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

[Babypants]

Increasingly, Heller reminds me of Catherine Trammel, the character portrayed by Sharon Stone in the two Basic Instinct films-- a brilliant, successful, psychopath.  It's one thing to play this kind of game in the privacy of a hotel room or in a corporate board room where all present are in on the gag, but no one with a moral compass would knowingly offend an entire roomful of restaurant staff and patrons in this way.  It's a gigantic red flag, and yet the chapter ends with Clark seemingly as oblivious as always.  So, he also reminds me of Nick, the Michael Douglas character in the first of the films, both of them obsessed with what they cannot have.  We shall only know at the end of course, but one has to wonder whether Clark will be as utterly destroyed, and cast aside, as the psychiatrist in the second film.  

[D503]

4 hours ago, quietlyhumiliated said:

“I must say, I’m really enjoying the effect this little toy has on you. If it wasn’t for the fact that I needed you to make your dirty messes in your diaper, I’d say we should just leave it in all the time.”

I love how "Mommy" put this - she certainly loves having her own toy, but will she grow bored or too reckless? I can't wait to find out.

[christi]

Very well done, thanks for sharing.

[bigbear95]

Since no one’s said it yet,

”I’ll have what he’s having.” 🫣

[Bonsai]

While “Quietlyhumiliated” was a good alias for your first stories, now you probably should rename your something else than “Quiet”. 🤫😶🤐

[christi]

HeHe!  Good one, BigBear.  🙂

[quietlyhumiliated]

Forty

“Are you much of a drinker, Clarky?”

“I mean…I like beer, I guess.”

“You guess?”

I laughed. “I mean, it’s not my favorite, but…”

“There’s a social expectation for a man of your age to drink that sort of thing, and so you drink it out of obligation?”

“Uh…probably.”

I was sitting on the floor of the suite in just my diaper. Mommy had been kind enough to remove the remote-controlled plug from my ass, but had insisted I remain in my soggy and sticky diaper until it was ‘completely full.’ She was pouring herself a glass of wine, and I almost wondered if she’d be offering me a glass. She did not.

“Could I, uhm, ask you something?”

She carried her wine glass over to the sofa and took a seat, crossing her legs. “Of course, Baby. Anything.”

“How did…this start?”

“This? Be more specific.”

“Like…the diapers. Baby things. This whole corporate…kink…thing.”

“Ah,” she said, sitting back tapping the edge of the wine glass against her lip as she considered my question. “Asking the hard questions.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I was just curious.”

“It was my idea,” she said. “I suppose that shouldn’t come as any sort of surprise to you.”

“No,” I replied. “Not especially.”

“Well, here’s something that might surprise you: It all started because someone once put me in a diaper.”

She was right about that being surprising. I stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I suppose you’d like to hear that story?”

“Uhm…” Yes, with every fiber of my being. “If…you wouldn’t mind?”

She settled into the couch a little further and uncrossed her legs. “Come up here. On my lap, baby. Mommy will tell you a little story.”

===

“I’d be embarrassed to tell you how long ago it was that this happened. So, we’ll keep it vague. Once, some time ago…”

Everyone has to start somewhere. Some people are lucky enough that they get to start at a slightly better place than everyone else–but I wasn’t that lucky. I started at the bottom.

Honestly, I think I preferred it that way. Considering where I am now, it seems that much more impressive that I started at the very bottom of the totem pole. I was in my mid-twenties and it was my first ‘big’ job, having just earned my masters degree a few months earlier. My ego had been a little inflated by the collegiate experience, admittedly–having earned the respect and praise of my teachers and peers. This translated into absolutely nothing when it came to the corporate world. I was given a cubicle and a few hours of training before being expected to figure the rest out for myself.

Within a week, supervisors and managers who had never properly introduced themselves to me were suddenly asking to see the progress I made, and minced few words when they were disappointed in my productivity.

My ego, suffice to say, was squashed almost immediately. I became a pathetic little shell of a woman, channeling more energy than I thought I had in me towards satisfying my superiors. I was coming into the office early, skipping meals, and staying late. I wasn’t taking care of myself.

Yet, all this sacrifice seemed to yield results. I was finally getting recognition for my contributions and the same superiors who criticized me before were finally getting off my back. I couldn’t take this opportunity to relax, of course. In my eyes, I thought this meant that I needed to work even harder to continue building my reputation.

But, wouldn’t you know it? All that additional work seemed to mean very little to the company as a whole. Around me, people were getting promoted. Men, mostly. People who knew people, if you know what I mean. Former frat bros with drinking problems who were probably present for the right game of golf, or something. Because they sure as hell weren’t being recognized for their hard work. I knew that because I was the one doing all their work.

For a while–probably longer than it should’ve been–I let it go. Eventually, I thought, my hard work and dedication would be recognized and I, too, would have earned my promotion.

But no. And perhaps you can imagine the reasons. Why would you relocate your best performing worker bee?

And so it became rather clear that if I felt I was due any sort of elevation in status, I’d need to be the one to initiate that conversation. I wasn’t about to go to my direct supervisor, though. Todd was a player in the office ‘boy’s club’ and had little time for me when I asked for something as simple as new office supplies. There was no chance that he’d offer me any more than an eye roll if I took my wants to him.

So I went above his head, our department director, Mr. Alexander. We had interacted only a handful of times, and I suspected he didn’t even know my name. I was worried that by even approaching him in the first place, I was putting my neck on the chopping block. But, at that point, I didn’t care much.

So be it, right? If the conversation went poorly, I’d probably want to be looking for a better job anyway. I scheduled a meeting with Mr. Alexander.

Nothing in my life had ever made me more nervous. I was terrified of the man. Terrified of the corporate ladder. Terrified of losing my job. Worse, my psyche might have been at its absolute lowest point–the months of overworking and not taking care of myself causing immeasurable damage to my well-being.

At first, I found him to be rather refreshing. He seemed warm and chatty–a welcome change from the cool and distant co-workers I was used to interacting with. He asked questions about my position and humored my suggestions on how we could improve efficiency within our department. Finally, he asked the big question: What did I actually want?

Still, I told him what I wanted, as calmly and coolly as I could. I told him that I wanted to be paid more. I wanted a promotion. I wanted to lead, and train new associates to do the good work that I knew I was doing.

And he said: “No.”

He fed me some lines about needing me to keep doing the good work I’ve been doing, and that maybe there was a chance–down the road–to discuss advancement opportunities. But for now, there wouldn’t be any changes.

I’m not proud to say that I lost my shit.

I stood up and berated the man for a solid ten minutes, going into detail about the amount of work I had done, the sacrifices I had made, and the nonchalant buffoonery of my co-workers that had been rewarded with promotions that I wasn’t getting. If I hadn’t actually said the words ‘I quit,’ in my little diatribe, I felt it was at least implied.

The man, to his credit, had maintained his calm and cool demeanor. He finally asked: “Are you done?”

“Yes,” I told him.

And I’ll never forget what he said to me next: “Did you really think you’d get what you wanted by coming in here and throwing a temper tantrum?”

To you, maybe it doesn’t sound like the worst thing he could’ve said to me. True, I suppose he could’ve said far worse. But at that moment, I found his words absolutely devastating. I was obliterated under the weight of that implication–that I had thrown a temper tantrum like I was just an angry toddler who needed her nap.

I made my way towards the door to his office, my head hung in shame. I was ready to just gather my belongings and leave the building. I assumed I’d just spend a few weeks sulking and crying before finally working up the courage to put myself out in the workforce again.

But he stopped me, calling me back to him. “Come here,” he said.

I was so defeated, so empty, that I just pivoted and walked back towards him. I braced myself, thinking that it was his turn, now, to berate me.

Instead, he beckoned for me to walk around his desk to where he was sitting. I couldn’t make any sense of the request, but I did it anyway.

“Not even my ten year-old daughter speaks to me like that,” he said to me. “And if she did, you better believe that I’d make her regret that. So you’re not going to just yell at me like that and be allowed to walk out of my office without consequences.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked. “Fire me? Because I think I already quit.”

“Nobody’s firing you, little girl,” he said. That ‘little girl’ further crushed my spirits. “Quit if you want, but I still need you to do your job.”

I had a brief glimpse of reality at that moment. I needed this job. I didn’t have the resources to live on my own without a job. I’d have to compose myself, calm down, and go back to work.

I told him: “Yes, sir.”

“Now, “ he said, “get over my knees.”

It still seems kind of surreal, when I think about it. I had tried to argue for my right to a promotion, and ended up getting pulled over my director’s lap and spanked in his office. Like a child.

And, believe it or not, it gets worse.

I hadn’t been taking care of myself–I told you that. Not only had I been skipping meals, but I had been putting off bathroom breaks for as long as possible every day. By the time Mr. Alexander had pulled up my skirt and began striking my ass with his flattened palm, my bladder was just about bursting at the seams.

I pissed myself on his lap as he spanked me. An absolute mess. He got it worse than I did, I think. My black panties and skirt would do a good enough job of concealing what I had done to myself until I got cleaned up. But Mr. Alexander’s pants weren’t so lucky–the beige pants had dark splotches all over them.

“Get out,” he said to me. “I’ll deal with you later.”

I couldn’t have ever predicted what being ‘dealt’ with looked like. He had already said he wasn’t going to fire me. What else could he do then? Tell everyone else I pissed my pants while he slapped my ass? It seemed unlikely–it’s never been exactly smiled upon to spank your employees.

All I could do was wait. And I waited for an entire week. After a few days, I had assumed that he had just forgotten about me. It didn’t change much for me. I was still working too much. Too hard. More than ever, I felt like I had to push myself because I needed to assure Mr. Alexander that I at least deserved the job I had.

And then, one day, he calls me to his office. You can probably imagine that my heart is just pounding in my chest. What is he going to say? What is he going to do, right?

