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

[quietlyhumiliated]

Sixty-Three

It was as if I had completely forgotten how to walk. I was bowlegged, taking slow plods forward like each of my feet suddenly weighed too much. I had walked around in diapers plenty in the past–even messy diapers. But this one was a different beast–the enema seemed to have summoned forth a mudslide down there, and every movement of my body caused the mess to shift and slide about in the diaper.

“You doing alright?” Megan asked. She slowed down her pace a bit to match mine. There was some genuine sympathy in her voice, but her lips were also curled into an amused smile.

“It’s just feeling like quite a mess back there,” I sighed.

“I bet.”

“How much further do we have to go?” I had lost all sense of direction and context while in this state. I needed Megan to lead me back.

“A few blocks. Would it help if I carried you back like a baby?”

My eyes widened. As humiliating as the idea of being carried across town by a strong woman while I marinated in my diaper was, it also sounded quite nice.

“Are you that strong? N-no offense. I just…”

“I have a gym membership, thank you very much. But…no, I doubt I could pick you up and carry you like that. It sounds nice though, doesn’t it?”

“A little.” I was being a little more honest than I wanted to be. Which probably meant that my mushy diaper was starting to work some magic on my brain. Slowly, but surely, I was probably slipping into that babyish headspace.

“At the very least, I feel like you should have a stroller, right? Then you can just be pushed around.”

“Do you think they make them in adult sizes?”

She shrugged. “I feel like there’s got to be one online somewhere.”

It was a lovely thought, I had to admit. I immediately imagined Mommy, pushing a large stroller down the street with me inside of it. I was buckled in so that I couldn’t go anywhere, and my diaper would be as swampy as it was now. People would look down at me. Maybe they’d smile. Maybe they’d be disgusted. It really wouldn’t matter–any reaction whatsoever would probably turn me on.

My daydream might have dispersed, but my head was still in the clouds. I was finding a little more rhythm in my steps as we progressed forward, but the back of my diaper was now squishing against my ass and between my legs with every step. I swore that I could almost hear it. Squish. Squish. Squelch. Squish.

“Can you smell it?” I asked Megan, my voice so low that I hoped she could hear me over the ambient sounds of the city around us.

She chuckled to herself and shrugged. “A little? Every once in a while I catch a whiff of something…icky. A certain kind of icky.”

My cheeks flared and I sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? This was my idea. Well…the enema part. The pooping-your-pants part was your Mommy’s idea.”

Did she say that loudly? Or had she just said it in a normal tone as we passed by a group of strangers–all but ensuring that someone heard her? Either way, I felt a new wave of humiliation course through my body. Somebody in that cluster had to have heard her, while catching the scent of my polluted diaper.

I was tempted to ask her to keep her voice down about things like that, but I bit my tongue instead. The darker part of myself hoped that she said more. Even louder.

“N-no,” I continued, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry that I’m going back to your apartment while smelling like this.”

“It won’t be the first time my apartment has smelled like someone messed their diaper.”

“I know, but…”

“Well, look,” she said. “What if I evened the playing field a little?”

“Huh? How?”

“I’m just saying. If you weren’t the only one with a stinky bottom, you couldn’t be upset that you were making my apartment smell bad, right?”

“I guess, sure. But…it’s not like you’re going to, uhm…”

“Poop myself? I could if I wanted to, I think. Mind you, it’s a dicey proposition–your diapering skills might let me down.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “I’m not asking you to do that.”

“I know you’re not,” she said. “But you know what? I think I want to now.”

“When?” I asked. “How?”

“Here,” she shrugged. “And now. Or…soonish.”

“You’re just going to squat here on the sidewalk and…?”

“I’m not much of a squatter.”

I chortled in disbelief. “So, what, you’re just going to…drop a load as you walk?”

“I feel like I’ve done it before,” she said. “But now you’ve got me second-guessing myself. This might be the strangest thing I’ve ever said–but I suddenly feel like I can’t remember how to mess myself.”

We both laughed at this. Honestly, this conversation was helping. It didn’t make my diaper any less disgusting to walk in. Squish. Squelch. Squish. But it at least stopped me from slipping too deep into my infantile headspace–a place where I lost control of how I acted around other people. It seemed like a dangerous thing while we were out in public.

“Do you, like, want to go into an alley again?” I asked, thinking about when she had steered me into one to try pushing something into my diaper on our way to the store earlier.

“No no,” she said. “We’re only like a block from my building. And I think I can just…”

Blorppppp. It started loud, and faded quickly.

I definitely heard that. Her cheeks reddened as the sound rumbled from her bottom. It was actually kind of amazing–there was barely any loss of speed, nor did her steps seem to be altered much.

“Y-you did it?” I asked.

She nodded. “All done.”

