaufort’s assistant. She’s a wonderful young woman. Cute as a button too, don’t you think?”

I felt my cheeks warming as I offered a slight nod in Ava’s direction. “Yes…”

“Mr. Ashburn and I met in the hall the other day,” Ava said to Ms. Beaufort. “So he kind of already knows that…” her voice trailed off, as if uncertain that she wanted to say it aloud.

“...the both of you wear diapers?” Ms. Beaufort said, finishing the thought for her. “Well that’s good. Avoids having an awkward conversation about it now.”

Ava’s face had gone as ghastly as I worried mine had. Ms. Heller was quick to notice though.

“Oh, no need to worry,” she said to the both of us. “I can assure you that everyone else in this room is already well aware of your diapers.”

This might have been the worst case scenario.

“Next, I’d like to introduce you to Darren Yang, he’s our CFO.”

While I probably wouldn’t call him ‘young,’ there was a youthfulness to him. He was fit. Clean shaven, well groomed and even better dressed. He looked like a model.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.” He also took my hand and shook it with a strong grip that I almost couldn’t release myself from until he chose to let go.

“It is nice to meet you as well, sir.”

“I’m not sure if you know this or not, but Gabrielle here tends to be pretty picky when it comes to her assistants,” he said, his voice carrying a nonchalant smugness. “So you should feel pretty proud to have been chosen for this position.”

“I…I do, yes. It’s very much an honor.”

“You have to forgive him,” Ms. Heller said to the man, her hand resting on my shoulder like a parent trying to sooth their anxious child. “He’s rather new to this. He’ll come around.”

“They all do,” Mr. Yang said. “Sooner or later.”

We moved down to the next seat at the table. “And this is Megan Markley,” Ms. Heller said. “She’s Darren’s assistant.”

“And my pride and joy,” Mr. Yang interjected. I had no idea what that even meant.

Megan was beautiful, to a degree that seemed almost uncanny. Her hair seemed too perfect. Her vibrant makeup. Even her stunning black dress seemed mismatched for the environment–it felt better suited for a banquet than it did for just another day of work. It was hard to believe that she was an assistant and not a model pulled from an advertising campaign.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Megan said with a girlish curtsy.

“And you,” I said, nodding. I wanted to look back at Lyndie again. I was dying to know what her reaction to all this was. But I kept my eyes focused where Ms. Heller wanted me to for the moment. I wanted to seem committed and engaged.

There was so much to take in, and it was all speeding past me. I wanted to know more about Megan, but I was being ushered forward to the next seat.

“And here we have Nancy Tamberlin,” said Ms. Heller. This was a name I knew I had seen before, but I couldn’t think of the context. “She’s our Director of Human Resources.”

Oh shit, I thought to myself. For one, that was probably where I had seen her name before–in the documentation for my internship. But, too, if the head of HR was involved in this weird little corporate game, it certainly seemed to suggest that these executives had some protection on their side. Perhaps this also explained the speed at which I was able to have my new position given to me.

“Hello,” I said to her. She was a little older, in her 50s, I’d guess. But there was a difference between normal-50s and rich-executive-50s. There was a healthy radiance about her, and a confident stance that rivaled Ms. Heller’s.

“Good afternoon, little boy,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “We’re all so happy that you could join us.”

I felt myself blushing again, hearing the executives giggling and chuckling at her little boy comment.

“Then, of course, we have Nancy’s assistant,” continued Ms. Heller. “This is Bradley Cobb.”

“H-hi,” Bradley said. It was a familiar sight–a young and naive look about him that reminded me of my own face when I looked into a mirror.

“You won’t find any diapers under his pants,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “Don’t get me wrong, he’d probably look adorable in them. But I’m not interested in changing them.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said to Bradley. I tried to make eye-contact with him, hoping to signal that we weren’t that different. We could be allies. He nodded, smiling, but said nothing else.

“He’s a little shy,” Ms. Heller said to me. “Well, with strangers. Nancy claims that he can eat her out for hours at a time. Not a bad skill to have, if you ask me. You two ought to connect and talk about that at some point.” This elicited more laughter.

I was then led to the last person around the table, a young woman sitting by herself with nobody sitting next to her.

“And last, but certainly not least, we have Troy Morris, our VP of Logistical Analysis. He’s a newcomer to our little group, and he doesn’t yet have an assistant of his own. But don’t you worry, we’re keeping our eyes open for someone who can be a perfect fit.”

“Good to meet you kid,” Mr. Morris said. He was a handsome man with some strong fatherly energy. Maybe it was his beard. To Ms. Heller, he said: “You gonna let me borrow him sometime? I’ll help break him in.”

“He’s delicate,” Ms. Heller said, laughing. “He’s not your type.”

I wondered what that meant his type would actually be, then.