I get there, and he immediately closes the door behind me. And I see it sitting there on the desk–a diaper. I knew what it was immediately. It was an adult diaper–which I don’t think I had ever seen before at that point, but I still knew what I was looking at.

He gave me an option that day. He said that if I laid down on the floor of his office, and allowed him to put that diaper on me–since I was nothing more than a ‘whiny, pissy, little toddler’–I’d be given a promotion. And, honestly, it wasn’t that hard of a decision. I wanted a promotion–that was all I had ever wanted. I wanted more money, and I wanted a little more authority–even if it meant sacrificing a little of my dignity.

That was that. Every morning, from that point on, I’d report to his office first thing in the morning. He’d do a thorough inspection of the panties I wore to work, making sure that I didn’t leave any stains in them. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he’d make me strip them off, and I’d lie down on the ground so that he could put a new diaper on me for the day.

In the afternoon, I’d be called into his office again. He’d inspect the diaper, just as he inspected my panties in the morning. If I was wet, I’d be pulled over his lap again, the diaper would be pulled down, and he’d spank my ass raw.

Would it be so hard to believe that I could be a naughty little girl? Save for, maybe, twice, every single time I got spanked for pissing my diaper, I had wet myself on purpose. I wish I was a little ballsier at that time. I’d have loved to see what he would’ve done if I pooped my pants.

This went on for about a year–and it was a pretty good year. Then, news came down from the top that things were changing. New ownership was coming, and a decent amount of management was being pushed out the door in the name of ‘new blood.’ Mr. Alexander was among that group.

It was surreal then, and even more surreal now, that we had maintained this strange little unethical routine for an entire year without it escalating into anything else. We never saw each other outside of work. We never had sex. We never so much as kissed. In hindsight, the entire year could almost be viewed as just a punishment for that one time I raised my voice to him.

I never really saw it that way. There was something there, albeit something that was hard to put into words. We had built something strange and special, and I was quite depressed at the prospect of having to move on in my life without him, his diapers, or his lap.

But the situation wasn’t all bad. I was chosen to be part of that ‘new blood,’ and I suddenly found myself in the surreal position of having Mr. Alexander’s job. And office. As it turned out, all that hard work and sacrifice had been noticed, and it was finally paying off.

The company, seeing a benefit in keeping me happy, offered me anything I wanted.

And do you know the first thing I thought of? I thought of sitting behind that big desk, as Mr. Alexander once had, and beckoning some naive pissant towards me so that I could check to see if they had wet the diaper I was making them wear.

I asked for an assistant. That was, of course, quite a few assistants ago. A completely different company too. Come to think of it, I don’t even think that company is around anymore.

I suppose there’s a few more stories that take place between when I had my first assistant and where I am today, with you. Another day, perhaps?

===

I had been so lost in her story, trying to imagine a younger Ms. Heller being hoisted over her boss’s lap in a wet diaper for a spanking, that it hadn’t realized that Mommy had been gently massaging the front of my diaper as she was speaking. I couldn’t get hard in my cage, but just her hand’s presence had been enough to keep me docile as I sat on her legs. Additionally, my thumb had, at some point, worked its way into my mouth and I just sat there suckling on myself.

“Does that answer your question?”

I nodded, slowly pulling my wet thumb from my mouth. “I have a few new questions now.”

“I’m sure you do, Baby. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” She reached forward, playfully booping me on the nose.

It wasn’t exactly an invitation to ask another question or two, but she also hadn’t told me that she wasn’t going to be taking more questions. There were so many things I wanted to know about. The origins of the greater executive team’s proclivities with assistants. Hillary. The long term path for my relationship with Ms. Heller.

Instead, I spit out the first random question that floated to the top. “Do you ever, now, wear diapers?”

She laughed, stroking my cheek gently. “Would you like it if I did, Baby?”

“I…I dunno.” I suspected I would, though I could barely process such a mental image. Not while this cage was on my cock.

“It’s been a while. Back when Hillary still worked for me, I think that was the last time.”

“Did you wear them with her?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I don’t think she knew about it. It was on a trip like this was one, actually–some sort of conference or convention. She had fallen asleep, and I had a little time to kill. I thought, for old time’s sake, I’d borrow one of hers and slip into it.”

“Did you like it?”

“I think I’m happier being a diaper-er, if I’m being honest. Maybe it comes down to that whole leaders and followers thing, you know? I wish I liked it more, but…maybe I’ve changed too many diapers to appreciate being in one again myself. I wish I liked it more.”

“Maybe it was because you were doing it by yourself,” I suggested. “I’m always happier when you’re taking care of my diapers for me.”

She laughed again. “Are you going to put me in a diaper, mister?”

“I…well…”

“Nobody making dirty diapers of their own should be putting others in diapers,” she said. “That’s just a rule.”

I felt my face warming a little. It was silly for me to have, however briefly, tried to imagine a world where I’d be putting her in a diaper.

“Speaking of which,” she added. “This diaper has been dry for far too long.”

“Oh…”

“Let’s fix that, shall we? Can you wet yourself for me, Baby?”

I didn’t think about it at all. She asked, and my body immediately listened. As her hand clutched the front of my diaper, my bladder emptied into it.

“That’s a good boy. You’re such a good baby, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mommy. I am.”

“What do you think, Baby? Do you think that one day, you’ll grow up and become a big boy who has an assistant of your own? Or do you think you’ll just fill your diapers for me for the rest of your life?”

“If I was allowed to choose?” I said. “I’d…probably be your baby. Forever.”

[Babypants]

Thank you for giving us her back story.  It explains a lot.  Add one more line, just five more words, and we would know where 41 is heading:

"Can you tell me why?"

Clark remains an enigma.  Have the young given up on soul-searching?

[quietlyhumiliated]

On 4/7/2023 at 11:07 PM, Babypants said:

Clark remains an enigma.  Have the young given up on soul-searching?

You continue to bring it up, and it continues to be a good point

More on Clark is coming. In writing the next part of this story, that was one of the goals I set - digging into who he is as a person. And its my hope that those answers are satisfying.

I always appreciate your feedback!

[Babypants]

This is an impressive story, and all the more so because it is tightly knit together despite there being 40 chapters spread across more than 9 months of writing.  The one remaining hurdle is Clark's backstory, because any character assigned narrative POV has to be detailed sufficiently for her/his thoughts, words and actions to be plausible to the reader.  Technically, Heller did not require a backstory, but I think the story reads a lot better knowing where she is coming from.  It is not unusual for secondary characters to become the more interesting figures as the tale proceeds.  Look at how George Kennedy's character of Joe Patroni hijacked the original Airport movie.  This is not what Arthur Hailey intended!

[quietlyhumiliated]

Hello. This chapter marks the end of Season 2 of Doing Business. I want to take a quick moment to thank everyone who has been reading, liking, and commenting on this story so far - I do notice, and I do appreciate it. 

This story will take a week off, but I'll be back in two weeks to post the next part of this story. It won't be Season 3, but it will be a short(er) series of stories set within the Doing Business universe. Think of it as an intermission before we get into the second half.

Of course, if you're not one for waiting around, maybe you'd like to come support me on Patreon? They're more than a month ahead of you, and they'll be starting Season 3 weeks before you do. Links are somewhere down below. And in my profile (maybe? I'm sure you can find a link somewhere around here).

 

 

Forty-One

Nothing lasts forever. Not a fresh diaper. Not a full baby bottle. Not the humiliation of having loudly climaxed in my pants at a restaurant because of a remote-controlled vibrating plug inserted in my bottom by Mommy.

This little ‘business trip’ with Mommy, too, was sunsetting. We had one last night together in the suite. Tomorrow, at this time, I’d be back home again. Back in the world of Evan and Lyndie. Ava. Ms. Beaufort. It had only been a few short days, but it felt like weeks, somehow.

Nothing lasts forever. I had that stuck in my head. I tried writing it off as just being a little moody because my trip with Mommy was ending, but the feeling persisted no matter how much logic I applied to it. Maybe because I couldn’t stop myself from looking further ahead than just this weekend.

One day, this thing that I had with Mommy would be over.

I supposed that I could be wrong about that. Maybe there was, somehow, a scenario where Ms. Heller and I lived together in a retirement community and she was still wiping my dirty bottom. But I doubted it. At some point, something had to change. Maybe she’d leave the company. Or I would. Maybe one of us would realize that this arrangement wasn’t working anymore. Maybe the joy would have worn off.

“I don’t really care for that look,” Mommy said.

“Wh-what look?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Really? You’re going to pretend that I can’t read you like a book? What’s wrong?”

My cheeks glowed a little, as I was feeling foolish for getting so upset about possibilities that were–hopefully–quite a ways off in the future. “I’m good.”

“I didn’t ask whether you were good or not. I asked for you to tell me what’s on your mind that’s giving you that sour look on your face. I’d have guessed that you pooped your pants, but…” She took an exaggerated sniff of the air. “...I don’t detect anything especially stinky.”

“I don’t want to trouble you with it, Mommy. I already know that I’m being silly, and–”

“I’ll be the judge of how silly you’re being. Come on now–out with it.”

“I was just thinking about…” The words suddenly seemed even more ridiculous than I thought they did in my head. “The end?”

“Of what? The weekend?”

“Sure. But, also…us? The inevitability of this little thing we’re doing ending one day?”

I expected her to laugh, or to just shrug and confirm that I was overthinking things. Instead, she sat down next to me on the couch and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to her. She kissed the top of my head softly.

“Change is a scary thing,” she said. “Diaper changes? Absolutely frightful, depending on how badly it smells.”

I laughed. There were so many amazing things about Mommy that I rarely considered how funny she could be when she wanted to be.

