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

[quietlyhumiliated]

As always, thank you for continuing to read my story. I appreciate you!

Forty-Four

Four days until my mother visits.

I had only missed a day–a day and a half, tops –of work, and yet I felt like I hadn’t walked down the halls of the office building in months. Everything seemed exactly the same. As it probably should’ve.

“There’s the big baby,” a familiar voice said. Lyndie appeared from seemingly nowhere, walking at my side.

“Hey, Lyndie. Do you, uh, have to say the b-word so loud in the office?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I missed you, you paranoid little baby.” She said that last word a bit louder than she had the first time.

Still, as best as I could tell, nobody heard her. Nobody cared.

“How was your weekend?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said with a shrug. “It wasn’t as exciting as yours, but whose could be?”

“I’d love nothing more than having a really chill and normal weekend,” I said. “Like, I want that more than anything.”

She shrugged. “What about this weekend coming up?”

I grumbled some unintelligible words–even to me–aloud.

“Oh, you have plans already?”

“My mother is coming up.”

“As in, like, your mother. Not your Mommy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Exciting,” she said, voice thoroughly laced with sarcasm. “But I’m not a big fan of mothers, myself. Hopefully you have a good relationship with yours?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everyone has a complicated relationship with their parents,” Lyndie said. “That’s just how it works.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need the extra complication of waddling around my mother while in a pair of…” I stopped short of saying ‘diaper’ aloud while walking past the other employees.

“Just talk to Ms. Heller. I’m sure she’ll…”

“No,” I said, cutting her off. “I already talked to her. It…didn’t go like I hoped it would.”

I don’t know what sort of reaction I was hoping for from Lyndie, but my heart sank when I saw it was just a shrug and a nonchalant chuckle.

“Yeah,” Lyndie said, “you get yourself into some really weird situations. Good luck with that.”

“Thanks so much.”

We parted ways in front of Ms. Heller’s office. Lyndie said she’d see me around, and I had no doubt that was true–inevitably, I’d be set to the nursery for a diaper change. My current diaper was already at least halfway to being fully soaked.

“Good morning, Baby,” Ms. Heller said as I entered her office. I wish I knew where she got her energy from, because she was looking completely recharged–while I was feeling like a shambling zombie.

“Good morning, Mommy.”

I stood still in the center of her office, as I knew the routine at this point. She unfastened my belt and pants, sliding them down my legs far enough that she could see my thick diaper in all of it’s moistened glory.

“Just a little wet,” she said. “Unfortunate, as I was in the mood for changing a diaper this morning.”

“You still could.”

“And waste a diaper?” she laughed. “That can hold plenty more.”

I braced myself for one of her ‘assignments.’ Would she order me to load the back of my diaper within the next few hours again?

“Actually,” she continued, “how confident are you that this diaper could last you a few more hours?”

It was a curious question. Still, I thought I’d give my most honest estimation: “I could probably last a while longer before I need to be changed.”

“Perfect,” she said. “I have a task for you.”

Here it comes. This was the part where she gave me some sort of humiliating assignment that would end with me stinking up some small section of the office.

“Okay?”

“Sadly–for me–it’s nothing too exciting. Actual work, I’m afraid.”

I was actually a little excited about this. I missed work.

“What sort of work?” I asked.

“Some of the departments are getting together for a meeting this morning. It’s a quarterly affair–mostly each department giving a presentation on what they’re currently working on. Usually, it’s just a lot of people bragging about how great they, and their teams, are and how they deserve more money and/or praise.”

“Hmm,” I responded, a little less interested in this task.

“I’d rather not go if I didn’t have to,” she continued, shrugging. “But lucky for me, I have my little baby assistant that can go in my stead.”

“I, uhm, wouldn’t know what to do or say to these people.”

“That’s the best part,” she said. “You don’t have to do or say much of anything. All you have to do is sit there and take a few notes. I promise, it’ll be easy.”

The assignment didn’t sound all that fun to me, but it was at least something different. Besides, I wondered if my reputation could benefit a little from being seen by other humans who weren’t in the executives’ diaper cult.

“No problem,” I said, giving her a confident nod. “I’ll bring back thorough notes.”

“Not too thorough, Baby. If I actually cared, I’d have gone myself.”

I nodded again.

“Now then. We do have one other matter to discuss.”

The change in Mommy’s tone alarmed me. Whatever it was we had to discuss next, I could tell that it was a conversation she wasn’t interested in having either.

“Oh?”

“Thomas Pritchard.”

“Ah yes,” I said, nodding. ‘Anderson,’ as Lyndie and I called him for a long while.

“He’s advised HR that he plans on taking his concerns to the Board of Directors.”

“How bad would it be if he did” I asked.

“Not as bad as one would think–there are members of the board who are sympathetic to our, uhm, little games. The bigger concern is there would be more than just board members at this meeting. Mr. Pritchard could inspire others to take a deeper look at what’s going on around here. And while I’d like to think that we’ve done our due diligence in hiding our actions from everyone else…” She paused and sighed. “...I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“No?”

“We’re flying by the seat of our pants,” she said. “Always have been. Sure, we’ve got Nancy from HR on our side. We’ve got the nursery. But I’ve always felt that we’re one incident away from being exposed to the wrong people. And once that one card is removed…the entire house of cards topples.”

My heart pounded in my chest. “So…what do we do?”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with him. Just he and I. Silly little men like that can always be reasoned with. I’m only telling you in case he approaches you. He may.”

“And if he does?”

“Send him my way,” she said. “And don’t say anything else to him.”

That was an easy enough request to follow. I hadn’t seen Anderson–Thomas–since he had ranted at me in the hallway a week or three ago. And if he stepped in my path again, I was already planning on ducking and dodging.

My pants were hoisted back up again and I was sent on my way to this meeting. As I walked through the corridors of cubicles and offices, diaper rustling in pants with every step, I was reminded how paranoid the office made me. Was everyone looking at me? Staring? Making mental notes about the nature of my waddle or the subtle crinkles emanating from my backside?

I was distracted from my paranoia by a familiar face near the entrance to the conference room I had been sent to.

“Welcome back, Clark,” Ava said.

I was simultaneously happy and nervous to see her. I liked Ava. She liked me. I had also botched her attempt at kissing me.

Ava told me not to worry about that, of course. I was hoping she meant that.

“It’s good to see you,” I said. “Are you here with Ms. Beaufort?”

“I’m here for her.”

I laughed, nodding. “Likewise. I’m here on Mommy–er–Ms. Heller’s behalf.”

Ava stifled a little laugh with her hand. “Looks like it’s just you and me then.”

The meeting was–as Mommy had warned–a pep rally for each department to do some bragging and showing off. They blasted us with numbers and abbreviations that meant nothing to me–though I jotted them down anyway. EBITDA. EPS. ROA. CPS. CMS.

I glanced over to the pad of paper in front of Ava, seeing a similar growing list of letters and numbers. She had also sketched a cartoonish stick figure shrugging, a stream of question marks streaming out of their simplistic head.

“This is dumb.” I wrote on the edge of my notebook, before sliding it a little closer to her so that she could read it.

She smiled before scribbling something down on her own notepad before sliding it closer for me to read: “The absolute worst.”

I was wetting myself again. I had briefly debated if I was going to hold it until after the meeting or not, but I landed on just going for it. Mommy, herself, had said that the diaper had some more capacity left in it and I trusted that judgment. Besides, there was something absolutely thrilling about pissing my pants as I sat in this packed conference room with people taking their jobs much more seriously than I was.

I felt Ava pushing her notebook against my elbow, trying to get my attention. I looked down at what she had written: “Did you just wet yourself?”

I felt my cheeks turn bright red as I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the room, instead staring straight down at my own paper. I quickly scribbled out: “How did you know???”

“It takes a baby to know a baby,” she wrote.

I flipped the page over to a clean one in my notebook. “Do you think anyone else noticed?”

She wrote: “Not at all. Look at them all–they actually LIKE this stuff. They’re not paying attention to us.”

I responded: “It’s weird, right? Peeing our pants in a room of people?”

I watched her lips curl into a smirk as she jotted down her next note for me: “I wish I could get away with more than just wetting myself here.”

My eyes widened as I read her words. I had to take a cautious look around the room, wondering if anyone else had even the slightest clue as to what sorts of messages we were writing to each other. But, as best as I could tell, we were in our own little bubble as everyone else stared ahead at the slides being projected on the wall. Bar graphs and pie charts. More numbers.

My handwriting was getting a little less precise as I scribbled my next note to her. In my pants, my shriveled cock strained its cage while I still felt the warmth of my soggy diaper. “Really? You’d mess yourself?”

She quietly laughed at my note, quickly getting her pen to paper again to respond: “I won’t. I’d never get away with it. I wish I could.”

I had once heard that Ava’s dirty diapers were famously foul, though I had no experience with this myself. She was probably right that this wasn’t the time for it. Even if, in my filthiest of fantasies, she stood up and pushed an awful mess into the seat of her pants right in the middle of this meeting.