“So, you actually just…”

“I swear, I just shit myself,” she laughed. “Do you want to feel? Smell?”

I did, though I wasn’t about to say so. Not out here. “I believe you.”

The rest of the walk was quiet, not that we had much further to go. By the time we reached her building, I was finally noting a distinct stench around us. Was that me? Her? The both of us at once? Too, I noticed that she had begun to develop a little waddle of her own. Either her load was a little bigger than she had initially let on, or her efforts to keep a consistent stride had pushed the mess into inconvenient places.

Back in her building, we strolled past the front desk, Megan offering a little wave to the associate as her cheeks glowed pink. Could they smell us? Had they smelled Megan before?

By the time we stepped off her building’s elevator, my head was getting a little fuzzy again. Baby Clark–Baby Claire, today–was rearing her head again, and the approaching sanctuary of Megan’s apartment was shutting down the part of my brain that felt like it had to keep up more adult appearances.

“Take off your clothes,” Megan said the moment the front door was closed behind us. “Everything but your diaper.”

I obeyed. I would probably do anything she asked of me. Maybe, in this state of mind, I’d do anything that anyone asked of me. If some stranger walked into the apartment right now and told me to pour a glass of milk over my head, I could see myself doing it.

And now I want to pour a glass of milk over my head.

“You need to show your Mommy that you’ve filled your diaper up, yes?”

I nodded.

“First things first, let’s take care of that.” She reached into the pocket of my discarded pants and took out my cell phone, handing it to me to unlock for her. The sleek piece of technology almost felt alien in my hands–like I no longer had the mental capacity to remember how this thing was used. I fumbled with it for a moment before allowing my finger to type in the passcode–more muscle memory than anything else.

I handed the phone back to her, and she aimed it down at my diaper, snapping a few quick photos. She paced around me, taking photos from different angles. Some were close up. Some were from further away. For a few, she opened the back of my diaper and aimed the phone down into the messy abyss. Soon after, she was tapping away at the screen on the phone. Doing what? I couldn’t say. And I certainly didn’t care.

“All done,” she said. “She’ll be getting the photos soon enough.”

“O-oh,” I said, realizing that she had been sending them for me. “Thank you.”

“It’s cute that you have her in your phone as ‘Mom.’

Did I? I couldn’t remember, but that did sound cute.

She then undressed too. Now, we had both shed everything we had worn to the store, leaving it in piles at our feet.

“Look at us,” she said. “Two stinky little babies.”

I immediately dropped to my knees before arching my torso forward so that I was in a crawling position. I couldn’t say why I decided to do this–other than the fact that it felt right.

She followed my lead, lowering herself to her hands and knees as well. Unlike me, however, she had nice, round, tits that hung down from her chest and wobbled back and forth as she moved. We crawled towards each other, her face inching towards my swampy bottom. Just as mine approached hers. I couldn’t help but think of two dogs as they tried to smell each other’s rears.

“You’re very smelly,” she said.

“You don’t smell too good either.”

“Touche.”

For a few minutes, we were just two unsupervised babies. We crawled around without any sort of plan or sense of direction. We’d drift away from each other for a moment or two, and then crawl back towards each other, greeting each other with big stupid smiles like we hadn’t seen each other in a month.

Then, her hand reached out, stroking the back of my diaper, feeling the lumpy mass I had deposited back there.

“You’re leaking a little,” she said, her voice still soft and quieter.

“Is it bad?”

“There’s, like…uhm…brown? On your thighs.”

My cheeks warmed considerably. Mommy or Lyndie, were they here, might have called that a ‘blow out.’ They’d also laugh. Fuck. I wanted to hear them laughing at me so badly.

“Maybe I should…”

“No,” Megan said. “It’s not time for a change yet.”

“But…”

“I, uhm, want to try something,” she said. She was biting her bottom lip–one of the rare times she looked anything less than completely confident. Even when she was crawling around in her dirty diaper, she still managed to look like an absolute boss.

But of course I’d try ‘something.’ I’d fucking try anything. “Okay.”

She repositioned herself and sat back on her diaper–slowly easing her bottom onto the floor so that her mess squashed beneath her. I watched her face as she did, seeing equal parts pleasure and embarrassment in her eyes. She was just sitting there now, her legs splayed out in front of her.

“Come here,” she said.

I crawled towards her, as if crawling was the only way I knew how to move now. I made my way between her open legs, cautiously awaiting the next command. Should I tell Mommy about this? Oh, I was in no state to ask permission for anything. What was that saying? Something about asking for forgiveness instead of permission?

“Can you sit on my lap?” she asked.

“But…”

“Your dirty diaper on top of mine. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I’m already leaking and…”

“Who cares?” she shrugged. “I have a bathtub. And I want to try it. So come here.”