She continued: “I don’t suspect I have much to say that you haven’t thought of yourself. The future is as unknowable as it is inevitable. We’ll see what it is when we get there.”

I nodded.

“I have now doubt this is already in the back of your mind. But take it from me–someone who’s a little more grown up than you: Just live in the moment.”

I took a deep breath before nodding. She was right–I already knew that to be the right answer, though it felt good to hear her say it too.

“But that advice can be deceptive,” she added. “‘Living in the moment’ doesn’t just mean that you take life as it comes at you. I mean, yes, you’re enjoying the moment that you’re in–but you’re also taking the steps that put you in the direction you want to go next. Nothing is certain, but you can at least try.”

It felt odd to laugh at that moment, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Is that funny?”

“No…not at all. But this is such a deep conversation and meanwhile, I’m over here…wetting my diaper again.”

She laughed herself, putting her hand between my legs to feel the diaper as it grew warm and swelled. “See? Living in the moment.”

“Thank you, Mommy. Not just for this conversation. But…for everything.”

“Of course. And thank you.”

I was finally smiling, though my cheeks still felt plenty warm.

“Now then,” she said. “I did have one little thing left to show you. One little gift in my suitcase that I haven’t shown you yet. I was saving it for the last night and, well, here we are.”

“Wh-what is it?”

“Words would do it no justice, my dear. I think you need to see it for yourself.”

I nodded, skeptical but nonetheless excited.

“No time like the present, right?” she asked. “Why don’t I go to the bedroom and get it ready for you. I’ll call you in when I’m ready for you.”

“Of course,” I said. “Thank you, Mommy.”

She kissed me on the head one more time before standing up and walking to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

In an instant, all my worries about ‘the end’ were washed away, and I was suddenly fully committed to trying to imagine what this last surprise was going to be. Given what amazing toys I had already seen, I tried to imagine what was left. An even bigger diaper? An even smaller cage for my cock? A literal cage–like a dog’s crate–that she was somehow able to assemble from parts she kept in her suitcase?

With one hand still on my warm diaper, gently squeezing the squishy padding, I decided to distract myself with my phone. I had a missed text message.

Lyndie: Well, this is the last night, isn’t it? How has the time with Mommy been?

Me: It is. And, as amazing as you could imagine it being.

Lyndie: And how are you spending your final night with her?

Me: I don’t know yet, actually. She has something planned, but it’s a surprise.

Lyndie: Oh. I think I might know what it is…

Me: Seriously? How do you know?

Lyndie: She might have sent me some pics of her arsenal the other day. And it’s one of two things, I think.

Me: Well, she used the remote control plug on me earlier today…

Lyndie: I wish I was a fly on the wall for that.

Me: Don’t worry, the rest of Seattle got to see it.

Lyndie: Damnit. I need a camera crew to start following you and Gabrielle around.

Me: Don’t tell her that. She’d probably think it’s a good idea.

Lyndie: Tempting…

Lyndie: But that means that I know what this final little treat of hers is.

Me: I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me?

Lyndie: [gif of an older Steve Rogers, with text reading: ‘No, I don’t think I will.’]

Texting Lyndie had only made me more curious and excited about what was happening on the other side of the door that seperated me from Mommy. I was tempted to crawl towards it and put my ear on the door.

Patience.

And, really, patience was the answer to all of my woes. Worried about the future? Worried about possible endings? Patience. Savor the now.

I was certainly enjoying this wet diaper. It was amusing to think that there was once a time when I didn’t wear, or even think about, diapers. Now? Even if Mommy was to actually dissipate into thin air tomorrow, I couldn’t imagine myself going on without diapers.

The door finally opened, just a sliver.

“Baby? Come here. But make sure you’re crawling. And make sure that you’re wearing only a diaper.”

That was an easy enough request to honor. I was only wearing a diaper and the undershirt I had been wearing since brunch this morning. I pulled it off and tossed it on the arm of a chair before flopping down on the ground on my hands and knees.

Was there a time when crawling had ever felt strange to me? I couldn’t remember. I’m not sure that I’d say it felt ‘natural’ now, but it at least felt ‘right.’ Expected.

I crawled forward into the great beyond.

She was standing near the bed in just a robe. Or, I assumed it was just a robe. Her slender bare legs stuck out from the bottom of the robe, and the gap between the two halves in front revealed enough cleavage to suggest there was nothing else holding them in place. The key to my cage still hung from her neck, gleaming in the room’s light.

She had a simple question for me: “How does sex sound?”

“W-wait…are you serious?”

“I think it’s finally time, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I said, nodding so hard I wondered if my head would roll off my shoulders.

“I thought you’d be excited about that.”

“A-are you going to…unlock my cage?”

She laughed. I knew that laugh all too well: the ‘oh, you’re such a silly little baby’ laugh.

“I don’t think we need to do that,” she said.

“But…then, how do we…”

She pulled open the robe, revealing her final surprise. Her final gift. Attached to her body by a harness and a series of straps was a bright pink nylon cock.

I was speechless. I looked up at her and her impressive new shaft with my mouth hung open and my eyes wide.

“Well? What do you think, Baby? Think this’ll do?”

I slowly nodded.

“It came with a number of dongs in different shapes and sizes,” she said. “This particular one is recommended for newbies to backdoor adventures. I suspect that you, the little butt-slut you are, could handle a bigger one, but this seemed like a good starting place.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“I’ve put a number of things in your bottom this weekend, and I think we’ve both had a good time with it. But this is what I’ve been working towards–the moment where I get to fuck you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a good long time.”

My nose whistled a little as my breathing came in short bursts, fueled by sheer want.

“P-please,” I said. “Please…fuck me?”

She stepped forward and ran her fingers through my hair. “I think you’ve done enough begging, Baby. You’ve been a good boy this weekend, and you’ve earned this. Up on the bed, now. Let’s get you good and fucked.”

In a matter of moments, I was face down on the mattress with my ass and legs hanging over the edge of the bed. She carefully pulled down the back of my diaper, just enough to expose my backdoor, while leaving my caged cock immersed in the moist padding.

Admittedly, I felt a slight pang of disappointment as I felt the well-lubed member sneaking past my tight muscles and into my hole. Make no mistake, I loved the feeling immensely, and the feeling of the artificial cock being pushed into me still forced a guttural groan from my mouth. But it was a feeling I had experienced a few times this weekend already.

And then, with just the slightest movement of her hips, she made me realize that I hadn’t experienced anything like this before.

The feeling of the prosthetic shaft inside of me was incredible, as it always was. But it was so much more than that. The feeling of the front of her thighs pressing against the back of mine. Her hands positioned on my hips. Even just the way that the cock moved inside of me–she didn’t have the same range of control over it with her hips as she did when she was fucking me with it while holding it in her hands. It just felt…real.

I had no idea if she had ever done a thing like this before, and this certainly wasn’t the time to ask. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, though–and she was doing it very well.

“Fu-uuu-ck…”

“Do you like that?” she asked. “Does that feel good?”

“Yessss,” I hissed, feeling my brain slowly liquify as she continued.

I’m getting fucked senseless.

“Tell me you’re a little baby,” she commanded.

I could barely think, but I opened my mouth and began to vomit words, hoping that they made some semblance of sense: “I’m a baby… I’m a baby. Just a little…unh…tiny…unnh…pathetic baby. Just a fucking disgusting little diaper-filling…oh…baby who needs his Mommy to…fuck…fuck him. Just… Fuck. Just a baby. A big… No, a little… No, I mean, uh, a big…little…? Little…big? Stupid little…unh…baby.”

“As always, you go above and beyond what I ask to make me happy,” she said. “But do you like it? Do you like being a ‘stupid little baby?’”

“Y-yeah…” I muttered, in between desperate breaths and primal grunts.

“Do you like being my stupid little baby?”

“Yes, Mommy,” I practically shouted. “I’m yours!”

“Mmm,” she moaned, deep satisfaction in her tone as she continued to fuck me with her cock. “Yes, you are. You’ll do anything I tell you, won’t you?”

It was getting harder to fit in words between my short breaths and increasingly louder moans. I threw my head up and down, hoping that it came off as a nod.

“When we return to the office, should we just do away with our attempts at illusion? Do we really need people to believe that you are just some college-age adult, taking his first, heh, baby steps into the corporate world? Or should we let everyone see who you really are?”

“Mmmm…”

“Maybe there’s no reason to keep you in adult clothes while you’re at the office. You could be the office baby. I mean…you are, though perhaps not everyone knows that yet. But they should, yes? They should see the baby in his big plump diaper and onesie, crawling around on the floor of the office with a pacifier sticking out of his mouth.”

“Mm. Mm…mmuhhh…”

“It’d probably be good for morale, right? It’d be like having a puppy. An office baby–everyone would love that. Everyone could take turns coddling you. Until you pooped your pants, I suppose. Then, I imagine you’d be sent to Lyndie or I to be changed.”

My body rocked forward and back in rhythm with hers as she fucked me. The longer we went, the better it seemed to get. She probably had a better handle on pleasing someone with a cock than most men–not that I was thinking about that in the moment. My mind was long gone, and all I could do was let her have her way with me. Of course, even if I had my wits about me, that’s all I would’ve wanted anyway.

At one point, I realized my thumb was in my mouth. I was completely sure when that happened, but it felt like it belonged there.

Stupid brainless baby, getting fucked by Mommy while he sucked his thumb in a wet diaper. It seemed so perfect. That dangerous sort of perfection that I’d probably be chasing again for the rest of my life.

But, too, if this wasn’t the end…maybe there were other levels of perfection that I hadn’t even witnessed yet.

“Ah, maybe someday,” she mused aloud, continuing to pound me from behind. “The world just isn’t ready for a completely exposed office-baby.”

And then she laughed, very hard.