It took me a few minutes to respond. I couldn’t continue this conversation without further exciting myself. And, while in chastity, getting excited just wasn’t all that comfortable. To get my mind off of Ava’s diapers, I simply listened in to the meeting. A rotund man in a sweater vest was currently pointing at a series of stats that meant absolutely nothing to me.

“...and if you’ll look here on this next slide, performance never fell below 89%. Considering the challenges our team faced in the last fiscal year, I’d say that’s pretty impressive. Especially if you factor in the cuts we had to make to our…”

That was more than enough. My locked-up cock was no longer throbbing.

“This sucks.” I wrote in my notebook before showing it to her, resetting us back to the beginning of the conversation.

She smirked again, her pen dancing across her paper–I loved her cursive handwriting. “I’m peeing now too.”

Almost immediately, my cock was aching. What else could I write, except: “Just two babies–trying to blend in with the adults.”

The notes kind of trailed off at that point, with the both of us just idly staring off to space. Occasionally one of us would jot down a note or would draw some silly scribble in the margin to try and amuse each other.

At last, it was over. The projector was shut down. People were packing up notes and folders. The doors opened and everyone was filing back out, into the freedom of any place that wasn’t this boring conference room.

Ava and I lingered a little longer than the rest, waiting for everyone else to leave first. We hadn’t planned on this, though I wondered if it was just a natural defense mechanism for those who wore diapers. In the event that our soggy diapers were sagging too far, or were leaking, you didn’t want anyone walking behind you.

The doors closed behind the last of the other attendees, leaving Ava and I alone in the conference room.

“Hey, so…”

“We’re good,” Ava said, cutting me off. “If…that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

“Well, yeah. But also, I just wanted to say that I, uhm, regret how things went last week.”

“It’s not a big deal. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

“No,” I said. “You should’ve. I shouldn’t have made you feel like I wasn’t interested.”

“Because…?”

“Because I was. Uh, still am, too.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair again. “Good to know. Maybe I’ll remember that for next time. If there’s a next time.”

“Fair enough.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. We had a little time left in the time allotted for this conference room reservation. We were both still seated, so it seemed like we both had the idea of running out the clock with each other. There was no rush to get back to whatever embarrassment likely awaited us. I knew that I, for one, was slightly overdue for a diaper change. Ava probably needed one for herself.

“How was Seattle?” she asked.

I wanted to answer, but I had to laugh first. I wasn’t even sure how to convey that experience into words yet.

“That bad?” she asked.

“No, no. It wasn’t bad. It was just…a lot.”

“I bet,” she said, nodding. “I was on a ‘business trip’ with Ms. Beaufort last year. She certainly gave me the ‘business.’ Sometimes I feel like I’m still recovering from it.”

I had questions, but I bit my tongue.

“Lyndie said something about you hanging out with some other girl?”

Was that a note of jealousy in her tone? I didn’t know Ava well enough to be able to decipher the difference between that and just genuine curiosity.

“I wouldn’t use the words ‘hanging out’ to describe it,” I said, shaking my head as I sighed. “She was a, uh, ‘babysitter’ for a while. Until she wasn’t.”

“Uh oh.”

“Jesus,” I said–mostly to myself. “All that happened this past weekend?”

She laughed. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“Sure, sure. Fun.”

“So here’s a question for you.”

My ears perk up and my heart rate climbs a little. Hot gossip? Flirting?

She clears her throat, cheeks a little flushed. “So…if I know I need a diaper change, am I supposed to go back to Ms. Beaufort first, so that she can send me off to the nursery? Or am I just supposed to go directly to the nursery?”

I had to chuckle. I hadn’t considered this question before, and she was making a good point.

“You need a diaper change?” I asked.

She smirked. “Well sure. And you do too, right? You wet yourself at least once during that meeting.”

I felt my face glowing as I looked down at my pad of paper in front of me. I still see the words I had hastily scribbled down earlier: “How did you know???”

“Better safe than sorry,” Ava said. “I don’t feel like getting spanked because I didn’t let Ms. Beaufort know I needed a change first.”

“She spanks you?”

“Not often. But…it’s happened.”

We’re just two blushing babies, sitting in an empty conference room in our wet diapers.

“Actually, I did have one more thing I wanted to tell you,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“It’s…” her voice trailed off for a moment as she sighed. “Sorry, sorry. This is harder to say than I thought it was going to be.”

I couldn’t even begin to guess what this might be about. “Look, there’s no rush.” I glanced at the time again. “Actually, you have about five minutes.”

“It’s just that, well…”

Knock knock.

I sighed, glancing up at the conference room door at the same time as Ava.

“Yes?” Ava answered. “Come in.”

“Ah ha,” said Lyndie, sliding into the room. “Here’s where the babies are hiding.”

“We’re not hiding,” I said. “We were just chatting.”

“Ms. Heller warned me that you might be in desperate need of a diaper change by now, and she sent me to fetch the two of you.”

“I guess that answers that question,” Ava said to me, shrugging. We both laughed.

I should’ve known, of course. Mommy had thought of these sorts of things before we did.

I was tempted to ask Ava to complete her thought, but I also knew that if it was hard to say whatever it was to just me–it probably wasn’t going to be any easier with Lyndie in the room too. I could see it in her face that she was a little disappointed that the moment was spoiled too, as she just shrugged and mouthed the word: Sorry.

“Come along now,” Lyndie said, herding us out of the conference room like we were sheep. Or toddlers, really. “We’ll get you into some nice clean pants in no time at all. In fact, if you were holding onto anything else, you might as well get it all out now.”

Ava laughed and shook her head as we walked behind Lyndie as she led us back to the nursery.

“No way,” she whispered to me.

“You did say you had to mess,” I whispered back.

“I’m not subjecting you to that.”

“But if you have to go… Well, you’ll go eventually anyway.”

“I’ll save that for later,” she whispered. “When it’s only Lyndie’s problem.”

“I can hear the two of you, you know,” Lyndie said from the front of our tight formation. “And Ava’s right, Clarky. You don’t want to get mixed up in one of her accidents.”

Ava blushed. I blushed too, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it just because we were talking about diapers and messing? Secondhand embarrassment?

Were it any other time, I’d probably be struggling with my cramped cock again–bemoaning its indefinitely-flaccid state. Instead, I was distracted by Ava’s mystery. What was it that she had to tell me?

I could only guess. And hope. I hoped that she’d say that she felt the same way about me as I was starting to feel about her.

 

[Babypants]

I like the way you have structured this part of the story a great deal.  Sending Clark out of town for the weekend means that he has to interact with other characters in order to catch up.  As in this scene here, this allows us to see the relationship deepening in real time.  Well done.

Is Clark planning to stay in diapers during his Mom's visit?  I thought what he wore on his own time was still his own business.

 

[littlebopeeper]

Another great chapter.   And what is Ava eating?  There are probably a few people around here who would like to copy her diet. 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Forty-Five

Three days until my mother visits.

Another day, another diaper.

I again found myself in the center of Ms. Heller’s office, first thing in the morning, so that she could go through the ritual of checking my diaper. My pants were pulled down, the diaper was exposed, and her fingers would poke and pull at the garment as she saw fit. The state of the diaper was usually incredibly obvious as soon as my pants were pulled down–if not before. Still, we both seemed to like the routine enough that we always went through with it.

I had come into the office in a wet diaper. Wetter than usual–practically leaking. I felt like I had begun to develop a sixth sense for knowing the remaining capacity of whatever diaper I was wearing. Based on its weight, it’s sag, the number of times I had wet it, and how long ago I had wet it last, I was getting better at judging how much time I’d have until I absolutely had to get it changed. This particular diaper was, as best as I could tell, as swollen as it was going to get without causing embarrassing stains in my clothing.

“You smell like pee,” Mommy said to me as she leaned in close to my diaper as part of her inspection.

I blushed some. I wasn’t completely surprised by that–I had been wetting in this diaper since I woke up. Still, I couldn’t remember a time when Mommy had called me out for smelling…pissy.

“I like it,” she said, giving my bottom a firm pat. “It fits you quite nicely.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Apologies for making you suffer through that meeting yesterday morning,” she said, still orbiting me while prodding my diaper. “Somebody had to sit through it. This is why I have assistants, you know?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” I said. “Ava was there for Ms. Beaufort too.”

“Ah yes,” she said, grinning slightly. She knew this already, of course. “I bet that was nice.”

I still hadn’t gotten to talk to Ava since we were whisked away by Lyndie for diaper changes in the nursery. Ava had tried to tell me something, and I still had no idea what it was. It was eating at me. The curiosity was becoming all-consuming.

I was tempted to ask Ms. Heller if she knew what it might have been. But that seemed like the wrong approach for this mystery. Ms. Heller didn’t know everything. Besides, I wanted to hear it–whatever it was–from Ava’s lips.

“I-it was,” I said.

“I thought so,” she snickered. “I saw your notes.”

“M-my notes? You saw those?”