There was no arguing with that command–not that I wanted to. Sure, maybe we were both babies, but she was clearly the big, bossy, sister. The one who got a kick out of pushing me around a little when the parents were away. I found that I was rather fond of that dynamic.

I straddled her lap, a leg on either side of her torso as I lowered my filthy diaper onto hers. I felt the contents of my diaper squishing all over once more, finding new nooks and crannies to seep into. But once I was there–once my diaper was actually pressed into hers–I found myself surprisingly overwhelmed by just how magical it felt. And looking at her face, I could tell that she felt the same way.

“This is so naughty,” Megan said.

“Mmhmm.”

“Bounce on me,” she said. “Bounce on my diaper with yours.”

I gave it absolutely no thought and just immediately began to bounce. Just little cautious movements at first, as I was still nervous that my diaper couldn’t handle too much jostling. But feeling our thick and bloated diapers rubbing against each other quickly erased that caution from my mind, and my pace increased. Megan, too, was now thrusting her diaper up to meet mine. In a matter of moments, we were holding onto each other as we pathetically rubbed our disgusting diapers against each other. Her chastity cage would sometimes rub against mine, a cruel reminder that we could only enjoy this so much. But we were lost in the moment, working even harder to get off, as if there was somehow a way for us to find ecstasy by sheer will alone.

It went on for longer than we probably wanted to admit. Neither of us seemed willing to throw in the towel for a while–we were holding out hope that maybe we could actually end up creaming our diapers from this. But not only did that not happen, but we had completely exhausted ourselves in the attempt. Eventually I slid down from her diaper, landing on my back so that I was staring up at the ceiling. She, too, collapsed backwards onto her back.

For as frustrating as it was not to have achieved a climax, I felt good. It felt like we had accomplished something.

“I…I’ve never done that before,” she said.

“Me neither.”

“Are we insane?”

“Probably.”

“Okay,” she said, sighing. “I’m fine with that.”

“You smell,” I teased, the babyish fog in my head slowly beginning to recede.

“Oh please,” she retorted. “Have you looked down at your diaper? It looks like it’s on the verge of exploding. You’re far smellier than I am.”

“How the hell are we supposed to clean ourselves off?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a hose in the parking garage,” she said. “We could go down there and hose off each other’s asses.”

An amusing idea, though not quite as viable.

I felt a warm stream trickle into my diaper. I didn’t even know it was coming until it started. It seemed fitting for the moment–the pathetic baby dribbling into his diaper again because he’s too stupid to know how to hold it anymore.

“I have two bathrooms,” she said. “Two showers.”

“Of course you do.”

“We’ll see how much longer that lasts, I guess.”

“Hmm?”

Megan let out a long sigh–seemingly expelling the last of her own empty-headed babyspace so that she can get back to reality again.

“I don’t know all the details of what’s going on,” she said suddenly. “But I know enough to know that things are going down at the office. Mr. Yang has been feeding that Thomas Pritchard guy information about all the baby-stuff. I think he was trying to use Thomas to expose the other executives. He wanted Thomas to go and make a big scene about it. Get them fired.”

“I mean, Mr. Yang’s part of that little club too.”

“I don’t really know what his bigger plan was,” Megan shrugged. “But I think it backfired anyway.”

“It did?”

“I’m probably not supposed to know this, but it sounds like Mr. Yang telling Thomas the truth had the opposite effect than he intended. Thomas became, like, curious.”

“Right,” I muttered. Somewhere in there was Lyndie’s part of the story. Had she actually convinced Thomas to try a diaper on? Or had Thomas already been curious about it himself before they ever had a conversation?

“I really don’t know what he thinks he can get away with. But I think change is coming.”

“Probably,” I said. But that also felt like a future-us problem. There were other things we needed to take care of first. “Uhm…about those showers…”

It was nothing short of a miracle that I got myself clean again. By the time I had gotten into the bathroom, my mess had begun to work its way out of every opening possible in my diaper. I needed help so badly that I came incredibly close to calling Mommy and confessing everything–just in the hopes that she’d drop what she was doing and come to Megan’s house to help take care of me.

Somehow I did it. It took a lot of wipes. A lot of hot water, soap, and scrubbing. But I was finally feeling like I was free of the disgusting disaster I had created. And even after cleaning myself up, it felt like there were still consequences. The skin on my bottom felt uncomfortable and raw. A diaper rash, I suspected. That’d be fun to explain to Mommy and Lyndie later.

Megan had left me a fresh diaper to change into after my shower. Fittingly, it was pink in color, with cutesy princesses printed across it. I supposed it didn’t matter, and I wrapped it around myself–again wishing I had an extra set of hands to do this for me.

Megan still seemed to be in the shower when I stepped out of the other bathroom. I took the opportunity to return to the living room where I had left all the clothes I had worn here.