“Of course, I could just have my own office building, right? One that encourages babies to crawl around without clothes to conceal their diapers.” Then, as if mostly talking to herself, she muttered: “Of all the fucking times to have an epiphany…”

I’m sure I’d have loved to process that idea a little more, if only she wasn’t bringing me closer and closer to another climax while my cock remained in its cage. Which was fine. Maybe I never needed to be unlocked again if she was going to keep fucking me like this.

Everything ends, I managed to think. Even this.

“Say it again,” she said. “Tell me again how you’re Mommy’s little baby.”

“Baby!” I shouted, barely able to think of many words beyond that. “Me baby!” I wasn’t especially aware of what I was blurting out.

“Yes,” she giggled. “Go on. Tell me more.”

“B-baby… Mommy’s, unh, baby…”

“You’re trying so hard to use your big boy words, aren’t you? I don’t see the point. Go on. Talk to me like the little baby you are.”

“Uhhhhh…” I paused for just a moment before spitting out a series of babbling noises: “Muh…mmghhhh…buh-buh…”

“Good enough,” she said.

I hoped, and believed, that she’d fuck me forever. But I could feel something brewing in me–that unmistakable tension of sexual energy that had just about boiled over. I sucked on my thumb even harder, bracing myself for the end.

I ended. I thoroughly ended, all over the inside of my diaper as I moaned and brayed like a mule, my body convulsing from what was likely the best end I’ve ever had in my entire life.

I think I might have blacked out. Maybe not literally, but I had become so lost in that moment that I had become disconnected from reality. I might have even had an out-of-body experience, watching from elsewhere in the room as Mommy gave me the last few thrusts that caused me to dump my load in my diaper.

“Are you okay?” she asked. The cock was still in my bottom, so it couldn’t have been that long after my climax–though it felt like years had passed and I was just waking up from a coma.

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m pulling myself out now. Are you ready?”

“Mm.”

There were, no doubt, thousands of articles and internet comments written about this very sensation, but it was one that was entirely new to me–her cock had stirred up my bowels something good, and the stimulation had left me badly needing to evacuate.

“D-diaper,” I muttered.

“Oh dear,” she said, likely sensing what was coming. She wasted no time in pulling my soggy diaper back into place.

Flump.

In a single, uncontrollable, moment, I filled the back of my diaper effortlessly. The best sex of my life, followed by, probably, the single best mess of my life. My poor hole–worn out from intense use–barely even registered the forceful exit. But the feeling of the mushy mass against the skin of my bottom was so good that it made up for the inability to feel myself pooping.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner while we played with your backdoor.”

My face had turned a deep red as I slid my thumb in my mouth again. “Thowwy…”

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “It’s what babies do, right? I choose to take it as a compliment–your complete and total transformation into Mommy’s little baby boy.”

That sounded good to me. I nodded slightly, though I was unsure if she saw that or not.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Should I get you cleaned up? Fresh diaper? Maybe a bath?”

I shook my head.

“No?” she asked, laughing. “Then what would you like to do?”

“M-maybe…I could just stay like this for a while?”

“I see nothing wrong with that. Why don’t we do this: I’ll sit on this big chair over here. And you’ll come over and sit on my lap in your stinky and sticky diaper. And we’ll just cuddle for a while. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, Mommy. Please.”

I crawled up into her lap, balling myself up as best as I could in my mushy diaper.

“Tell me another story,” I said.

“I think I know one you might like,” she replied with a wry grin.

“Oh?”

“It’s not quite like my last story. That one had already happened, you know? But this one has yet to occur. But it might.”

“What’s it about?”

“It's about a woman who, at the strangest moment, realizes she’s done everything she’s ever wanted to. She’s achieved everything. She’s at the top of the world. And she wonders if it might be time to set some new goals for herself. Try new things. She wonders what it might be like to stop doing things for other people and to start doing things for herself.”

“Like…she doesn’t want to be a mommy anymore?”

“That might be the one thing she wants to do,” she said. “It’s the rest of it she could do without. The corporate life.”

“I’d like to hear more of that story,” I said.

“Me too,” she said, gently kissing me on the forehead.

She may or may not have had more of that story to tell me, though I’d never know. Exhausted from sex–exhausted from the weekend as a whole–I quickly passed out in her arms.

Everything ends eventually. I had made my peace with that. If I couldn’t stay like this–cuddled into a ball in Mommy’s lap while my bloated diaper’s scent permeated the entire suite–forever, I’d at least stay there for as long as she’d allow.

Epilogue

Somewhere in the midst of being railed from behind my Mommy, I had missed a text message from Lyndie:

Lyndie: Hey do you remember that guy you told me about? Thomas Pritchard? You said he was trying to cause some trouble because of your promotion. Well I did some snooping around and I figured out who it was. We know him. But we called him a different name because we didn’t know his real one. Anderson.

[kirababy]

Outstanding chapter.   One of the best i've read.

[DannyDoo]

Wow!  That was fantastic!  The insight into his thoughts was honest and tender and thrilling.  Thank you for taking us on this stimulating ride (pun intended).

[keith60]

i hope there is more to this story soon 

[keith60]

more story please 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Hello, and welcome to the next part of Doing Business. Think of this as a little intermission in between Seasons 2 and 3. For the next four weeks, you'll be getting short stories from the perspectives of other characters in Doing Business besides Clark. Then, we'll take another short break before Season 3 rolls out.

Now, if you're the impatient type, might I suggest subscribing to my Patreon? All of my subscribers already have access to the Memorandum series and are actually getting the first chapter of Season 3 today! And for only $3 a month, you could be reading that in advance as well!

 

 

Memorandums, Episode One: A Day with Ava

7:15 AM

“I had to throw out some english muffins this morning because they went stale. The package wasn’t even opened yet. And then I looked at the milk in the fridge and that’s barely been touched. I’m going to bet that if I look at the box of cereal in the cabinet, that’s still sealed shut. Seriously, Ava, are you even eating breakfast? I keep buying you this food, only to have to throw it away because you ignore it.”

Which answer was worse: that Ava was eating breakfast–it just wasn’t the food that her mother was buying? Or what her breakfast actually consisted of?

Neither sounded like particularly great answers. “Sorry.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” her mother said, hands still on her hips. “That’s what they say.”

Who were they? Were they big-breakfast? Big corporations who said things like that so parents stocked up on breakfast foods?

“I know, I know,” Ava said. “I, uh, just get so busy in the morning and…”

“You used to eat breakfast everyday,” her mother said, shaking her head. “And ever since you started at that job in the city, you never do. Please don’t tell me you’re spending all your money on overpriced lattes and muffins at the chain coffee shops.”

“N-no…”

“So you’re just…not eating?”

“Uhm…my office serves us breakfast,” Ava said, shrugging. It was sort of true.

“What are they serving you?”

Please, Mom. Don’t make me have to keep lying. “You know…all kinds of stuff. …Milk?”

“Milk? They serve you milk? Sweetie, that’s not breakfast. You need more than milk.”

“I promise. I’m getting breakfast.”

“So should I stop buying breakfast food for the house?”

“I mean…maybe it’d be good to have around on the weekends. Maybe just buy less of it? During the week, I’m all set.”

“I worry about you, Ava.”

“I know, Mom. But I’m a big girl.”

Sort of.

Ava was wearing a diaper as she said that to her mother–a wet diaper, at that. Soon, she’d be grabbing her backpack and heading out the door to go to work, where she’d be breastfed by her boss. None of that supported her claims of being a ‘big girl.’

Actually, it was a bit of a miracle that her mother didn’t know more about Ava’s secret life at work. As far as Ava knew, her mother was never the nosiest of mothers–she seemed to respect Ava’s privacy and autonomy as a blossoming adult. But that trust had left Ava with the takeaway that she could be a little lazier. Her diapers weren’t all that well hidden. There was probably a pacifier sitting on her nightstand. And eventually, her mother would ask why Ava never had panties in her laundry basket.

On top of that, she had been wearing diapers pretty regularly, even when she wasn’t at work. These weren’t thin and discrete undergarments–these were giant diapers that were as fluffy as they were crinkly. She sometimes wondered if she was daring her mother to notice. Did she just want the curtain to be pulled back so that she didn’t have to make the effort–no matter how small–to hide who she was now?

Ava felt she knew her mother well enough that she’d be able to tell if her mother did know. As of right now, that didn’t seem to be the case.

But it seemed inevitable.

7:40 AM

Ava’s mother often asked if Ava was looking to date anyone–a question asked so often, it had devolved into the simple query: ‘Any prospects?’ Translated from the language of maternal love, it meant, roughly: ‘Hey, I love you, but you’re getting a little bit older and I wonder when you’re going to get move out, find a partner, get married, have children, and–eventually–take care of me after I retire.’ Not an exact translation, but this is what it often felt like.

Worse, the question had embedded itself in Ava’s psyche, and she found the question bubbling up in her thoughts regularly these days.

Like as she walked down the street to the subway station to go to work. Any prospects?

No, probably not. Yes, she was in love. But it was a different sort of love than the kind reserved for boyfriends. Or…girlfriends–she hadn’t quite figured out how she felt about that yet. But she knew love. And it was, as most romantic things are, complicated.

Neve Beaufort, Vice President of Product Development. A transplant from Toronto, with her mother actually having spent most of her life in Paris–which probably explained Neve’s spellbinding accent. Two short years ago, Ava had been called into Neve’s office for a meeting that would change the course of her life forever.

Amusingly enough, Ava couldn’t even remember how that conversation went. In fact, she’d often try to imagine what conversation could’ve convinced her to start wearing diapers and suckling from her boss’s breasts, but none ever seemed all that plausible. Maybe I was drugged. Hypnotized. Magic? It didn’t really matter to her much now–this was just how it was these days. She was a baby.

Any prospects?