“Baby, you left them on top of your desk. Anyone could’ve seen them. In fact, I wonder if anyone else had happened upon it.”

My face felt incredibly hot as I tried to remember what I had written down in my notebook. I had wet myself during the meeting, but did I write that down?

“It was only half a conversation,” Mommy said. “Maybe I’m missing a little bit of context. But you did mention wetting yourself.”

My heart sank. I had written that down.

“You had also inquired if Ava was going to mess herself. I assume she didn’t?”

“No,” I said. “She didn’t.”

“I’m sure I’d have known about it if she did. Everyone in the entire building would’ve known.”

“W-we were just joking about that…”

“Sure,” Mommy said. “You and I know that. Ava knows that. But to someone just walking past your cubicle and catching a glance of your notebook…”

She was just teasing me, I was sure of it. It was easy to embarrass and frazzle me. As always, it was working.

“So, did you finalize plans with your mother?” she asked.

“Well, she’s coming up this weekend,” I answered. “Whether I like it or not.”

“And what are your plans with her? Going out for a nice meal? Allowing her the chance to change one of your diapers, like in the good ol’ days?”

It was hard to take the actual questions more seriously when they were so casually tossed alongside the more sarcastic questions intended to get a rise out of me.

Still, I tried my best to answer the more pertinent questions. “I imagine we’ll go out and get some food together.”

“I’d like to help with that, if I may.”

“How so?”

“A woman of my social and business standing has a certain amount of sway in this town. I’m thinking I could help you make a good impression on your mother. Perhaps I could get you some prime seating at one of the city’s best restaurants.”

“W-well, that’s very nice of you, Mommy. But I’d still have to be able to afford it…”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, her lips curled into a grin. “It’ll be on me. One of the many perks of being my favorite assistant.”

“Only assistant.”

“Semantics. Besides, you’ve been such a good boy lately–what, with the Seattle trip and all. It’s the least I could do.”

I wasn’t especially comfortable accepting her charity–especially without knowing if there was some sort of catch to it. I wouldn’t have put that past her. Still, the idea of impressing my mother with brunch at a fancy restaurant did feel like the sort of power move I needed to tip the scales in my favor during her visit. I wanted my mother to see that I was succeeding. That I was an independent adult who–

“But, truly,” she said, cutting off my internal monologue. “You smell like a pissy little toddler.”

I wondered if this would be how my mother would see me too. Perhaps not literally–I seriously hoped there was not a situation where she smelled my diaper, let alone knew that I was wearing one–but that she’d see me as just a helpless child still.

And maybe I was? It was hard to argue that I wasn’t. I just didn’t want her to see me that way.

“I, uhm, probably need a change, Mommy.” Nothing built a case for being a mature adult quite like that statement.

She laughed. “Ah, well, I’ll let you know when it’s time for a diaper change, Baby.”

A lesson I should’ve learned by now–just about everything is out of my control.

“You don’t have anywhere to be this morning, do you?” she asked.

“N-no,” I said, shaking my head. If I did–it’d only be because she had assigned it to me.

“Take off your pants and sit on the ground for me in your diaper. I don’t know what it is about today’s diaper, but I’m quite enjoying it. The perfect amount of squishiness and musk. Why don’t you sit down and marinate in it a little longer. I’d like to see if it ripens a little further in an hour or two.”

I did as she asked with no questions. It wasn’t the craziest thing she had ever asked for, but I did feel like I was being reduced to a decoration in her office. A science experiment, maybe. I kicked off my shoes and lowered my pants completely to the ground so that I could step out of them completely. Then, I just lowered myself to the ground, sitting on the soggy lump that was my diaper. I swore I could hear the squick of the mushy padding shifting beneath me. I definitely caught a whiff of something purely infantile–a mix of baby powder and pee. I could understand what she liked about it. Were my cage not locked up, I was certain that I’d be hard as a rock.

“Can I ask you something?” I said from the floor.

“Of course,” she said, returning to her desk.

“What was your mother like?”

“Hmm.” She eased herself into her expensive-looking office chair–it might as well have been a throne. “Not a subject I was expecting to broach today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I said. “I was just curious.”

“Your soggy pampers have me in a good enough mood that I’ll share a little.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“You know, for a long time, my mother really frustrated me. Not because she was bad or mean. Quite the contrary, really–she was a saint. She was full of kindness and generosity. She’d have done anything for anyone.”

“She sounds nice,” I said. “Why would that frustrate you?”

“She was a housewife,” Mommy said with a shrug. “Maybe a little more common at that time. But she toiled through our house all day, everyday, like it was her job. It was her job. All the laundry. Dusting. Vacuuming. She made sure breakfast was on the table when we woke up. She made sure dinner was on the table every evening. And my family–myself included–we exploited that.”

I still wasn’t quite sure where the ‘frustrating’ part came in.

“I kind of resented her,” she continued. I mean, I never hated her. But to be a beautiful and intelligent woman–living a life of servitude for an ungrateful husband and children–I just didn’t get the appeal of that. She could’ve been anything. She told me once she wanted to be a teacher. That never happened, of course. So I swore that I’d never end up like her.”

“A follower?” I asked. “Like…leaders and followers?”

She laughed. “I’ve taught you a thing or two. Yes, she was a follower. And I didn’t want to be a follower. I wanted to be a leader–like my father.”

I nodded. Meanwhile, my body gently slid back and forth on my soggy diaper–the feeling of the moist bulk rubbing against my bottom was channeling tiny tingles through my whole body as I listened to her talk. I didn’t even realize I had been doing it at first.

“I see things a little differently now,” she said. “Age will do that to you. I spent my whole life trying to avoid being like my mother, only to realize that I do wish I was more…maternal.”

“Well, you have a baby in diapers,” I said. “That seems like a good start.”

“Not quite the same thing,” she laughed. “Though I agree.”

The room fell silent for a few minutes. She was working at her desk while I sat there in the center of her floor. A decoration, just marinating in my own juices.

“What is your mother like?” Mommy asked.

“Protective,” I said. “Uh…smothering, at times.”

She laughed pretty hard. “Do you think she and I would get along?”

“I’d like it if we never found out.”

“Party pooper. And pants-pooper. Speaking of…how’s your diaper doing?”

I was still shifting back and forth–micromovements that were still plenty stimulating. “It’s, uhm, good.”

“Any chance you’ll be filling the back of it with a stinky mess for Mommy?”

“W-well…”

Of course I was capable of doing that. In fact, I was a little overdue for emptying my bowels, and I was slowly becoming aware of the growing pressure within my abdomen.

Knock knock.

I wasn’t sure if I was upset or relieved by the interruption. I also wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Remain in place? Hide?

“Stay,” she commanded. Then, towards the door: “Come in!”

I stayed put–feeling like a dog, obediently obeying an order.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said Neve Beaufort as she burst into the room, giving me only the briefest glance as she closed the door and hustled past me to one of Ms. Heller’s chairs.

I felt my cheeks glow as I realized I had actually been regarded no different than any other decoration or piece of furniture in the room.

“Not at all,” Mommy said, shrugging casually.

“Expect more visitors,” Ms. Beaufort said. “I know a handful of us had questions about the Oneida account.”

“The more the merrier,” Mommy responded.

“Sh-should I…go?” I asked. “I can go to Lyndie’s or…”

“No,” Mommy said, shaking her head. “You can stay right there. And, please–hush. The adults are talking right now.”

My heart sank deep into my chest as I sat there. I wanted to melt into the floor. I was pretty sure that I was–I was now part of the floor itself, just waiting to be walked on.

Another knock. It was Troy Morris, who I hadn’t seen since the surreal spanking-gauntlet that coronated me as the locked-up baby I am today. He didn’t have an assistant of his own, yet, though he still seemed to be part of this little group. I had forgotten how strong his daddy-vibes were. Most days I didn’t think I leaned in that direction, but I’d have been quite alright with Mr. Morris–with his youthful handsomeness and charming smile spanking me again.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said as he walked past me, messing up my hair with his hand like I was 5 years old.

He sat near Ms. Beaufort, and the three adults immediately launched into a conversation that quickly seemed far above my paygrade.

“Janet’s team wants two more weeks to look at the trends,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Personally, I don’t think we have that sort of time.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Mr. Morris said, his voice buttery smooth. “I think we can all agree that Janet has the right idea, but if they wanted to be a part of this, they should’ve spoken up two months ago. The ship has sailed, and we need to start committing to dates.”

Yet another knock at the door. This time it was Darren Yang. Mr. Yang, similar to Mr. Morris, was a handsome man. But whereas Mr. Morris also seemed to have a charming personality and a bit of charisma behind his eyes, Mr. Yang seemed…sleazier. The kind of corporate asshole that Lyndie spent the first few months of her internship deriding.

Mr. Yang paid no attention to me whatsoever, walking right past me and towards another open seat. He left a trail of cologne in his wake–a strong scent that reminded me of walking past displays in the mall when I was younger.