Oh right. My phone was there too, sitting atop a coffee table. I had been so disconnected from reality while Megan and I played with each other that I had completely forgotten about the fact that Megan had sent photos of my dirty diaper to Mommy. I was excited to see what Mommy’s response would be.

Six missed text messages. Hoo boy.

Mommy: “Well? It’s been a while since I gave you your little assignment. When am I going to see the results of that?”

Mommy: “Are you ignoring me, Clarky? That’s not a very good idea. I know I said I wasn’t going to worry about consequences and punishments, but you seem to be forcing my hand here.”

Mommy: “The silence is a little unlike you, Clarky. Is everything okay?”

The texts didn’t really make any sense to me. I knew there were pictures. Megan had taken them. A lot of them. And she even said she sent them to her.

Lyndie: “Hey, Clark. Ms. Heller reached out to me and asked if I knew where you were. I guess she hadn’t heard back from you about something and she was a little concerned? Just checking in.”

Something wasn’t right. There were pictures. And if Mommy didn’t get them…who did?

Mom: “Clark? What is this? What are these photos? Why did you send these to me?”

At first, I didn’t understand what I was reading. First Mommy claimed she didn’t get the photos. Then she said that she did get the photos, but didn’t understand them? What kind of weird game was everyone playing today?

And then I remembered something. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Noo…

Yesterday afternoon, after brunch with my mother, I changed her name on my phone. And Megan…she thought that ‘Mom’ was ‘Mommy.’ Fuck. She had even said so to me, and I was too lost in my infantile headspace to realize the error.

Which meant that my mother–my actual mother–had been sent a very disgusting collection of photos. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the photos myself. For as long as I didn’t see them, maybe I could fool myself into thinking that they weren’t that bad.

Mom: “Clark, when you have a chance, can you call me? I’m very concerned about this.”

[Babypants]

Oops.

[Night Rain]

Just asking is there any plans for Kylie to return for a small part?

[sklawlor]

talk about embarrassing. that'll be an interesting conversation between Clark and his biological mother.

[6firewall6]

As soon as I read  that it was sent to mom I said out loud oh shit thats not good.

[littlebopeeper]

Mom got her first clue when she patted Clark on the butt leaving the restaurant, and felt his padding.    I suspect that at this point she is more puzzled that he sent her the photos than shocked at what she's seeing.  We really don't know anything about Clark's childhood,  so it's hard to tell how she will react.  Was he slow to potty train?  A bedwetter?  

[quietlyhumiliated]

On 11/6/2023 at 6:27 PM, Night Rain said:

Just asking is there any plans for Kylie to return for a small part?

It remains to be seen. Kylie lives far away from Clark, and college will be taking her even further away. I kind of like the idea of Kylie being this one-time encounter - but maybe I'll can find a good reason to bring her back before the end of the story.

[dmavn]

sigh, guess my hope of kylie and clark becoming a couple are now dashed.. <snif>

[Dale Ridge]

One of my favorite stories.  Can't wait for another chapter.  

[quietlyhumiliated]

Hello. I fell behind in posting new chapters here. Here's two more chapters today, and then there's one more I want to share with you sooner than later...

 

 

Sixty-Four

With a heavy sigh, I opened the door to Mommy’s office on Monday morning and trudged through the threshold. I was half-expecting her to have a smart-ass comment ready to go, though she seemed to be biting her tongue. Looking at her face, though, I could tell there was plenty she wanted to say.

The room remained silent for a few moments. I stood in the center of the room, as I usually did when I came to her office in the morning. I was waiting for my diaper-check. I felt tired. Emotionally. Physically. My body felt like it weighed five times as much as it usually did, and everything I did was just that much more exhausting than it should’ve been.

“So,” she finally said, not standing up from her seat. “How was your weekend?”

She knew the jist of what had happened the day before. I didn’t share all the details, but I had shared enough. I told her I had gone to see Megan, and that I was there when Mommy gave the command for me to mess myself. I told her that Megan had taken it upon herself to send the photos on my behalf, inadvertently sending them to the wrong person. I told her that I didn’t know what had happened right away. And then, I had sent the photos to Mommy in the hopes that she’d buy this story.

As best as I could tell, Mommy seemed onboard with this story.

What I hadn’t told her was that the photos had been sent to my actual birth mother. I wasn’t necessarily opposed to telling Mommy about this fact, but I was still refusing to think about that aspect myself. I hadn’t told Megan about the error she had made. I hadn’t told Lyndie. Or Ava. Or Evan.

“I made some mistakes yesterday,” I finally answered.

Mommy snorted and shrugged, leaning back in her office chair as she sipped from her steaming cup of coffee. “It sounds like you may have gotten carried away. As you tend to do.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.”