Well, there was this newish boy in the office named Clark. The two even had a bit in common already–with him being in diapers himself.

Two people, roughly the same age, made to wear diapers and act like infants at work–maybe that was a recipe for some sort of connection. Make no mistake, Ava liked her arrangement with Ms. Beaufort. But it wasn’t like she could tell other people about it. But she could talk to Clark about it, and he’d know exactly what she was talking about. Plus, he was cute. Kind. He seemed to genuinely care about people. Who knows–she might have had a crush on him even if he wasn’t wearing diapers.

Alas, he seemed a little too far up Ms. Heller’s bottom to be able to reciprocate those feelings. Not that she could blame him–it looked like a nice place to be. She had fantasized a few times about visiting Ms. Heller’s ass herself.

Any prospects?

No, probably not. And that was fine. She’d just live her best baby life until she couldn’t anymore.

8:55 AM

“Good morning, Darling. I do adore that skirt on you.” Ms. Beaufort was waiting at her office door, as she usually was in the morning, waiting for Ava.

“Thank you,” Ava said, blushing a little. She had hoped Ms. Beaufort would’ve noticed–she bought the cream-colored skirt because she knew Ms. Beaufort would’ve approved.

“Hungry?”

The question would never not make Ava blush. Too, Ava would always be hungry for Ms. Beaufort’s milk.

“Y-yes.”

“Well then, let’s have a look at your diaper first...”

Ava was already turning herself around and bending over–she knew the routine by now. She felt Ms. Beaufort lifting the back of her skirt into the air so she could closely examine Ava’s diaper. A hand felt and cupped the padding–part of the inspection, but a part that always gave Ava’s nerves a pleasurable little tingle.

“Just a little wet,” Ms. Beaufort reported. “I suspect this one will last a little longer, what do you think?”

“You’re probably right,” Ava said.

Truth be told, Ava was never the best judge of how close to capacity her diapers were. She had a bit of a reputation–first with Ms. Beaufort and now with Lyndie–for being prone to leaks. Rarely ever was it a severe leak–just little damp patches in her pants or skirts. But any leak could prove dangerous while in the office. Ms. Beaufort would try to put Ava’s mind at ease when a little leak had sprung, saying things like: ‘Nobody walks around the office staring at other people’s asses.’ It was nice to hear, but she didn’t believe it to be true.

“On second thought,” Ms. Beaufort said, shaking her head, “I feel like I’m going to regret that later when you come back to my office with a wet spot on the back of your skirt. And with that color skirt? I think it’d be a bit obvious. I’ll feed you first, and then change your diaper.”

“Yes, of course,” Ava said, obediently nodding.

“So if you’ve got anything left in you, you might as well fill the diaper now.”

Ava had another reputation, too–incredibly stinky diapers. Ava didn’t actually believe that her soiled diapers smelled that much worse than anyone else’s would’ve, but maybe she just lacked the experience to know better. She suspected that people just said this to her because they knew how badly it embarrassed her to hear it.

But this reputation–truly earned or not–had given her a little anxiety about using her diapers at work. She had heard the stories about Clark being made to tromp around in his smelly pants, and she was thankful that Ms. Beaufort had never expected the same from her. If Ava was going to mess herself in the office, this was probably the time to do it.

“We’ve got a busy day,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Let’s get it started.”

This was a pretty standard start to the day, Ms. Beaufort planting herself on the far end of the small sofa in her office, unbuttoning her blouse and loosening her bra, while Ava positioned herself across the rest of the sofa–her head supported by Ms. Beaufort’s hand as Ava latched onto the nipple. As Ava began to suckle, Ms. Beaufort took a moment or two to settle herself with a gentle moan before going over the day’s itinerary.

“We have that meeting with, uff, Paul Fellows over on the 4th floor today. I’m grateful for how hard, mmm, you tried to get that meeting cancelled or rescheduled, but it’s not your fault the man is so damn stubborn. Honestly, it’s probably for the best we get this meeting over with. The sooner we talk to him, the, mmf, longer we have until the next time we have to discuss expense accounts.”

Ava gave an approving moan directly into Ms. Beaufort’s tit as she continued her meal.

“There’s another meeting this afternoon with the creative team. I’m not sure why we were invited to this one, it’s regarding projects that we, ohh, aren’t going to be responsible for. But that’s fine–I do love a meeting we can daydream our way through.”

Another subtle, wet, mumble from Ava’s lips.

“Careful down there,” Ms. Beaufort said, gently stroking Ava’s hair with her free hand. “I didn’t put your bib on you today, and I’d hate to see you dribble all over your top.”

Few things made Ava blush as much as needing a bib wrapped around her neck before she began to suckle from Ms. Beaufort’s dress. Even the mention of it now had turned her cheeks a lovely shade of fuschia.

“Anyway,” Ms. Beaufort continued, getting back on topic, “it’s looking like a pretty standard day. If you haven’t finished compiling the numbers from the, errm, sales team yet, I was hoping to have them ready by tomorrow morning. Do you think that’s doable?”

“Mmhmm,” Ava answered, face still pressed tightly against her breast.

“Very good. Now then, let’s finish feeding you so we can get on with our day. Oh–and don’t forget to finish filling up your diaper.”

Ava made a half-hearted effort to push on her bowels, but the tank seemed empty for now. Probably for the best. But another wetting seemed quite possible, and she allowed herself to flood her already-moist diaper. Ava had long maintained that using her diaper while breastfeeding was a pleasure unlike any other–near orgasmic at times. Someday, she hoped, she’d reach climax just from pissing her diaper while sucking from Ms. Beaufort’s chest.

“I know that look,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Is someone piddling their pants?”

Ava offered a little nod.

“Thought so. Get it all out. We’ll get you into a fresh diaper and then we’ll get started on the less-fun parts of our day.”

11:15 AM

“What are you doing for lunch today?” Lyndie asked.

Ava had made few friends in the post-college world, and she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to build a new social network in the office while wearing a diaper. Maybe this was why she had been so excited about the new addition of Clark and Lyndie to her world. Clark was, well, a cute boy–and it had been a while since she was excited about one of those.

Lyndie was something else, though. She was cool. Calm and collected. Compassionate, but snarky. She was the big sister Ava had always wished she had–even if she was pretty sure that Lyndie was younger than she was.

Sometimes, Ava just wanted to be sitting in front of a TV that played a trashy reality TV show while her and Lyndie stared ahead in pajamas. Sometimes, she wondered what Lyndie’s lips tasted like.

“I, uhm, didn’t have any plans,” Ava responded.

“Not milk?” Lyndie teased.

“N-no…that was breakfast.”

“Good. How about you and me go grab some pizza for lunch.”

“That sounds great,” Ava said, tapping the imaginary brakes so that she didn’t sound too excited. “I assume that Clark is coming?”

“I’ve had enough of him and his smelly bottom for today.”

Ava wasn’t exactly sure what the context was for this gripe, but she could use her imagination a little.

“I promise I won’t, uh, stink.”

Lyndie snort-laughed and nodded. “All I’m asking for is an hour without having to smell someone’s dirty diaper. You can handle that, right?”

Ava shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

12:10 PM

Ava was in no rush to touch her steaming-hot pizza. First hand experience had taught her to be wary of the catastrophic damage the hot cheese would do to the roof of her mouth.

Lyndie, on the other hand, either had no regard for the safety of her mouth, or she had a mouth like a furnace–capable of ingesting fiery hot coals if she had to. There was no hesitation on her part, she simply lifted the slab of molten cheese and sauce and shoved it into her mouth. No flinching. No obvious pain. No expression that would suggest that she had made a terrible mistake. Ava was in awe.

“So,” Lyndie said, swallowing the last of her initial bite of pizza. “Is it weird that I don’t know that much about you? I’ve changed your diapers, and yet I have no idea what you’re into.”

The statement was offered with such blase indifference that it took Ava a moment to realize that she had just openly talked about her diapers at the pizza place. Her cheeks were glowing, but she did her best to match Lyndie’s nonchalant tone.

“Y-yeah, that is pretty funny,” she replied. “Well, what do you want to know? You’ve seen the worst of me, I guess. Seems like there’s no point in hiding anything else.”

“The worst?” Lyndie asked, grinning mischievously. “I’ve heard about the putrid diapers you’re capable of. I haven’t experienced that just yet.”

Ava shrugged, her cheeks turning a deeper pink. “Uh, yeah, Ms. Beaufort does seem to like to tell people that… I’ve never really had anything to compare it to though. Maybe Ms. Beaufort hasn’t either. And so if Clark is going to be messing his diaper too…”

“Oh, this is a good idea,” Lyndie said, nodding as she started chewing her next bite. “We’ll have a stink-off to see which baby makes a more revolting diaper.”

“I don’t think I’d want to win that.”

“I’m making a note of this in my phone,” Lyndie said, quickly tapping away at the screen of her phone. “But go on, I still want to know more about you. Favorite…band?”

“I usually tell people it’s The Beach Boys.”

“But your actual favorite band is…”

Ava cringed a little. “BTS?”

“I don’t think I know what that is.”

“The, uhm, K-Pop boy band?”

“Oh right,” Lyndie said, chuckling behind her hand. “Well…I mean, you like what you like…”

“Their songs are catchy,” Ava said, sounding like she was trying to justify it to herself too. “I don’t know. It’s a guilty pleasure.”

“There’s no such thing,” Ava said. “If it brings you pleasure, it’s just a pleasure. You shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about it.”

“I guess I could say the same for diapers…”

“Find them to be pleasurable, do you?”

“Maybe,” Ava said. “It’s not just diapers, though. It’s everything–the big picture. The coddling and the way that Ms. Beaufort takes care of me.”

“The breastmilk?”

Ava laughed, seeming to shake some of the nervous energy she had at the start of her meal. “Oh my god. It’s my favorite thing in the entire world. You have to try it.”