He immediately dived into the conversation himself, calling out specific numbers and mentioning names that I had never heard before. People we worked with? People from other companies?

I tuned out most of the noise, disassociating a bit. Wherever I was, I was still gradually rocking back and forth on my wet mound of a diaper. Mm. It felt like the perfect crime–little stimulating bursts undetectable to preoccupied adults in the room.

I was daydreaming–my mind was in a thousand places, sometimes all at once. We were in Seattle, in the suite–Mommy was fucking me as I moaned like a braying mule. I was in a conference room with Ava, the two of us slowly leaning towards each other until our lips touched. I was in a room full of people in a dirty diaper, all of them occasionally taking an amused glance at my pathetic state while otherwise pretending I wasn’t there.

Oh.

The urge to fill my diaper was growing. I had managed to avoid it for as long as I could, but we were quickly approaching a level of discomfort that I could no longer push off to the backburner.

This was always how it went, wasn’t it? I couldn’t just casually push a load into the seat of my diaper when nobody else was around. Everything always had to be…complicated.

“...and it’s all wrong,” Mommy was saying to the rest of the group. I watched her talk for a moment, studying her mannerisms and body language. It was no wonder she was in charge–every part of her felt exuded confidence and strength. “I don’t want them coming back to us later, saying that we didn’t do enough. We need to be certain.”

For just a moment, her eyes met mine. As she listened to the others talk, I watched her smile. She took delight in seeing me there in my diaper. Marinating. I wonder if she knew about the rising urgency in my bowels. I was willing to bet she did. Knowing her, she invited everyone else to her office on purpose. She wanted me stuck in place, helpless and quiet. She was hoping that I’d end up completely humiliating myself.

And I was starting to crave that myself.

I had a little theory that, just as there was an infantile headspace I could occasionally be pushed into, there was also a headspace in which I craved humiliation. The two headspaces might have actually been more intertwined than I realized–though I hadn’t quite gotten that far in my theorizing.

The humiliation headspace was triggered by desperation. I felt it come out when I was backed into a corner with few other options. In the times when it looked like there was no way out of a situation without causing some sort of humiliation for myself. As if a defense mechanism, I instead desired it. Leaned into it.

And so I sat there, in my soaked diaper–breathing in wafts of the piss-soaked padding–imagining what it’d be like to push my load into my diaper as everyone sat around me, talking business.

Just try and pretend that I’m not here after that.

I wonder if they’d all seen anything like that before. Had Ava ever pooped her diaper with an audience? Had Hillary, in her time as Mommy’s assistant/baby ever done such a thing?

A little gas escaped my rear–a playful little pop. I didn’t think it was so loud as to be heard over the conversation, but it was loud enough had someone been paying attention. I felt my cheeks redden further as the scent caught my nose–a foul prelude to the sort of disaster I might be forcing into my diaper soon.

Could others smell it? I imagined they had to. The pungent air was still thick around my face. While I couldn’t see Mr. Morris and Mr. Yang, who were sitting behind me, a slight glance to my side found Ms. Beaufort staring towards the men as they talked, either unaware or uncaring. I looked to Mommy last, seeing the slightest hint of a smirk on her face as she listened to the others.

She turned her head to look at me again. Her lips were moving. Admittedly, I was never the best at reading lips, but I was pretty sure I could make out what she was mouthing towards me.

“Do it.”

I was certain of it. She was telling me to do it. She was telling me to poop in my diaper.

“Do it,” she mouthed again.

I took a deep breath. And another. And then two or three more.

Such a thing would only ever be considered in this humiliation-space. Otherwise, with any will of my own, I’d have refused. I think.

But at this moment, all I wanted to do was load my diaper. Not just while others were in the room, but because others were in the room.

I shifted my bottom a little. I needed space. As in–I needed to give the bottom of my diaper some room to catch my mess. I tilted my body forward a little, lifting my ass off the ground as much as I could while still remaining somewhat comfortable.

I wasn’t looking at anyone’s face, but I didn’t have to be. I could hear them looking at me.

“...so we might want to push that project back a week or two, though it shouldn’t be a problem because…uh…” The voice–I was far too distracted to determine who it belonged to–drifted off for a moment. “...we’re still able to meet the deadlines for Toby’s group.”

I was becoming increasingly untethered from reality. Nothing else mattered. I wasn’t in the room with other people. I wasn’t in an office. I wasn’t in a building with hundreds of other people. Were the others talking? If they were, were they talking about me? What I was doing? Was it obvious what was about to happen?

I wasn’t an adult. I was a baby. A stupid and pathetic baby who could–and would–fill their diapers at any moment.

I could hear Mommy say one thing. I wasn’t sure if she had more to say before or after this, but I could at least make out these two words: “Watch this.”

The situation was no longer in my hands. I had no control over my body now. Perhaps, like a baby, my body was going to do what it had to without regard for how I felt about it. More likely, I was under Mommy’s control. I was her puppet, and she was now making her puppet poop its pants for her audience.

Watch this.

It was an aggressive mess–rushing out of me with such force that by the time I knew it was happening, the back of my diaper was half-full.

Was it the thrill of messing myself in front of these adults, or was it the thrill of feeling the shameful mass passing out of my ass? Something forced a groaning “Fuuuuuuhhh” out of my mouth. Beneath me, my diapered bottom seemed to respond with squelches and bubbling pops.

I hadn’t given myself enough room. The limited vacancy in my already-saturated diaper wasn’t enough for the massive load my body was trying to force into it now. I could feel the mess spreading between my skin and the diaper–just as fast as it was coming out of me. It hungrily sought new places to go. It was creeping between my legs, and I was almost positive I could feel it attempting to escape out the back of the diaper.

Nothing felt real. Perhaps this was all happening in a daydream as they continued to yammer on about whatever the Oneida account was. Maybe this actually was happening and they sat around me with wide grins on their faces as I watched me push and push, trying to completely empty myself into the diaper.

It didn’t matter. The office didn’t matter. My mother’s pending visit didn’t matter.

This feeling of lost control–that was all that mattered.

[kirababy]

wow this chapter simply built and built to the end.  

[Daiperboy27]

As always you know how to set a scene!

[littlebopeeper]

Separating his little space from humiliation is interesting.  My impression is that Clark craves humiliation.  If Ms. Heller had wanted him to become a transvestite instead of a diaper baby, I suspect that the character would have been equally happy to go down that road.  It's not clear to me that Clark even has a little space. 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Forty-Six

“Well then,” said a voice. “Meeting adjourned?”

I couldn’t say where I was. It was a place that didn’t exist. A blissful and imaginary realm where I was every bit the stupid and pathetic baby I wanted to be. I had just loaded my diaper and I was sitting in it again. Marinating, as Mommy would say. Even the thick smell of my diaper had gone from ‘abysmal’ to ‘comforting’ in a short amount of time.

And them–the audience. I hoped they were watching. I hoped all of their eyes were fixed on me, taking in the sight of the most blissfully content baby they’d ever see.

“Hello?” said another–more familiar–voice. “Earth to Baby?”

I opened my eyes for a moment, finding that everyone was–in fact–staring at me. The fantasy was much more exciting than the reality, and I closed my eyes again. And the smell had gone right back to ‘abysmal’ again.

What the hell was I thinking?

“I’d apologize,” Mommy said to the others. “But you know how babies are. They can’t help it.”

“Of course,” Ms Beaufort said. “I’ve seen this happen too many times.”

“See?” said Mr. Yang from behind me. “This is why I didn’t want to do the whole baby-thing with Megan. We shouldn’t have to deal with dirty diapers.”

“Some of us like dirty diapers,” Mommy quickly retorted.

“The poor baby probably doesn’t like us talking about his poopy pants like he wasn’t here,” said Mr. Morris, his heavy hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake.

“He loves it,” Mommy said. “Though, for our own comfort if we’re going to finish this meeting, I suppose I should summon Lyndie to take care of this little stinker.”

I watch as she taps at the keypad of her phone in an exaggerated manner, staring ahead at me and smiling as she does so.

“Good morning,” said Lyndie through the phone’s loudspeaker.

“When you have a moment, dear, I’d like for you to stop by my office to retrieve little Clarky.”

“Oh? Is he in need of a change?”

There’s a bit of laughter in the room. Everyone, so far as I can tell, has joined in. Hell, I’m almost laughing, myself.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then,” Lyndie said. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Alright,” Mommy said, standing up from her chair and circling her desk to approach me. “Let’s get your pants and shoes back on. We’re going to have to make you presentable enough that you can get to the nursery.”

“I’m telling you,” Ms. Beaufort said. “We should rethink the arrangement of our offices. We should all have direct access to the nursery without having to trek through the halls.”

“Good luck ever convincing the board of that need,” Mr. Yang said snidely. “We’ll be lucky if we have anything in a few weeks.”

Mommy was opening up my pants for me, helping me to step into them so she could pull them up my legs and over my extra-plump diaper.

“How so?” asked Mr. Morris.