She lifted her eyebrows curiously. “Sorry? To me? For what, Baby?”

“I…should’ve kept you updated as to what I was doing. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. I should’ve sent the photos myself. I should’ve…”

“Stop,” she said, holding an open palm out towards me. “You don’t owe me an apology. But I do worry about you.”

“Y-you do?”

“It seems to be happening more and more. You get so caught up in one of your little ‘baby moments’ that you seem unable to think like a rational adult.”

I shrugged. “I know. I don’t know what to do about that.”

Also…wasn’t this just as much her fault? This was her world that I had been pulled into.

“I’ll tell you what I’m tempted to do,” she said. “I’m tempted to get a little collar for you. And I’d attach a leash to it and keep you at my side at all times. You wouldn’t get much farther from me than the extent of the leash, and then I’d be able to keep an eye on you at all times.”

I found the idea to be completely humiliating, though not entirely bad. I sort of liked it. And she was right–it’d be a lot harder for me to get into trouble if I couldn’t leave her side.

I offered a little nod, unsure of what else to say.

“Alas, I bet that would be kind of frowned upon,” she sighed. “We get away with a lot around here, but I’m sure someone would draw a line when they saw employees on leashes.”

The topic of our already-strange office culture brought me back to the initial reason I reached out to Megan in the first place. “A-actually…on that note, I learned some more about what’s going on with Thomas Pritchard.”

“Is that so?” Mommy leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her desk. “Please tell me more.”

“I think he did want to go to complain and make a big deal about not getting promoted. But then Mr. Yang saw an opportunity and started telling him about the baby stuff with the assistants.”

“I see,” she said. “And Megan told you this?”

I nodded. “I don’t know how, exactly, but I think the plan is to have Thomas Pritchard reveal enough that the board is forced to do something about the executive team.”

“Hrm,” Mommy grunted. “And I assume Yang thought he had a plan where he could somehow swoop in and grab some more power for himself?”

I shrugged. “Maybe? But I think that plan might be falling apart a little…” I stopped myself. I was on the verge of telling her about Lyndie’s plans to distract Thomas with diapers–a plan so insane that it might actually be working. But it wasn’t my place to talk about that. I was risking getting Lyndie into trouble–especially while I didn’t know all the details.

“Why do you think that?” Mommy asked.

“I, uh…I guess I don’t actually know. It’s just a hunch.”

“No offense, Baby. But I’m not sure that hunches are going to save the day here.”

I blushed, feeling a little dumb for opening my mouth about it at all. Though I was thankful that I hadn’t done any damage to Lyndie.

“Well then,” she said, finally standing up from her chair. “Let’s take a look at this morning’s diaper, shall we?”

Routine felt good. It felt normal. It helped block out some of the stress I was feeling in my chest. The unanswered text message from my mother. The secrets I was keeping about Lyndie and Thomas. And Lyndie and Bradley. And me and Ava. And maybe all the details of my day with Megan. For a few moments, I could just block it all out as Mommy pulled down my pants and inspected my diaper.

“A little damp,” she reported. “I was expecting this to be a little more swollen this morning.”

“Hm?”

“Did you know I keep a spreadsheet? More of a ‘potty chart,’ if I’m being honest.”

My cheeks reddened at the thought of Mommy keeping track of my diaper usage. “You do?”

“Oh yes. It’s actually a rather impressive looking doc. Come here. I’ll show you.”

She walked behind her desk, pulling up a file on her laptop. I waddled behind, my pants still around my ankles as I tried not to fall over.

And there it was–a rather expansive spreadsheet with various tabs for each week, and notes made throughout. Some of it made sense to me. Yellow and brown cells weren’t too challenging to decipher. But then there were blue cells too. The chart also seemed to account for things like how long I had been in a particular diaper and who ended up changing me. It was so thorough that it was actually kind of…sweet.

“There’s gaps here and there,” she said to me. “Obviously I’m not with you 24/7. Another argument for the leash, I suppose.”

I blushed again. “That’s…quite a lot of data.”

“Well, I do have a love of numbers and information,” she said. “Hence my role in the company.”

“And that’s all…me?”

She nodded. “Your entire soggy, stinky, time as my baby–condensed into a spreadsheet. But, I can do some rather interesting things with it. We’re coming to a point now where there’s enough data that I can start making predictions about your diaper habits. Case in points, you’re most likely to come to work in a very wet diaper on Monday mornings. And you usually go through more diapers on a Friday than any other day.”

I had to step away. Waddle away, really. It was weird seeing all that information in one place. Every diaper. Every humiliating trip from my desk to Mommy’s office, or to Lyndie’s nursery. Every embarrassing story. Every time I almost had a panic attack because I thought someone could smell me–it was all here. And the longer this went on, the more she’d be able to glean from this information. She’d know me–the diapered part of me, at least–better than I’d know me. She probably already did.