Now it was Lyndie who was blushing a little. “Me? Oh, I dunno. I’m not a, uh, baby myself and…”

“I’m positive that I could convince Ms. Beaufort to let you try sometime. If you wanted.”

“I’ll think about that.”

“Please do,” Ava said.

“Back to you, though. Live alone?”

“No. I live with my mother.”

“That sounds…dangerous. You don’t go waltzing around the house in a diaper, do you? Or…does she know?”

“No, she doesn’t know,’ Ava said, sighing a little. “Or, at least, I pray that she doesn’t know. I try to be careful around her, but…I know I’m slipping a little. Getting a little too comfortable with my role as baby, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Lyndie replied.

“What about you?” Ava asked. “I feel like I don’t know you all that well myself. Do you live alone?”

“Not yet,” Lyndie said. “But I’m working on it.”

“This sounds interesting.”

“I’m living with my ex. We just broke up a few weeks ago. He swears he’s trying to get a new place to live but it seems to be taking forever.”

“Oh jeez,” Ava said, shaking her head. “That sounds terrible. Do the two of you get along?”

“Not especially,” Lyndie laughed. “Even that foundation of friendship gets trashed when someone cheats on you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope you get out of that situation soon.”

“Me too. I suspect he’s going to be gone sooner than later. If I’m being honest, I’ve never been all that excited about living alone–but I think I’d prefer that to living with him.”

“Well, uh, if you do manage to get his ass out the door and you’re looking for a new roommate…”

“Yeah?” Lyndie asked, eyebrows raised as she smiled. “You’d be interested?”

“I’ve never lived on my own before, so I can’t promise I’d be the best roommate.”

“And you do smell bad. Supposedly.”

“I would never want to subject you to my diapers both in the office and at home, though.”

“I’m just teasing,” Lyndie said. “I love the idea, personally. If you’re serious, that’d only give me more ammunition to push my ex out the door.”

“I think…I’d really like that,” Ava said, nodding and smiling as she imagined the perfect world where she got to live with someone as cool as Lyndie.

“I think I’d like that too,” Lyndie replied.

1:35 PM

“We’re due in that meeting with creative in a few minutes,” Ms. Beaufort said from behind her desk. “How are you doing on the reporting from sales? If you need the extra time to get that done, I’m thinking you don’t have to join me at this meeting.”

“All done,” Ava said proudly. “I just shared the file with you a few minutes ago.”

“Good girl,” Ms. Beaufort replied, smiling wide. “And your diaper?”

“Damp,” Ava said.

“Bend over, love. I should probably check it again now. That meeting is going to be a long one.”

3:40 PM

“I thought that meeting was only supposed to be a half hour long,” Ava said to Ms. Beaufort as they quickly marched down the hall towards Ms. Beaufort’s office.

“Almost two hours!” Ms. Beaufort exclaimed. “Such a waste of time.”

“I, uhm… I think I might have…”

“Why do you think we’re walking so quickly?” she said to Ava. “You’ve got a damp spot on the back of your skirt. How much did you wet yourself during that meeting?”

“I had a lot to drink at lunch, I guess.”

“Tsk tsk,” Ms. Beaufort clucked, sounding only half-sarcastic. “I’m wondering if I need to get you thicker diapers.”

“I…I dunno about that. These are pretty loud as is.”

“I think about it. But what’s the point of diapers if you’re going to keep leaking through them?”

“Why don’t you head down to the nursery. Let Lyndie take care of you. I would, but…I’m expecting a guest or two in my office in a few minutes.”

“S-sure,” Ava replied.

3:50 PM

“Oh, come on,” Lyndie cooed. “It won’t be that bad.”

“No way! I’m not just going to…poop myself for your pleasure.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it just for my pleasure,” Lyndie shrugged. “You haven’t pooped all day, right?”

“Right…”

“So you probably have to go. And you’re in the nursery already. Why not just…do it.”

“I don’t know,” Ava said. “It would be so weird. Having someone watch me…go?”

“Do you know how many times I’ve watched Clark fill his diaper?”

“R-really? How many times?”

“Well, maybe just once or twice. But that still seems like enough. I promise, this will stay between you and me. Just fill up your diaper, and then we’ll get you onto the changing table and into something fresher.”

“You’re…not going to make fun of me?”

“Oh, I might do that,” Lyndie laughed. “But I’m going to take care of you too.”

With a little more coaxing, and a number of sighs, Ava found herself squatting in the center of the nursery, pushing a sizable log into the back of her diaper. She groaned and grunted as she pushed, all the while, catching glimpses of Lyndie’s smiling face from the corner of her eye.

5:15 PM

Ava walked down the street, heading towards the subway station. Another day down.

Usually, this walk was a peaceful one–a time to distance herself from the chaos of the workday, while centering herself in preparation for another night of wearing diapers at home without her mother finding out.  Today, however, she had a lot to think about. Stink-offs–whatever they were. The possibility of thicker diapers. Pooping her pants with an audience. And Lyndie.

The idea of being able to live with Lyndie was very exciting. Living with her mother had been fine, but it had also been a little stifling. There had been little growth. Little finding herself. She needed to blossom. She needed to…grow up.

While wearing diapers, of course. Ava wasn’t ready to give those up anytime soon.

7:15 PM

“How was work today?” her mother asked.

Neither had ever planned for it to be like this, but a routine had developed over the last few years. Ava would come home from work, change into some more comfortable clothes, and then they’d have dinner together. Then, her mother would put a kettle on the stove and make some tea for them. Over a cup of hot tea, and usually with some dessert of some sort, they’d talk about their days.

Tonight, they were splitting a sticky bun.

“It was, uhm, good,” Ava answered, glazing over the leaking diaper and stinky mess of her afternoon.

Ava wanted to bring up the prospect of moving in with Lyndie, but she decided she wasn’t ready for that conversation just yet. It might have been too soon, for one–Lyndie didn’t even have the vacancy just yet. But, also, Ava wasn’t sure how her mother would take the news. Surely she knew that Ava would have to move out at some point, but that didn’t make the conversation any easier.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” her mother said.

“Hmm?” Ava replied, a little absentmindedly. She was thinking about what her imaginary room in Lyndie’s apartment would look like.

“I had to go into your room today. I didn’t want to snoop around or anything, but I thought you might still have the vacuum cleaner in your room.”

Now she had Ava’s attention.

“Oh, right,” Ava said, cautiously. “I should’ve returned that to the closet the other day. I assume you found it?”

“I did,” her mother said, nodding. “But I also found some other things that didn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

Ava’s heart pounded in her chest. “Oh? Like…what?”

“Diapers? Pacifiers?”

Red alert. Red alert. This was the moment that Ava had been trying to prepare herself for since the very first night she wore a diaper home from work. But no amount of stressing or thinking about it had ever prepared her for the actual moment her mother confronted her about it.

“Ava…are you one of those people who like to dress up as a…baby?”

[babyheadspace]

This is a great development I like the way. The story is going thank you so much.

[littlebopeeper]

Is this corporation hiring?

[bigbear95]

NOOOOO!! How could you leave us on a cliffhanger like this!?! What’s more, how does the mom know about “those” people?? Next week can’t come soon enough now. 
 

Great work. 

[Babypants]

In the immortal words of an old TV program-- Welcome Back, Kotter!

Nice cliffhanger, but please tell us how Ava's mother knows about AB/DL.  

[keith60]

i hope there is more 

[Electrically]

6 hours ago, quietlyhumiliated said:

Hello, and welcome to the next part of Doing Business. Think of this as a little intermission in between Seasons 2 and 3. For the next four weeks, you'll be getting short stories from the perspectives of other characters in Doing Business besides Clark. Then, we'll take another short break before Season 3 rolls out.

Now, if you're the impatient type, might I suggest subscribing to my Patreon? All of my subscribers already have access to the Memorandum series and are actually getting the first chapter of Season 3 today! And for only $3 a month, you could be reading that in advance as well!

 

 

Memorandums, Episode One: A Day with Ava

7:15 AM

“I had to throw out some english muffins this morning because they went stale. The package wasn’t even opened yet. And then I looked at the milk in the fridge and that’s barely been touched. I’m going to bet that if I look at the box of cereal in the cabinet, that’s still sealed shut. Seriously, Ava, are you even eating breakfast? I keep buying you this food, only to have to throw it away because you ignore it.”

Which answer was worse: that Ava was eating breakfast–it just wasn’t the food that her mother was buying? Or what her breakfast actually consisted of?

Neither sounded like particularly great answers. “Sorry.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” her mother said, hands still on her hips. “That’s what they say.”

Who were they? Were they big-breakfast? Big corporations who said things like that so parents stocked up on breakfast foods?

“I know, I know,” Ava said. “I, uh, just get so busy in the morning and…”

“You used to eat breakfast everyday,” her mother said, shaking her head. “And ever since you started at that job in the city, you never do. Please don’t tell me you’re spending all your money on overpriced lattes and muffins at the chain coffee shops.”

“N-no…”

“So you’re just…not eating?”

“Uhm…my office serves us breakfast,” Ava said, shrugging. It was sort of true.

“What are they serving you?”

Please, Mom. Don’t make me have to keep lying. “You know…all kinds of stuff. …Milk?”

“Milk? They serve you milk? Sweetie, that’s not breakfast. You need more than milk.”

“I promise. I’m getting breakfast.”

“So should I stop buying breakfast food for the house?”

“I mean…maybe it’d be good to have around on the weekends. Maybe just buy less of it? During the week, I’m all set.”

“I worry about you, Ava.”

“I know, Mom. But I’m a big girl.”

Sort of.

Ava was wearing a diaper as she said that to her mother–a wet diaper, at that. Soon, she’d be grabbing her backpack and heading out the door to go to work, where she’d be breastfed by her boss. None of that supported her claims of being a ‘big girl.’