“What’s that kid’s name? Pritchard? He seems intent on causing trouble. The board has always been willing to turn a blind eye towards us–probably because some of them used to be executives like us–but that’s not going to last forever.”

“Let’s not to be too hasty to shout that the sky is falling,” Ms. Heller said, buttoning my pants and latching my belt. “I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Pritchard, and I’d like to think there’s still a chance we can work something out before it turns into some sort of doomsday scenario.”

“Here,” Ms. Beaufort said, handing Ms. Heller a small vial or bottle of some sort. “Try this. It’s one of the better deodorizers I’ve tried. It’s not going to completely wipe out the smell of a diaper that far gone. But it seems to be enough to get Ava from my office to the nursery when she’s done something dreadful in her pants.”

Mommy sprayed a liberal amount of the clear liquid from the bottle, both directly on me and around me. An intense and overwhelming floral smell filled the room almost immediately.

“Might have overdone it a little,” Mr. Morris said, coughing.

“Better he smells like a flower garden than a landfill,” Mommy said.

“Except we’re all going to smell like a flower garden now,” Mr. Yang said.

That still seemed better to me than them walking around for the rest of the day smelling faintly of my filthy diaper. But I kept my mouth shut.

Knock knock.

Mommy opened the door, letting Lyndie into the room quickly so she could close the door again.

“Oh wow,” Lyndie said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Smells like someone took a shit in a field of flowers.”

“Take him,” Mr. Yang said. “Please.”

“I apologize in advance,” Mommy said to Lyndie. “This one isn’t going to be pretty.”

“They never are,” Lyndie said, smirking. “Come along, Stinky. Let’s get this thing taken care of before people start passing out.”

I took one last look at the faces in Mommy’s office. While most of them wore some level of disgust on their face–the men much more so than the women–they all looked amused by how this scene had played out. This was what it was all about–the thoroughly humiliating devastation of one of the subordinates. All of them–Mommy included–could pat themselves on the back and chuckle that the joke was at my expense.

If there was any part of me still riding that fantastical high from earlier, I was completely sobered now. Now came the reality. The walk of shame. The diaper change. Lyndie’s teasing comments, for sure. A future where the next time I looked at these men and women’s faces, I’d see a little less respect than I saw before.

I hung my head in shame and let Lyndie escort me from the office.

“What happened in there?” Lyndie asked as we briskly walked towards the nursery. “Did you put on a little show for them or something?”

“I…I didn’t know people would be coming,” I said.

“Did you at least have fun?”

“I think I might have been at one point,” I replied. “Though I find that hard to believe now.”

I glanced around us as we walked. By the grace of some higher power, our path seemed mostly clear of bystanders and would-be witnesses. I either smelled rancid, too floral, or some confusing mix of the two. None of those options made me feel all that good about the trip.

“You’re going to have company in the nursery,” she said. She was still smiling, but it wasn’t quite the same one I had seen when she was teasing me about the scent of my diaper. It was more…apologetic.

“Who’s there? N-not Ava, I hope.” I didn’t want her to see me in this horrid thing.

“No, not Ava.”

“Uh…who else is there?”

“Bradley.”

I expect to see her rolling her eyes, but she manages to keep a straight face when she says his name.

I have one question: “Why?”

She takes a deep breath just as we reach the door to the nursery. Her voice is hushed as she says: “Look, he’s just…hanging out.”

But my question still stands: “Why?”

Another deep breath. “He won’t bother us. Just…ignore him.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. It was strangely refreshing–like, for once, there was a story that I wasn’t the center of. I was very curious about the circumstances that brought Bradley to the nursery–and kept him there, apparently.

Sure enough, there he was. Bradley was just sitting at a chair near Lyndie’s desk in the corner of the nursery. He was, seemingly, just hanging out.

“Uh, hey,” I said to him, waving.

“Hi,” he said, offering an equally meek wave back.

I couldn’t decide which would be more awkward, if Bradley had to be in the room at all while I was in such a state–that we knew each other well and had a good rapport, or that we barely knew each other at all and had said only a handful of words to each other. Because the latter was the reality, and it was plenty awkward.

“I could go,” Bradley said to Lyndie. “Maybe stop by later?”

She shrugged. “If you want to, sure. But you’re welcome to just stay.”

I’d love to ask Lyndie ‘Why?’ one more time, but I bite my tongue. I suspected I wasn’t going to get a satisfactory answer at that point.

“I-I think I’ll go,” Bradley said as his face scrunched up a bit. I suspected that he was finally getting a good whiff of my backside. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Sure,” said Lyndie, shrugging a little. “You know where to find me.”

As I climbed atop the changing table, Bradley let himself out of the nursery, closing the door behind him.

“Okay, look,” she said, almost as soon as the door was closed. “I’m sure you’ve got some questions. Or comments. Or something.”

“I didn’t think I was gone from the office that long,” I said, laying down on my back. “Are you two, like, best friends now?”

“Lovers, actually,” she said, pulling a pair of latex gloves from a box on her desk. Possibly a sign of how involved she thought this diaper change might be. “We’re planning on eloping this weekend.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or, you could tell me the truth?”

“You don’t buy the two of us as lovers?”

“Not really. He’s too, y’know, soft. And you…”

“And me?” she asked, smirking. “What am I?”

“You’re…I don’t know. Fearless. You don’t give a shit. You’re Lyndie.”

She shrugged. “Am I? Well, I like that description of me better than any I’d come up with myself.”

“We’re our own worst critics.”

“And you,” she said. “Have you gotten around to critiquing your stanky diaper just yet? Because, yikes.”

“Right, right. That’s why I’m here. But, really, is something going on between you and Bradley?”

“Would it make you jealous if something was?” she asked.

“N-no. I don’t think so.”

“He’s not a bad guy, once you get to know him.”

“So there is something?”

She starts untaping my diaper, peeling back one loud strip at a time. I watched her wince a little as she finally opened the diaper up, lifting up the front of my diaper and laying it between my legs.

“I swear,” she said. “It’s like you and Ava are in a competition to see who can make the most disgusting diapers. Two peas in a putrid-smelling pod.”

“Sorry…”

“Do you know who I like? Megan.”

“Megan?” I asked. “Have you talked to her? Do you know anything about her?”

“Nope. Haven’t talked to her. Don’t know a thing about her. Except that she doesn’t need her poopy diapers changed. That’s why I like her.”

“We’re getting off topic,” I said. “You and Bradley?”

She pulled a wipe from the container, looked at the mess laid out before her, and chose to grab a second wipe.

“He’s coming around on the diapers, I think,” she said. “But, of course, Ms. Tamberlin wants nothing to do with the diaper changes, so that’s all me. Honestly, I don’t mind that much, considering that they’re literally just paying me to wipe asses all day. Bradley, though, he’s a lot. I think he likes me.”

“Really? He’s got a little crush? That’s cute.”

“Don’t get too smug of a tone,” Lyndie warned. “Not while you’re lying here in this disgusting diaper.”

“Right…”

“I dunno. Maybe, as wacky as it sounds, maybe there is something to the notion that you and the other assistants are, like, bonding with your bosses when they do things like change your diapers. You’d agree with that, right?”

“I think so.”

“And so if Ms. Tamberlin isn’t doing that for Bradley, but I am…”

“You think he sees you as some sort of…boss? Mommy?”

“Maybe,” she said, laughing. “Something like that. It’s just a theory I’m kicking around.”

“But you don’t hate it.”

“Right.”

We both laugh, though the humor is cut short when I see Lyndie grimace again as she works at cleaning up my disaster.

“I need a bathtub,” she said. “Or maybe a high-powered hose.”

My cheeks got a little warmer as I imagined being positioned on my hands and knees while Lyndie blasted the brown mush from my bottom with a hose. Humiliating, yet slightly exciting–like most things, it seemed.

“Excited about your mother coming up?” she asked.

“Not especially.”

“Do you think I could meet her?” Lyndie asked. I wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking or not–I had seen that teasing smile so many times that I was starting to assume it was just her default expression.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“What? Why? I’m a nice girl.”

“Are you? You always seem like the kind of girl a mom would see as a troublemaker.”

“See, a true troublemaker is adept at charming mothers. I’ve never disappointed a mother before. Well, except my own, probably–not that we’re talking about that.”

The damp wipes caressed my skin, wicking away the slowly diminishing amount of filth I had pushed into my diaper. I watched as Lyndie casually moved my locked-up cock so that she could clean around it. It was as if it wasn’t even a cock anymore–now it was just a decoration that was in the way. Her fingers, behind the wipe, snuck between the cheeks of my bottom, summoning the slightest little groan from me. As necessary as it was to be cleaned there, I didn’t think I was ever going to get used to that feeling. Perhaps because it was the only area linked to my stimulation these days.

“It’d probably be better if I didn’t involve anyone from work when I met my mother,” I said.

“Are you sure? I could be, like, the most perfect girlfriend.”