I wasn’t upset about it. It was just a lot.

“The board meeting is this week,” Mommy finally said. I swore that I heard the slightest waver in her tone. Worry, perhaps?

“The one where Thomas is supposed to…”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“Do you think we should be…worried?”

She sighed. “I’m not worried. Though I do think this week is going to be a challenge.”

“What can I do?” I asked. “To help you. To help anyone, I guess.”

“You just keep using your diapers for me, Baby. I’ll take care of this.”

I nodded, feeling my cheeks warm a little. “Of course. But…”

“Yes?”

“What if…it’s the worst case scenario? What if everything falls apart?”

Mommy smiled. I needed to see that–a genuine and warm grin. “Baby, I have a plan B. And a plan C. And a plan D. I can’t predict the future, but I can at least be ready for it.”

I nodded, feeling some comfort from those words.

“Now then, I’ve got a few calls this morning that I should get ready for. I sent you an email this morning with some files that I need pulled, so maybe you could take care of that for me?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Thank you for being such a good boy.” That never failed to get the dopamine going.

“I, uhm, suppose it's inevitable that I use this diaper a little bit more than I already have…”

“I could use the pick-me-up,” she said, smiling. “Even if I’m on a call, you come in here and show me when you do.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

She pulled up my pants for me, tucking my shirt back into them and fastening my belt again. Such a simple gesture, but one that still managed to make me feel wonderfully small.

“Off you go then, Baby.”

But I couldn’t go back to my desk and start my actual work just yet. My little flub about Lyndie’s plans with Thomas had me thinking that I really needed to know more about what was going on there. Especially if the future of our jobs depended on it.

As I walked across the office, I was thinking about… Well, I was thinking about a lot of things. I was thinking about everything, truth be told. I was thinking about Ava, who would be leaving the company soon. I was thinking about whatever debacle Lyndie had gotten herself into with Thomas. I was thinking about Megan.

I sighed, remembering that I still hadn’t talked to my mother. There were a number of unanswered texts from my mother on my phone. Eventually, I was pretty sure that I’d have to talk to her. And the longer it took for me to reach out, the harder it would be to make excuses. Would she believe me if, ten years from now, I finally called her and said that my phone was hacked and that the photos weren’t mine?

My life is a fucking mess.

My knock on the nursery door was almost immediately answered by Lyndie, who–like Mommy–had a slightly worried look on her face.

“Oh, hey Clark.”

“Everything alright?”

“Come inside,” she said, beckoning me to follow her with her hand. I did, and she closed the door behind her.

I had to ask again: “Everything alright?”

She drew in a long breath before responding. “Hopefully?”

“What’s, uh, going on?”

“Tommy. Uh…Thomas. He was supposed to come by this morning, but he’s kind of a no-show right now.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what the stakes were here, but her nervous energy was making me a little nervous too. “How bad is it if he doesn’t come?”

“I worry that it would mean that he’s decided to still go through with talking to the board.”

“As opposed to…doing what, exactly, with you? Like, I know you offered him diapers–and you said he seemed to take the idea–but what then?”

She shrugged. “I thought it would be pretty straightforward. I put him in diapers. Treat him like a baby. And then, voila, he drops whatever plans he had and we all move on with our lives.”

“He was into it, wasn’t he?” I asked. “You made it sound like he was really into them.”

“He was,” she nodded. “You should’ve seen his face, Clark. Lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree or something. The boy probably has all sorts of mommy issues…”

“Like the rest of us.”

“Sure. He was one of us. I was sure of it. He took diapers home with him on Friday. He was supposed to check in with me first thing this morning. He had even texted me over the weekend, telling me how much he liked them. He sent me pictures. But here we are, and…”

“He’s not here,” I sighed.

“I thought it was a slam dunk,” she said. “I thought I had fixed everything.”

“Maybe he’s still coming,” I said. “He’s just late.”

I had another thought: What if Mr. Yang had caught wind of Lyndie’s plan? She wasn’t just trying to persuade Thomas to not go to the board–she was trying to persuade him to doublecross Mr. Yang. What if he had offered Thomas something even better than…diapers?

“He’s an hour late. Did you see him at all? This morning?”

I shook my head. “No. But, then again, I feel like I don’t see him at all most days.”

“I’m going to call his desk again,” she said. “Just in case he’s there.”

Lyndie tried calling from the phone on her desk. It still amused me that Lyndie had an entire desk in the nursery–was there a lot of paperwork to do with this role? Maybe she was contributing to Mommy’s vast spreadsheet. Maybe she had a few spreadsheets of her own for the other babies in her care.

“No answer,” Lyndie said.

“If he’s not here–like, in your office–and he’s not at his desk either, that might be a good thing, right? Maybe he’s just sick today. Or…he quit.”