Actually, it was a bit of a miracle that her mother didn’t know more about Ava’s secret life at work. As far as Ava knew, her mother was never the nosiest of mothers–she seemed to respect Ava’s privacy and autonomy as a blossoming adult. But that trust had left Ava with the takeaway that she could be a little lazier. Her diapers weren’t all that well hidden. There was probably a pacifier sitting on her nightstand. And eventually, her mother would ask why Ava never had panties in her laundry basket.

On top of that, she had been wearing diapers pretty regularly, even when she wasn’t at work. These weren’t thin and discrete undergarments–these were giant diapers that were as fluffy as they were crinkly. She sometimes wondered if she was daring her mother to notice. Did she just want the curtain to be pulled back so that she didn’t have to make the effort–no matter how small–to hide who she was now?

Ava felt she knew her mother well enough that she’d be able to tell if her mother did know. As of right now, that didn’t seem to be the case.

But it seemed inevitable.

7:40 AM

Ava’s mother often asked if Ava was looking to date anyone–a question asked so often, it had devolved into the simple query: ‘Any prospects?’ Translated from the language of maternal love, it meant, roughly: ‘Hey, I love you, but you’re getting a little bit older and I wonder when you’re going to get move out, find a partner, get married, have children, and–eventually–take care of me after I retire.’ Not an exact translation, but this is what it often felt like.

Worse, the question had embedded itself in Ava’s psyche, and she found the question bubbling up in her thoughts regularly these days.

Like as she walked down the street to the subway station to go to work. Any prospects?

No, probably not. Yes, she was in love. But it was a different sort of love than the kind reserved for boyfriends. Or…girlfriends–she hadn’t quite figured out how she felt about that yet. But she knew love. And it was, as most romantic things are, complicated.

Neve Beaufort, Vice President of Product Development. A transplant from Toronto, with her mother actually having spent most of her life in Paris–which probably explained Neve’s spellbinding accent. Two short years ago, Ava had been called into Neve’s office for a meeting that would change the course of her life forever.

Amusingly enough, Ava couldn’t even remember how that conversation went. In fact, she’d often try to imagine what conversation could’ve convinced her to start wearing diapers and suckling from her boss’s breasts, but none ever seemed all that plausible. Maybe I was drugged. Hypnotized. Magic? It didn’t really matter to her much now–this was just how it was these days. She was a baby.

Any prospects?

Well, there was this newish boy in the office named Clark. The two even had a bit in common already–with him being in diapers himself.

Two people, roughly the same age, made to wear diapers and act like infants at work–maybe that was a recipe for some sort of connection. Make no mistake, Ava liked her arrangement with Ms. Beaufort. But it wasn’t like she could tell other people about it. But she could talk to Clark about it, and he’d know exactly what she was talking about. Plus, he was cute. Kind. He seemed to genuinely care about people. Who knows–she might have had a crush on him even if he wasn’t wearing diapers.

Alas, he seemed a little too far up Ms. Heller’s bottom to be able to reciprocate those feelings. Not that she could blame him–it looked like a nice place to be. She had fantasized a few times about visiting Ms. Heller’s ass herself.

Any prospects?

No, probably not. And that was fine. She’d just live her best baby life until she couldn’t anymore.

8:55 AM

“Good morning, Darling. I do adore that skirt on you.” Ms. Beaufort was waiting at her office door, as she usually was in the morning, waiting for Ava.

“Thank you,” Ava said, blushing a little. She had hoped Ms. Beaufort would’ve noticed–she bought the cream-colored skirt because she knew Ms. Beaufort would’ve approved.

“Hungry?”

The question would never not make Ava blush. Too, Ava would always be hungry for Ms. Beaufort’s milk.

“Y-yes.”

“Well then, let’s have a look at your diaper first...”

Ava was already turning herself around and bending over–she knew the routine by now. She felt Ms. Beaufort lifting the back of her skirt into the air so she could closely examine Ava’s diaper. A hand felt and cupped the padding–part of the inspection, but a part that always gave Ava’s nerves a pleasurable little tingle.

“Just a little wet,” Ms. Beaufort reported. “I suspect this one will last a little longer, what do you think?”

“You’re probably right,” Ava said.

Truth be told, Ava was never the best judge of how close to capacity her diapers were. She had a bit of a reputation–first with Ms. Beaufort and now with Lyndie–for being prone to leaks. Rarely ever was it a severe leak–just little damp patches in her pants or skirts. But any leak could prove dangerous while in the office. Ms. Beaufort would try to put Ava’s mind at ease when a little leak had sprung, saying things like: ‘Nobody walks around the office staring at other people’s asses.’ It was nice to hear, but she didn’t believe it to be true.

“On second thought,” Ms. Beaufort said, shaking her head, “I feel like I’m going to regret that later when you come back to my office with a wet spot on the back of your skirt. And with that color skirt? I think it’d be a bit obvious. I’ll feed you first, and then change your diaper.”

“Yes, of course,” Ava said, obediently nodding.

“So if you’ve got anything left in you, you might as well fill the diaper now.”

Ava had another reputation, too–incredibly stinky diapers. Ava didn’t actually believe that her soiled diapers smelled that much worse than anyone else’s would’ve, but maybe she just lacked the experience to know better. She suspected that people just said this to her because they knew how badly it embarrassed her to hear it.

But this reputation–truly earned or not–had given her a little anxiety about using her diapers at work. She had heard the stories about Clark being made to tromp around in his smelly pants, and she was thankful that Ms. Beaufort had never expected the same from her. If Ava was going to mess herself in the office, this was probably the time to do it.

“We’ve got a busy day,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Let’s get it started.”

This was a pretty standard start to the day, Ms. Beaufort planting herself on the far end of the small sofa in her office, unbuttoning her blouse and loosening her bra, while Ava positioned herself across the rest of the sofa–her head supported by Ms. Beaufort’s hand as Ava latched onto the nipple. As Ava began to suckle, Ms. Beaufort took a moment or two to settle herself with a gentle moan before going over the day’s itinerary.

“We have that meeting with, uff, Paul Fellows over on the 4th floor today. I’m grateful for how hard, mmm, you tried to get that meeting cancelled or rescheduled, but it’s not your fault the man is so damn stubborn. Honestly, it’s probably for the best we get this meeting over with. The sooner we talk to him, the, mmf, longer we have until the next time we have to discuss expense accounts.”

Ava gave an approving moan directly into Ms. Beaufort’s tit as she continued her meal.

“There’s another meeting this afternoon with the creative team. I’m not sure why we were invited to this one, it’s regarding projects that we, ohh, aren’t going to be responsible for. But that’s fine–I do love a meeting we can daydream our way through.”

Another subtle, wet, mumble from Ava’s lips.

“Careful down there,” Ms. Beaufort said, gently stroking Ava’s hair with her free hand. “I didn’t put your bib on you today, and I’d hate to see you dribble all over your top.”

Few things made Ava blush as much as needing a bib wrapped around her neck before she began to suckle from Ms. Beaufort’s dress. Even the mention of it now had turned her cheeks a lovely shade of fuschia.

“Anyway,” Ms. Beaufort continued, getting back on topic, “it’s looking like a pretty standard day. If you haven’t finished compiling the numbers from the, errm, sales team yet, I was hoping to have them ready by tomorrow morning. Do you think that’s doable?”

“Mmhmm,” Ava answered, face still pressed tightly against her breast.

“Very good. Now then, let’s finish feeding you so we can get on with our day. Oh–and don’t forget to finish filling up your diaper.”

Ava made a half-hearted effort to push on her bowels, but the tank seemed empty for now. Probably for the best. But another wetting seemed quite possible, and she allowed herself to flood her already-moist diaper. Ava had long maintained that using her diaper while breastfeeding was a pleasure unlike any other–near orgasmic at times. Someday, she hoped, she’d reach climax just from pissing her diaper while sucking from Ms. Beaufort’s chest.

“I know that look,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Is someone piddling their pants?”

Ava offered a little nod.

“Thought so. Get it all out. We’ll get you into a fresh diaper and then we’ll get started on the less-fun parts of our day.”

11:15 AM

“What are you doing for lunch today?” Lyndie asked.

Ava had made few friends in the post-college world, and she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to build a new social network in the office while wearing a diaper. Maybe this was why she had been so excited about the new addition of Clark and Lyndie to her world. Clark was, well, a cute boy–and it had been a while since she was excited about one of those.

Lyndie was something else, though. She was cool. Calm and collected. Compassionate, but snarky. She was the big sister Ava had always wished she had–even if she was pretty sure that Lyndie was younger than she was.

Sometimes, Ava just wanted to be sitting in front of a TV that played a trashy reality TV show while her and Lyndie stared ahead in pajamas. Sometimes, she wondered what Lyndie’s lips tasted like.

“I, uhm, didn’t have any plans,” Ava responded.

“Not milk?” Lyndie teased.

“N-no…that was breakfast.”

“Good. How about you and me go grab some pizza for lunch.”

“That sounds great,” Ava said, tapping the imaginary brakes so that she didn’t sound too excited. “I assume that Clark is coming?”

“I’ve had enough of him and his smelly bottom for today.”

Ava wasn’t exactly sure what the context was for this gripe, but she could use her imagination a little.

“I promise I won’t, uh, stink.”

Lyndie snort-laughed and nodded. “All I’m asking for is an hour without having to smell someone’s dirty diaper. You can handle that, right?”

Ava shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

12:10 PM

Ava was in no rush to touch her steaming-hot pizza. First hand experience had taught her to be wary of the catastrophic damage the hot cheese would do to the roof of her mouth.