I still wasn’t clear on whether or not she was joking, but the more I thought about it, the less it seemed like the worst idea in the world. If I wanted to prove to my mother that I was doing just dandy without her watchful eye, perhaps it was best done by showing that I had help from a confident and charming young lady. The kind that she probably dreamed I’d find.

That, combined with Ms. Heller’s offer of putting my mother and I up in a fancy restaurant of my choice in the city, was starting to look like a pretty attractive presentation.

I tried to imagine the look on my mother’s face in this scenario. So far as she knew, I was just a student and an intern. Her head would explode if I took her out to the classiest eatery in town, arm-in-arm with a confident young woman that I had never told her about.

“Earth to baby,” Lyndie said, interrupting my daydream.

“Oh…sorry. I was distracted. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were planning on a mess like this while your mother was visiting.”

I was pretty sure that Mommy had already made that joke. Still, it was a fair question.

“N-no,” I said. “No diapers. I can’t risk that.”

“No diapers at all?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But what if…”

“I’m not a literal infant,” I said. “I can use the toilet for a day.”

“When’s the last time you even used a toilet?” she asked. “You do remember how, right? Like, how to flush and all that?”

“I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

Famous last words, of course. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just cursed myself to dropping the biggest load of my entire life into my pants while sitting at a table with my mother.

“Seriously, though,” she said. “How about it? I play the role of your girlfriend? Charm the pants right off of her?”

“You were serious about that?”

She shrugged, wrapping up her detailed clean-up on my bottom. The old diaper was being hauled away, along with however many wipes it took to get my skin looking it’s classic pasty-white once more.

“Your skin is looking a little rough,” she said. “I think a life of going potty in your pants is finally catching up with you.”

“It does seem kind of raw lately.”

“I have something for that,” she said, holding up a tube of some sort of cream. There was a baby’s face on the packaging, looking at me with some smug ‘You’re just like me now!’ glare. “If you’re going to be wearing diapers as much as you are, I think we’ll have to start applying this with every change.”

And then my legs were up in the air again as she massaged the contents of the tube into my skin–thoroughly into each cheek of my ass. I didn’t think it was worse than having her scrape my bowel movement off of my skin–but it certainly felt like I had reached a whole new phase of baby. The ointment phase. That was humiliating.

Then again, if I can trust someone to rub baby ointment into my suffering skin, maybe I could trust that person to do just about anything. Including helping me craft a ruse to convince my mother that I was doing better than she could ever imagine.

“Hey,” I said, as she held my legs in the air and rubbed lotion into my bottom.

“Yeah?”

“Are you free for brunch on Saturday?”

[therende]

Clark should wear a diaper or at least a pull-up when his mother visits; accidents happen especially when you've been wearing for a long time. Smart move asking Lydia to join them for lunch; it will reduce the scrutiny that Clark is going to be under by his mother.

[sklawlor]

better smelling like flowers rather than a landfill and smells like someone took a shit in a field of flowers were just classic.

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Forty-Seven

Two days until my mother visits.

The morning seemed off-kilter from the start. In my efforts to snooze my phone’s alarm, I had inadvertently turned it off. While I didn’t oversleep too much, I had lost enough time that I was left scrambling through the apartment to get ready. It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to find a pair of matching socks–I ended up with one blue and one black sock. I almost put my pants on backwards. And when I finally did get them on–correctly–I realized that my diaper was already saturated to the point of near-leaking.

I was sure I had, but I couldn’t remember when I had wet myself that much.

Normally, I’d save my morning diaper for Mommy–or Lyndie, if Mommy wasn’t in the mood–but there was no way I was going to make it to work with dry pants if I went out in this diaper. So, setting myself even further behind in schedule, I changed myself before sprinting out the door.

I missed my usual train, though the next came not too long after. I’d show up later than I normally would, but at least I wouldn’t be late. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to procure a seat on this train, and I was left standing in the aisle, holding on to the rail above. This might not have been bad either, except that my ass was now uncomfortably close to a young woman in a seat near me. With every bend in the tracks, I felt myself swaying a little closer to her. I could at least be thankful that my diaper wasn’t so wet–or worse–that she could catch a whiff of it. But my midsection seemed to permanently stink of baby powder and ointment these days. And I still didn’t own pants that completely concealed the thickness of my diapers.

I did my best to avoid eye-contact. I didn’t want to know if she had seen–or smelled–anything strange about me. WIth my luck, though, I’d be a story she told her friends later.

When I finally did arrive in the office, I found that Ms. Heller’s door was shut and locked. I panicked for a moment, fearing that because I had been a few minutes later than usual, she had simply locked me out of her office to teach me a lesson. But I could hear the faintest sound of talking from the other side of the door. It seemed to be a meeting that I just wasn’t privy to. Fine by me.

“You’re late.” Lyndie had snuck behind me and waited for me at my desk.

“I’m not late. Just later than usual.”

“You know who she’s talking to, right?”

I shook my head. “Should I?”

“Thomas Pritchard.”

“Oh, uhm…Anderson.”

She nodded.

“She didn’t tell me about this,” I said. It seemed like the kind of thing that Mommy would normally keep me informed about. Honestly, it hurt a little that I didn’t know about it.

“I think it all came together pretty quickly,” Lyndie said. “Besides, it was probably pretty smart of her not to include you in this. Considering, you know, Pritchard is pissed about you and I getting promoted.”

“What do you think they’re saying?” I asked, almost to myself as I stared at the closed door. There was no way to see into the office. Which was kind of reassuring, actually, since lots of unspeakable things have happened in there.

“She’s probably showing him pictures of you in chastity and diapers.”

“I…” I shook my head, flustered. I knew that wasn’t what they were talking about, but the idea derailed me for a moment. “I doubt that’s it.”

She laughed. “I’ll never get tired of how easily you get all worked up. Is it the chastity? Does it do weird things to your brain when your pee-pee hasn’t been hard in a while?”

“Jesus, quiet down,” I hissed, quickly looking around to see if anyone had noticed. “And…yes. Probably.”

“I don’t see any reason to stress about it,” Lyndie said, shrugging. “We’ve met Anderson–er–Pritchard. He’s not that fearsome of a dude. And he’s taking on the executives of a big company like this? They’ll probably just pay him some money to keep his mouth shut. Or…they’ll kill him.”

“Wh-what? No! They’re not going to kill him.”

She laughed and playfully shrugged. “You don’t think Mommy is capable of killing someone?”

“She just about killed me when she…” I stopped myself, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to talk about the time she fucked my ass in Seattle.

“Jesus,” she said mockingly, repeating what I had just said to her. “Quiet down.”

I looked back at the closed door, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. But Lyndie was probably right–Pritchard was just some ‘dude.’ What chance did he stand against a corporation like this? Against wealth? Against, assumedly, blood-hungry vampires?

“I’m going to go get something for breakfast,” Lyndie said. “You want to come with?”

“Thanks, but…I think I’ll pass.”

I didn’t want to say it aloud, but I felt like I needed to be there. Whatever the conversation was about, or however it was going, I knew that Mommy wouldn’t have been happy having it. I wanted to be there when she was done. Her loyal puppy. Or, punching bag, if needed.

“Suit yourself,” she said, smiling. She probably saw right through me. “But please let me know if she ends up throwing Pritchard out the door, on his ass.”

“I’ll send you photos if that happens.”

“You’re the best, Clarky.”

Left to my own devices, there wasn’t much more I could do except wait. Every minute or so, I’d turn my head and take a look at her office door. Still closed. I just wanted to know what was happening in there.

It occurred to me that what I really wanted was a distraction from thinking about my mother. Getting wrapped up in the Pritchard-situation was working just fine, too. Between my off-kilter morning, and the closed door, I had barely even thought about my mother since the night before.

At last, the door opened, and he had emerged. He looked different to me. I don’t think he had ever changed, it was just the way I viewed him that had changed. I thought about the day he gave me the award to hang on the wall–the one that would lead me to meeting Ms. Heller for the first time. He seemed so sure of himself. He seemed important. But seeing him now, I was reminded that he wasn’t really much of anything. He looked…sniveling. Rat-like.

“You’ll consider what we’ve talked about and come back to me with an answer, yes?” Mommy asked. She was in the doorway, but hadn’t stepped out of the office.

“You’ll hear from me soon,” Pritchard said to her. He looked like he was trying to put on a brave face. He looked scared.

“Ah, Clark,” Mommy said to me as Pritchard walked away. “Late morning?”

“I-I wasn’t late.”

She smiled–that teasing smile I knew better than to trust on most days. “Come. Step into my office.”

It was as if I had no agency of my own. She said the words and invisible puppet-strings suddenly lifted my limbs for me, making me walk into the office without even thinking about it.

“Good morning, Mommy,” I said as she closed the door behind me. Suddenly, as if needing the release, my mouth started spewing information: “I accidentally turned off my alarm this morning, and then I almost walked out of the house with a diaper that was way too soaked. And then I was on the train and my butt was in this girl’s face and…”

My voice trailed off as I realized that we weren’t the only people in the room. The woman didn’t look much older than me or Lyndie, and I could see her lips were already curled into a knowing grin.