“Maybe he fell into a giant pit,” Lyndie shrugged.

“Seems kind of grisly, don’t you think?”

“It’d fix everything though, wouldn’t it?”

“Look, if there’s ever a time in my life when you think that all your problems would be fixed if I just fell in a pit,” I said, “could you just tell me? That’s the sort of thing I’d want to know.”

“Fair enough,” she replied. “Can you just, like, distract me for a minute? So that I’m not just thinking about how I might have fucked things up by taking matters into my own hands? You must’ve done something embarrassing or weird lately, right?”

“Really?”

“Am I wrong?”

I sighed, shaking my head. As much as I wanted to be annoyed that she just assumed my life was a series of ridiculous and embarrassing events, I was more annoyed that she was right. Might as well tell her the big news.

“Well, you’ll love this one…”

A smile creeped over her face. “Oh?”

“I may have accidentally sent my own mother some extremely compromising photos of me in a dirty diaper yesterday.”

“No…”

I sighed again. “Yep.”

“Jesus, Clarky. How the hell did that happen?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It always is.”

“Actually, falling into a big pit sounds pretty good right now. Do you know where I could find one?”

“What did she say?” she asked. Before I could answer, she had a few more questions to fire off: “What did you say? How the hell do you even explain that? I mean, did she know the photos are of you?”

“I…I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet. I’ve been avoiding her like the plague since it happened. I might try avoiding her for the rest of my life.”

“Very healthy, Clark. And, uhm, honest question here for you–because you’re my friend…have you ever considered a therapist? Like someone unbiased person to talk to about everything going on? It might not be all that bad of an idea.”

“Y-you think I need therapy?”

“I think you need someone to talk to,” she said. “Preferably before your head explodes.”

She wasn’t wrong. I slipped that idea into a mental pocket for later.

“Thank you, Lyndie.” I hoped it had come off as sincerely as I wanted it to.

It was at about that moment that the phone on Lyndie’s desk began to ring. For a moment, some of Lyndie’s own visible stress looked like it was fading a little.

“Ah, okay,” she said. “This is probably Thomas now. He’s going to tell me that he’s running late and…”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting the look of panic on her face when she looked at the caller ID on the phone.

“It’s Ms. Heller.” She picked up the phone: “Good morning.”

I didn’t know what the call was about, but it seemed troubling that Mommy seemed to be doing most of the talking. She was explaining something to Lyndie, it seemed. And the longer the call went on, the more distressed Lyndie’s face seemed to look.

“Right,” Lyndie said, responding to something. And that was what most of her side of the conversation was like–one or two-word reactions. “Yes.” “I see.” “I understand.” “Okay.”

Finally: “Thank you, Ms. Heller. I’ll see you shortly.”

“What was that about?” I asked as she hung up the phone.

“Well…maybe I had reason to be nervous.”

I felt my heart beating quickly in my chest. What now? “Why? Did something happen?”

“Something is happening right now,” she said. “It’s Thomas.”

“Oh.”

“Look,” she said to me. “Maybe you just hang back. I don’t want you to get in trouble too.”

“Trouble? What sort of trouble?”

But Lyndie didn’t answer me. She instead rushed around the desk and to the door of the nursery, flinging it open and rushing back out into the office. I was tempted to hang back for a minute, thinking that maybe it just wasn’t my business. Alas, my curiosity was too strong. I left the nursery myself, closing the door behind me.

Perhaps that’s how I knew that whatever was happening was a big deal–Lyndie was the most careful when it came to the nursery, and yet she had just left the door wide open as she jogged away.

As I walked back towards Ms. Heller’s office–the same direction that Lyndie had gone–I couldn’t help but notice the slowly building clamor around me. Other employees were whispering to each other. Some were getting up from their desks and heading in the same direction that I was. Some were laughing and giggling. Some looked shocked–even upset.

Were they laughing at me? Talking about me?

No, that didn’t seem right. Nobody seemed to care about me. It was something else. Someone else.

Aw jeez, Thomas. What did you do?

I heard it before I saw it–the sound of many people trying to talk at once. The sound of people trying to talk someone down. I had never really thought about how infantile the sound of placating was, even for adults, but hearing those voices now, my first thought was of a bunch of mothers trying to convince a child not to do something bad.

“Come on, Thomas. Why don’t you just come with me and we can talk about this.”

“Thomas, please. Let’s not make a scene.”

“Hey, Thomas. What are you doing, buddy.”

Finally seeing the scene, it looked so surreal that I couldn’t even comprehend it. I was reminded of those cosmic horror stories where the big scary monster was so beyond human understanding that to just look at it would drive a man insane.

What the fuck is happening here?