Lyndie, on the other hand, either had no regard for the safety of her mouth, or she had a mouth like a furnace–capable of ingesting fiery hot coals if she had to. There was no hesitation on her part, she simply lifted the slab of molten cheese and sauce and shoved it into her mouth. No flinching. No obvious pain. No expression that would suggest that she had made a terrible mistake. Ava was in awe.

“So,” Lyndie said, swallowing the last of her initial bite of pizza. “Is it weird that I don’t know that much about you? I’ve changed your diapers, and yet I have no idea what you’re into.”

The statement was offered with such blase indifference that it took Ava a moment to realize that she had just openly talked about her diapers at the pizza place. Her cheeks were glowing, but she did her best to match Lyndie’s nonchalant tone.

“Y-yeah, that is pretty funny,” she replied. “Well, what do you want to know? You’ve seen the worst of me, I guess. Seems like there’s no point in hiding anything else.”

“The worst?” Lyndie asked, grinning mischievously. “I’ve heard about the putrid diapers you’re capable of. I haven’t experienced that just yet.”

Ava shrugged, her cheeks turning a deeper pink. “Uh, yeah, Ms. Beaufort does seem to like to tell people that… I’ve never really had anything to compare it to though. Maybe Ms. Beaufort hasn’t either. And so if Clark is going to be messing his diaper too…”

“Oh, this is a good idea,” Lyndie said, nodding as she started chewing her next bite. “We’ll have a stink-off to see which baby makes a more revolting diaper.”

“I don’t think I’d want to win that.”

“I’m making a note of this in my phone,” Lyndie said, quickly tapping away at the screen of her phone. “But go on, I still want to know more about you. Favorite…band?”

“I usually tell people it’s The Beach Boys.”

“But your actual favorite band is…”

Ava cringed a little. “BTS?”

“I don’t think I know what that is.”

“The, uhm, K-Pop boy band?”

“Oh right,” Lyndie said, chuckling behind her hand. “Well…I mean, you like what you like…”

“Their songs are catchy,” Ava said, sounding like she was trying to justify it to herself too. “I don’t know. It’s a guilty pleasure.”

“There’s no such thing,” Ava said. “If it brings you pleasure, it’s just a pleasure. You shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about it.”

“I guess I could say the same for diapers…”

“Find them to be pleasurable, do you?”

“Maybe,” Ava said. “It’s not just diapers, though. It’s everything–the big picture. The coddling and the way that Ms. Beaufort takes care of me.”

“The breastmilk?”

Ava laughed, seeming to shake some of the nervous energy she had at the start of her meal. “Oh my god. It’s my favorite thing in the entire world. You have to try it.”

Now it was Lyndie who was blushing a little. “Me? Oh, I dunno. I’m not a, uh, baby myself and…”

“I’m positive that I could convince Ms. Beaufort to let you try sometime. If you wanted.”

“I’ll think about that.”

“Please do,” Ava said.

“Back to you, though. Live alone?”

“No. I live with my mother.”

“That sounds…dangerous. You don’t go waltzing around the house in a diaper, do you? Or…does she know?”

“No, she doesn’t know,’ Ava said, sighing a little. “Or, at least, I pray that she doesn’t know. I try to be careful around her, but…I know I’m slipping a little. Getting a little too comfortable with my role as baby, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Lyndie replied.

“What about you?” Ava asked. “I feel like I don’t know you all that well myself. Do you live alone?”

“Not yet,” Lyndie said. “But I’m working on it.”

“This sounds interesting.”

“I’m living with my ex. We just broke up a few weeks ago. He swears he’s trying to get a new place to live but it seems to be taking forever.”

“Oh jeez,” Ava said, shaking her head. “That sounds terrible. Do the two of you get along?”

“Not especially,” Lyndie laughed. “Even that foundation of friendship gets trashed when someone cheats on you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope you get out of that situation soon.”

“Me too. I suspect he’s going to be gone sooner than later. If I’m being honest, I’ve never been all that excited about living alone–but I think I’d prefer that to living with him.”

“Well, uh, if you do manage to get his ass out the door and you’re looking for a new roommate…”

“Yeah?” Lyndie asked, eyebrows raised as she smiled. “You’d be interested?”

“I’ve never lived on my own before, so I can’t promise I’d be the best roommate.”

“And you do smell bad. Supposedly.”

“I would never want to subject you to my diapers both in the office and at home, though.”

“I’m just teasing,” Lyndie said. “I love the idea, personally. If you’re serious, that’d only give me more ammunition to push my ex out the door.”

“I think…I’d really like that,” Ava said, nodding and smiling as she imagined the perfect world where she got to live with someone as cool as Lyndie.

“I think I’d like that too,” Lyndie replied.

1:35 PM

“We’re due in that meeting with creative in a few minutes,” Ms. Beaufort said from behind her desk. “How are you doing on the reporting from sales? If you need the extra time to get that done, I’m thinking you don’t have to join me at this meeting.”

“All done,” Ava said proudly. “I just shared the file with you a few minutes ago.”

“Good girl,” Ms. Beaufort replied, smiling wide. “And your diaper?”

“Damp,” Ava said.

“Bend over, love. I should probably check it again now. That meeting is going to be a long one.”

3:40 PM

“I thought that meeting was only supposed to be a half hour long,” Ava said to Ms. Beaufort as they quickly marched down the hall towards Ms. Beaufort’s office.

“Almost two hours!” Ms. Beaufort exclaimed. “Such a waste of time.”

“I, uhm… I think I might have…”

“Why do you think we’re walking so quickly?” she said to Ava. “You’ve got a damp spot on the back of your skirt. How much did you wet yourself during that meeting?”

“I had a lot to drink at lunch, I guess.”

“Tsk tsk,” Ms. Beaufort clucked, sounding only half-sarcastic. “I’m wondering if I need to get you thicker diapers.”

“I…I dunno about that. These are pretty loud as is.”

“I think about it. But what’s the point of diapers if you’re going to keep leaking through them?”

“Why don’t you head down to the nursery. Let Lyndie take care of you. I would, but…I’m expecting a guest or two in my office in a few minutes.”

“S-sure,” Ava replied.

3:50 PM

“Oh, come on,” Lyndie cooed. “It won’t be that bad.”

“No way! I’m not just going to…poop myself for your pleasure.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it just for my pleasure,” Lyndie shrugged. “You haven’t pooped all day, right?”

“Right…”

“So you probably have to go. And you’re in the nursery already. Why not just…do it.”

“I don’t know,” Ava said. “It would be so weird. Having someone watch me…go?”

“Do you know how many times I’ve watched Clark fill his diaper?”

“R-really? How many times?”

“Well, maybe just once or twice. But that still seems like enough. I promise, this will stay between you and me. Just fill up your diaper, and then we’ll get you onto the changing table and into something fresher.”

“You’re…not going to make fun of me?”

“Oh, I might do that,” Lyndie laughed. “But I’m going to take care of you too.”

With a little more coaxing, and a number of sighs, Ava found herself squatting in the center of the nursery, pushing a sizable log into the back of her diaper. She groaned and grunted as she pushed, all the while, catching glimpses of Lyndie’s smiling face from the corner of her eye.

5:15 PM

Ava walked down the street, heading towards the subway station. Another day down.

Usually, this walk was a peaceful one–a time to distance herself from the chaos of the workday, while centering herself in preparation for another night of wearing diapers at home without her mother finding out.  Today, however, she had a lot to think about. Stink-offs–whatever they were. The possibility of thicker diapers. Pooping her pants with an audience. And Lyndie.

The idea of being able to live with Lyndie was very exciting. Living with her mother had been fine, but it had also been a little stifling. There had been little growth. Little finding herself. She needed to blossom. She needed to…grow up.

While wearing diapers, of course. Ava wasn’t ready to give those up anytime soon.

7:15 PM

“How was work today?” her mother asked.

Neither had ever planned for it to be like this, but a routine had developed over the last few years. Ava would come home from work, change into some more comfortable clothes, and then they’d have dinner together. Then, her mother would put a kettle on the stove and make some tea for them. Over a cup of hot tea, and usually with some dessert of some sort, they’d talk about their days.

Tonight, they were splitting a sticky bun.

“It was, uhm, good,” Ava answered, glazing over the leaking diaper and stinky mess of her afternoon.

Ava wanted to bring up the prospect of moving in with Lyndie, but she decided she wasn’t ready for that conversation just yet. It might have been too soon, for one–Lyndie didn’t even have the vacancy just yet. But, also, Ava wasn’t sure how her mother would take the news. Surely she knew that Ava would have to move out at some point, but that didn’t make the conversation any easier.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” her mother said.

“Hmm?” Ava replied, a little absentmindedly. She was thinking about what her imaginary room in Lyndie’s apartment would look like.

“I had to go into your room today. I didn’t want to snoop around or anything, but I thought you might still have the vacuum cleaner in your room.”

Now she had Ava’s attention.

“Oh, right,” Ava said, cautiously. “I should’ve returned that to the closet the other day. I assume you found it?”

“I did,” her mother said, nodding. “But I also found some other things that didn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

Ava’s heart pounded in her chest. “Oh? Like…what?”

“Diapers? Pacifiers?”

Red alert. Red alert. This was the moment that Ava had been trying to prepare herself for since the very first night she wore a diaper home from work. But no amount of stressing or thinking about it had ever prepared her for the actual moment her mother confronted her about it.

“Ava…are you one of those people who like to dress up as a…baby?”

This is such a fun story 

I love your wit and character development 

really good 😊 

[D503]

Stink off! Hahahaha

Sounds like Ava needs some booster pads. I hope her mother is ok - be very interesting to see how that plays out. And I hope Clarky builds up enough courage to ask Ava out 

[Babytom948]

Is this moving off into a side story?

[kirababy]

Love the exploration of the other characters a bit - will make all their interactions more meaningful as we go on.