“Clark, I’d like you to meet Desiree Watkins. She’s on the company’s legal team.”

“Oh, uhm…nice to meet you,” I said, hand extended towards her as I felt my face turn a vibrant red.

“Likewise,” Desiree said, her hand reaching up and shaking mine. “And no need to worry, your Mommy has filled me in on all your little adventures thus far.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it just about knocked the wind out of me. How many more people would be revealed as being a part of this world? Or at least knowing about it? Who else knew about my ‘little adventures?’

“Despite my urging, Desiree has never partook in taking on an assistant of her own. Though I think we both know she could use one.”

“Honestly,” Desiree said, “I’d probably just make them do all my paperwork for me.”

“What’s the fun in that?” asked Mommy. “You want an assistant who can get you off.”

Desiree laughed. “Having someone do my paperwork? That’d get me off plenty, don’t you worry.”

“One of these days I’m going to lend you my Clarky,” Mommy said. “And you’ll have to give him a good test drive and let me know what you think after.”

“Of course,” Desiree said. “Send him over sometime.”

I didn’t really want to change the subject, but I wasn’t sure I could take much more of this teasing. “So that was Thomas Pritchard, then?”

I knew who he was. The question sounded silly coming out of my mouth, though Mommy didn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s him,” Mommy said, nodding. “The villainous little wretch.”

“What does he want?”

Mommy shrugged. “Money, more than anything. He thinks he knows things and that knowing things entitles him to compensation. Or else he runs off and tells everyone all sorts of nasty secrets.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“In exchange for his silence and a rather thorough non-disclosure agreement, he’ll be compensated and sent on his way,” Desiree said.

“For his sake,” Mommy said, “I hope he doesn’t include us on his resume when he looks for a new job.”

“Did he actually…know anything? Because I just thought he was mad that he didn’t get a promotion.”

Desiree and Mommy shared a brief glance before looking back at me.

“For a while, that’s what we thought too,” Mommy said. “But it appears he’s learned a few things. A few specific details, in fact.”

“What sort of details?”

“The word ‘diapers’ came up in conversation today,” Desiree said. “Among other things.”

“H-how does he know about that?”

“We don’t know,” Mommy said. “But, given some of the details he’s mentioned, I think someone is talking to him.”

“But who?”

“I would be surprised if it was anyone on the executive team,” Mommy said. “While I have no doubt that Yang would turn his back on us for his own benefit, I can’t imagine why he–or any other leader–would choose to work with that sniveling little worm.”

Sniveling! That’s what I said!

“More than likely,” Desiree said, “it’s one of the assistants. They’d have the most to gain.”

I sighed, already unhappy with the direction this conversation was going. “I don’t think one of us would do something like that.”

“We’d like to think that was true too,” Mommy said, her voice more serious now. “But it certainly sounds like there’s someone we can’t trust anymore.”

“I could talk to them,” I said. “Ava, Bradley. Even Megan. Maybe they’d be honest with me.”

“You’re a good boy,” Mommy cooed, immediately restoring my cheeks to their blushing status. “But I think you already know too much about this. I’m going to call a meeting of the leadership team and we’ll discuss our options with Desiree.

I sighed, but still nodded. Honestly, it was probably for the best. I was barely an effective assistant–I doubted I was all that good of a detective.

“We’ll schedule a meeting for later,” Mommy said to Desiree. “In the meantime, there are some other pressing matters to turn our attention to.”

What could be more pressing than this?

“Baby, could you show me your diaper? We need to see if it’s time for a change or not.”

“B-but…” I glanced towards Desiree, catching the amused grin I was hoping not to see.

“Nothing she hasn’t seen before, I can assure you,” Mommy said. “So let’s go. You know what to do.”

There was little point in hemming or hawing anymore. Mommy would always get what Mommy wanted. Just as she had when she summoned me to her office, I felt the strings being pulled again. Suddenly, I was unbuckling my belt and lowering my pants.

“That is a disappointingly clean diaper,” Mommy said.

“But he looks awfully cute in it,” Desiree cooed.

“Right?” Mommy asked. “I swear, he looks even better in a diaper.”

“It’s the baby-face,” Desiree said, nodding. “Once you know he’s wearing a diaper, it’s like you can’t imagine him not wearing a diaper.”

“Exactly.”

My face reached an entirely new level of red.

“Alright, pull your pants back up, Baby. I sent you an email this morning with some things I need done today, so why don’t you waddle back to your desk and get started on them, hm? And next time you come into my office, I’d like for that diaper to be a little dirtier. Understood?”

“Y-yes.”

Her eyebrows lifted, as if waiting for me to say something more specific.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Very good. Off you go, then.”

They continued talking as I walked out the door, already conversing as I wasn’t there. I couldn’t make out all the words, though I thought I heard Deisree say ‘cute baby.’ That was probably all I needed to hear.

At my desk, I checked Mommy’s email, finding myself a little disappointed by how mundane the tasks were. Filing. Sending emails. Making a phone call. Ordering her lunch. I’d get to all of those things immediately, but there were other things on my mind that I needed a moment to think about.

Was there a traitor among the assistants? And was ‘traitor’ too dramatic a description?

No, it felt right. Whoever it was, they were a traitor.

I grabbed a piece of scrap paper from my desk and started scribbling down some names.

Ava? No, impossible. She was so sweet. She was my friend. But… She did say that she had something to tell me the other day, and we still hadn’t connected so that she could tell me what it was. Was it possible that this was her secret? Had she somehow been coerced into providing information to Pritchard?

Or maybe it was Bradley. I still didn’t know him very well. He and Lyndie seemed to have been spending more time together as of late, though. And what if he had been trying to get closer to Lyndie so he had more information to feed Pritchard?

Or Megan. Who I knew absolutely nothing about. So far as I knew, she wasn’t a diaper-wearer. She didn’t talk to any of the other assistants. She seemed to be pretty isolated in general. On one hand, I could see it being easy for her to dish on everyone else when she wasn’t that close to us. On the other, did she really know all that much to share with Pritchard?

What about…Lyndie? Arguably, she knew the most of any of us. But, no. No way. Lyndie was more my friend and ally than Ava was. I trusted her.

You’re not a detective. Let it go.

I sighed and folded the piece of paper in half before slipping it in my pocket. Something to think about later, maybe.

The day marched forward, as it does, and I managed to cross everything off of Mommy’s list. In fact, by the time I was ready to inform her that I had done so, I even had a sopping wet diaper to show her–the requirement for returning to her office.

My steps past the threshold were more cautious this time, as I looked to make sure that there were no strangers or visitors sitting in Mommy’s office. For once, I’d have loved not to humiliate myself just because I failed to be more observant. The coast was clear.

“Such a good boy, you are,” she cooed, stroking my wet diaper with her hand. “You know, I really wish I could spend some time playing with you. Seattle kind of spoiled us, huh? We don’t get the same time for interaction while we’re here at the office.”

“No, not really.”

“Do you have plans for tomorrow night?” she asked.

“Other than stressing out about my mother arriving the day after? Not really…”

“Would you like to come over for dinner? Nothing fancy. Nothing to stress about. Just you and me. Some wine. Some…objects being pushed into your bottom?”

I momentarily forgot how to speak. And think. I took a deep breath as I rebooted.

“Th-that sounds very nice, Mommy. I’d like that.”

“Thought so. Well, then. I’ve got lots to do. And you should get your soggy caboose re-pampered. Why don’t you head on over to the nursery and see what Lyndie can do for you.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

A week ago, the very thought of going to Mommy’s house after work would’ve probably sent me into a stressful spiral I’d never recover from. But a lot had happened in the last week. Seattle happened in the last week. And now, with potential office moles and the pending visit from my mother, going to Mommy’s house sounded absolutely perfect.

I was floating down the hallways towards the nursery, high on the thought of what Mommy’s home would be like.

And then I reached the nursery door. Locked.

Not completely unheard of–maybe she was in there with someone? Ava? Bradley?

“Hello Clark,” Lyndie said, opening the door–but just a crack. “Can I help you?”

“Well…I’m sure you can imagine why I’m here.”

She rolled her eyes. “How bad is it?”

“I mean…pretty wet.”

“But are you leaking?”

“No.”

“Stinky?”

“I… No, I don’t believe so.”

“Do you think you could come back in, like, an hour?” she asked.

“Are you in there with someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, sounding a little flustered. “I’m sorry, I wish I could let you in right now, but I’m a little tied up with something else. Just come back later. I’ll take care of you.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“Thank you, Clark. And, uhm, one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“About what?”

“Exactly,” she said. “Good boy.” The door closed.

As I shuffled back to my desk–the thickness of the wet diaper not allowing for normal strides–I tried to imagine what was going on in the nursery that she didn’t want to tell me–or anyone else–about.

Bradley. It had to be. She had said, herself, that she had been developing some sort of ‘mommy’ dynamic with him recently. And he had been in the nursery yesterday when I came by–just hanging out. I smirked when I thought of this–Lyndie trying to hide the naughty fun she had been having with little baby Bradley.