“As a little bit of a bonus,” Ms. Heller said, leaving my side and walking over towards Lyndie, “there’s someone else I wanted to introduce everyone to. This is Lyndie Brown. She’s another intern, like Clark was. However, in a very short time, I’ve come to really admire her willingness and dedication in completing some tasks I’ve given to her. And I think we all might have a need for someone like her. I’m proposing a promotion for this young lady as well.” She turned to Lyndie directly. “Would you be interested in a full time position with the company?”

Lyndie nodded. “You certainly have my attention. What sort of position are we talking about? I’m not sure I’m the assistant-type…”

“No,” Ms. Heller said, laughing. “I don’t think so either. But we’d be putting some of those maternal skills of yours to good use.”

Maternal skills? Was she talking about how Lyndie changed my diaper earlier in the day?

“I’d like you to become our official babysitter,” Ms. Heller said. The other execs cheered and nodded at this announcement.

“Babysitter?” asked Lyndie.

“Well, we wouldn’t actually call you a babysitter. We’d give you some fancy title. Liaison to the Executive Team. Coordinator for Assistant Relations. I don’t know…we’ll workshop the name. But I think we could use someone in this position. Someone to check in with the assistants and to make sure their needs are being met during the day.

Neve Beaufort nodded. “Having less diapers to change could give me more time to direct my team.”

“And if it means I don’t have to change him, maybe it means that I start giving Bradley diapers to wear,” Nancy Tamblerlin said. Bradley’s face turned a deep pink color.

“What do you think?” Ms. Heller asked Lyndie.

Lyndie laughed, shaking her head in astonishment. I tried to predict how she’d answer, but I really had no idea what she was thinking. On one hand, she seemed to hate the corporate world, and this was an invitation for her to join it. On the other…she seemed to be enjoying her time spent with me in a diaper, and this was a lot more of that.

“I…I would be honored,” she said, laughing as if she could barely believe she was agreeing to this herself.

“Congratulations,” Ms. Heller said. “You’re our new Executive Babysitter.”

“And for your first order of business,” said Ms. Beaufort, I’ve got a little girl here who has been sitting in her soggy diaper for longer than she should’ve been.

I watched Ava’s face redden as she looked down to avoid making eye contact. There were a few more laughs and giggles erupting throughout the room.

“Aww, did you pee-pee in your diaper again, sweetie?” cooed Ms. Heller. She turned to me: “She does this all the time. The amount of money this company spends on diapers just for her is unbelievable.”

“I can certainly help with that,” Lyndie said.

“You can use my office,” Ms. Beaufort said to Lyndie. “Ava can show you the way.”

Ava slowly stepped away from her chair, walking past Lyndie to the door. Lyndie followed her and they were both gone soon after, the door closing behind them.

“Ah damn,” Ms. Heller said, shaking her head. “I should’ve checked your diaper too, Clark.”

“I…uhm…I’m fine.”

“Never trust a baby,” Ms. Beaufort said. “They’ll always insist they’re dry.”

“She’s right, of course,” Ms. Heller said. “Clark, be a good boy and pull your pants down for Mommy.”

“H-here?”

“Clark,” she said, doing her best to maintain a cheery disposition, while also adding a little sternness to her tone, “as my assistant, it is important that you follow all of my directions, at all times. Even if they make you nervous.”

“Your Mommy wouldn’t make you do anything that she didn’t think was safe,” added Troy Morris–the man who seemed to embody the concept of Daddy.

‘Safe’ was one thing. Humiliating was another, and that was what I was more concerned about. But it wasn’t like I was going to storm out of the room. As scary as it was, I still wanted all of this. And if Ava could do it–and Megan, and Bradley–then so could I.

I obediently unbuckled my belt and pushed my pants down my legs. It wasn’t the first time I had done that at work today, but it was certainly the first time I had a bigger audience for it.

“I thought you said you were dry,” said Ms. Heller, crouching down a little to inspect my diaper in front of the room.

In all fairness, I had said ‘fine,’ not dry. But she certainly wouldn’t want to hear that argument. I had, in fact, wet my diaper again–somewhere around the time Lyndie and I were walking towards the elevator to come to this meeting. It didn’t feel like a heavy wetting at the time, but I was sure that the diaper looked visibly wet, judging by the amused giggles spreading throughout the boardroom table.

“Go on then,” Ms. Heller said to me. “You’ll have to run and catch up with Lyndie and Ava. Tell Lyndie that she’ll need to take care of your diaper too.”

“Y-yes…” I wanted to say ‘ma’am,’ but by the time I got to the word, something else entirely slipped out, “...Mommy.”

But Ms. Heller’s eyes seemed to be beaming, and she leaned forward, kissing me on the forehead. It was all I needed, really. It was like being blessed by an angel–it was the motivation I’d need to do anything she ever asked me to do.

“Go. Get your diaper changed, Baby.”

I immediately ran out the door.

[christi]

Very nice, thanks for sharing.

[D503]

Awesome. Can't wait to see how Lyndie goes: strict humiliatrix and enforcer of bedtimes and undesirable meals or loving nappy nurse that keeps boys and girls wiggling with equal amounts of pleasure and humiliation as well of course.