I almost didn’t mind tromping back and forth through the office in a wet diaper if that was the case. Good for her. Good for him.

But wait…

Halfway to my desk, Bradley scurrying by, a pile of binders carefully balanced in his arms. Bradley wasn’t in Lyndie’s office, and it didn’t look like he had been, either.

Who else would be in the nursery that she wouldn’t want me to know about?

I thought about the slip of paper in my pocket–the list of ‘suspects’ for the potential mole.

No. No way. But if anyone else had been in the nursery, then I knew she would’ve told me. Hell, she’d have even told me if it was Bradley.

I pivoted on my heel and went back to the nursery. I didn’t try the door again. Instead I just waited. And waited.

And then, when the door finally opened–almost an hour later–my worst fear had been confirmed.

Thomas Pritchard was walking out of the nursery. A smug smile on his face.

The whole day had been off from the start.

 

[Babypants]

Don't these two have a prior relationship with Pritchard, but under the name of Anderson?

[bigbear95]

Come to think of it, Lyndie did show someone else the nursery during the side chapters a while ago. I would love to know her reason for showing Anderson this.

[sherlock]

Wait....., Pritchard gets paid off, AND gets put back in diapers? 

Has his mummy taken a second baby assistant? 

This dynamic doesn't sit well. He's calling the shots and has like more power than the mummy executives, he's made them promote him and chose to become a baby. 

He needs to be knocked down many pegs. Wipe the smug look off his face. 

It would be better to quickly write Anderson out of the story. It doesn't really fit with how the execs operate. He obviously didn't test as a suitable assistant baby or one of the execs would have taken him of their own volition. No exec has an opening for a baby. 

I already don't like this character at all. 

[D503]

Hmm... maybe Pritchard is blackmailing Lyndie. Dangerous game!

[sherlock]

That still wouldn't fit. The execs have been presented as being all powerful. One tiny dickhead office prick being able to turn their thumbscrews makes no sense. They could easily make him disappear. 

It doesnt make sense for the narrative. They really should have just cornered him and got him to confess who the blabbermouth is. I'm afraid indulging the guy and giving him promotion to diapers, doesn't make any sense at all. 

This cant have been their first outsider getting a hint of what's going on. The board are all with child, it's a well oiled machine, this wouldn't even be a situation that even required a paragraph. He would be disappeared and not a threat at all

[dmavn]

Promotion to diapers? How did you get there from the following conversation?

-In exchange for his silence and a rather thorough non-disclosure agreement, he’ll be compensated  and sent on his way,” Desiree said.

-“For his sake,” Mommy said, “I hope he doesn’t include us on his resume when he looks for a new  job.”

If anything anderson went back to get more info out of lyndie, and by the smile he was wearing when he left, he obviously got what he wanted…

[sherlock]

Why would he go to lender and the nursery? 

I think a "pretty thorough NDA" would also include, sort of do not dig any further. Actually going into the nursery would be the opposite. 

If some disgruntled guy is causing trouble and making allegations out of jealousy, even if they have shred of truth. You don't give the guy ammunition and give him the whole picture and information. You don't show him what he just believes is true. He couldn't have done anything legally because he had no proof, now he has everything and could ruin them, demand more than the pay off. 

It's just stupid, and makes no sense, a pretty ridiculous move by the execs. 

If an employee is making some noise about some part of the business not being up to code, but with no actual evidence, you don't escort the guy to show them the actual fault in the system,you get rid of the guy, and you fix the problem on the quiet so nobody else can try and leverage you on it again. 

 

Why are they enabling a guys jealous power grab? 

 

It's not how a clandestine executive established micro community would react. He was no threat. 

They'd bury him, make him disappear, make his name mud so that he would struggle to find work anywhere. You've removed the air of control and power the execs lorded. Now they get scared and fold to a guy saying things based on no evidence. 

They have no fear to go to a restaurant and have the baby poop their diaper at the table publicly, imagine the rumors that would have created was any outside the office, but they fear one insignificant guy making a fuss because he's not climbing the ladder? It makes no sense 

...., what about all the characters in the interim memorandum chapters...., why are they not getting paid off? They had equally as much proof as Anderson? 

 

At this point I think it would be a good idea to retcon and rewrite or just ammend the. Narrative before releasing the next chapter. 

I've really liked the story up to this point, but this really doesn't track with the narrative. This may be my jump off point for continuing to follow it

[Daiperboy27]

Wooooow now that is a plot twist, forget game of thrones this is peak drama!

[Babypants]

10 hours ago, sherlock said:

At this point I think it would be a good idea to retcon and rewrite or just ammend the. Narrative before releasing the next chapter. 

This, in my professional judgment, would be a mistake.  A great many stories that appear on this site suffer from linearity.  You create characters, structure a narrative around a familiar theme, and then plod along chapter by chapter, A to B to C to D ad infinitum.  Even a well-written story will run out of steam when it goes down this path.  To sustain tension, you need periodically to relieve it, and a reliable way to do so is to take a detour that the reader doesn't see coming.  Having Clark focus on Lyndie means that he is not focusing on his mother, which opens up all sorts of possibilities when we return to that story arc-- possibilities that otherwise would not be there.  He could, for example, be so rattled by his fear for Lyndie that he doesn't prepare well enough to hold his mother at bay.  So, I expect this detour to have a positive impact on the narrative arc.

[CCApril]

The Author may also be looking for way to give the executives a push to leave this company and form their own. Build it their way so to speak. There are a lot of things that could happen after tis point in the story. Taking advantage of a character introduced a long time ago to move the plot along is good writing to me.  Good story, fun characters. Even if you didn't like the Pritchard character why jump off? I want to see what happens to Clark and his Mommies!

April

[sherlock]

It doesn't make sense. The inclusion of Pritchard removes the power, status, influence, control and air the executives have, which makes no sense. 

He's a nobody, deemed not good enough to be a baby assistant. 

It just doesn't track with the story. How can the babies be so controlled and under the. Thumbs of their respective execs when the execs are so fearful of a guy spreading a rumor, when a whole retinue of people in the memorandums have similar scraps of info to make rumors, and a whole restaurant and an execs daughter has more information to spread rumors, and the general execs don't feel those a threat to them. 

 

There was already a male character willingly becoming a baby.., the newer assistant that lyndie was starting a relationship with. 

 

Pritchard has no direction to go that the other character couldn't explore better. 

 

 

[Babypants]

 

55 minutes ago, sherlock said:

Pritchard has no direction to go that the other character couldn't explore better.

This character was introduced all the way back in chapter one.  Good authors build up a store of characters early in the tale to give themselves room to juke and jive in later chapters.  Personally, I would have judged a disgruntled employee an essential feature of a story like this.  In other words, absent Pritchard, the story would strike me as akin to a fairy tale, and be less worth reading.

[sherlock]

No, the female assistant that doesn't wear diapers would be the natural angle to go down. 

 

Pritchard was a plot tool to mirror the protagonists only just started in the company, and to set the scene of that progressing up the ladder isn't easy, and then is used as an opposite to Clark, to show how Clark is seen differently to Pritchard in the eyes of execs. And how not everyone is suitable for promotion, and how very selective the execs are. 

The assistant not in nappies, knows of the situation, like Pritchard, but unlike Pritchard she was deemed suitable, even if no diapered currently. 

The execs and the micro culture they have, which is wider than just that office, the woman they visited first a business trip, the lawyer. It's not a house of twigs. 

 

To complete demolish the execs over one guys rumors. Doesn't make sense. The execs community is pretty much untouchable. They know what they're doing. 

 

 

I forget the name of the story, but it was also an excellent novel up to a point - remember the story where two Littles go to uni, I think for Law, and the girl gets accused of maturosis, but the way around adoption, she can go home to her dad, but she loses teeth and potty training. She takes years learning to hold it again, in hopes to see the boy again....., but the boy is with a amazon that makes medicine to destroy Littles, the girls accidentally takes some via shampoo, and all her work us undone, loses her brain, so the amazons solution is to rebirth her, so essentially killing the original character and removing her love rival. 

 

I hope it rings a bell. But this story is like that. It gets to a point where the original narrative direction is ruined. I just feel it's happening here. 

[quietlyhumiliated]

On 7/15/2023 at 2:06 AM, sherlock said:

Wait....., Pritchard gets paid off, AND gets put back in diapers? 

The conversation you've spawned has been very interesting. It's hard to know how to navigate it as the writer. On one hand, I know how these threads play out in the story. On the other hand, it does make me wonder if I could have presented this a little differently. 

So I'll offer this: I'd encourage you to keep reading. The specific statement I've quoted? Maybe you'll feel differently about it when you know more. Chapter 51, specifically. (And, hey, if you don't want to wait...you could always gimme $3 and read it on my Patreon right now. Just sayin'.)

Or, maybe you'll be even more upset about it, I dunno. And, honestly, if that's the case, I would love it if you told me so.