A small crowd was growing in front of Ms. Heller’s office. Mommy was near the center of the crowd. As was Nancy Tamberlin from HR. And Lyndie. And they were trying to talk to Thomas, who–inexplicably–seemed to have his pants pulled down to his knees, exposing a giant white disposable diaper to anyone who cared to look.

“I…I just want the same thing as everyone else,” Thomas said to someone. It was hard to know if he was addressing the entire crowd, or someone in particular. “I want to be a baby too.”

“Thomas,” Lyndie said, reaching out towards him. “We, uhm, can help you. But we should probably not be out here for this conversation.”

A foul–but familiar–scent seemed to waft through the crowd, striking me in the nose like a punch. It was an undoubtedly messy diaper–and for once, it wasn’t mine.

Was it…his?

Everyone else seemed just as unsure of how to read this situation as I was. Some folks were trying to stifle laughter as they muttered little things to each other. But there were plenty of people who just looked concerned and worried for Thomas, as if they were watching a man who had just gone insane.

“Sh-should we call the police?” someone near me muttered.

“I think, uhm, management has this under control,” I said. I hoped that was true.

“That’s enough,” Mommy said to Thomas. “Come with me now. We need to have a little chat. Now.”

They filed into her office one-by-one. Mommy, Thomas, Lyndie, and finally Ms. Tamberlin. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving only a crowd of confused office workers and the lingering scent of filthy diapers.

“Alright,” someone said to everyone. I didn’t know her by name, but I had seen her around. Some sort of mid-tier manager or supervisor. “Let’s get back to our desks. Whatever is going on here, the management team will sort it out.”

Part of me wanted to go into Mommy’s office too. I was, afterall, her assistant. Then I remembered what Lyndie had said to me–about not wanting me to get in trouble too. Maybe it’d be better to hang back a bit. At least until I knew more.

Ava was suddenly at my side, seeming to have emerged from the dispersing crowd that had just watched Thomas’s antics. She looked as concerned as I felt. She reached for my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. It seemed to say a lot of things. Hello. Also: Well, that wasn’t good at all.

“Did you see what happened?” I asked.

She nodded.

“And…what was that about?”

“Well…” But she quickly trailed off and began looking around her suspiciously at our co-workers as they strolled past us.

I started looking around myself, realizing what Ava was seeing. It seemed like everyone–well, enough of the employees–were staring at us. Giving us curious glances. Some whispered and muttered to each other, while others giggled and chuckled as they looked in our direction.

Ava sighed. “I…I think he just exposed us to everyone.”

 

 

Sixty-Five

You could almost see the gossip spread across the office like a wildfire consuming a forest. Small groups of huddled bodies collected, each of them murmuring and whispering. I could only imagine what they were saying to each other. Speculating, no doubt. They were comparing notes. Everyone probably had their own version of what they saw.

These were the events that lead up to Thomas Pritchard’s diaper being exposed to his co-workers, as best as I could piece together from gossip and eye-witnesses:

Thomas Pritchard had shown up to work that morning, dressed like a normal adult. There were some who insisted that he was ‘obviously’ wearing a diaper under his pants–though the reasons this was ‘obvious’ seemed to differ from person to person. Some said it was the obvious bulge in his pants. Some said the back of the thick diaper was sticking out of his pants for anyone to see. I heard one story, second-hand, that suggested that his diaper seemed ‘purposefully’ on display, as if he wanted someone to challenge him about it.

And that was what happened, apparently. He was challenged.

Again, the truth gets a little murky when everyone seems to have a different version of the story. Everyone can seem to agree that it started because somebody had an issue with Thomas that morning. Depending on the version of the story you heard, he might have been loudly rubbing his diaper through his pants, sucking his thumb at his desk, or even squatting down next to his chair to make a deposit into his pants. Someone–perhaps even many someones–were distressed enough about this that they went to management or HR. Or, maybe, they went to management who, in turn, went to HR.

Considering how many close calls I’ve had in the office, I was curious to know how obvious Thomas was being if that is when people finally reached out to HR.

That’s when Nancy Tamberlin stepped in, everyone can agree on that. And most would agree that she was the best person to handle the situation too, seeing as how she was the director of HR. Of course, nobody else would know that she was also qualified to handle this situation due to her involvement in the ‘bizarre interoffice diaper-cult.’

Ms. Tamberlin tried to steer Thomas away from people. She just about begged him to follow her to her office so that they could discuss the situation. He seemed uninterested. Again, most folks seem to agree on that.

She said something to Thomas that set him off. Maybe she whispered it to him, or maybe nobody was close enough to have heard what it was. But he seemed upset. Offended even.

“I don’t care!” Everybody who was there heard him say that.

She tried reasoning with him again.

“I just want to be one of them,” he said to her. “How do I get treated like that too?”

At that point, he decided that he needed to speak to Gabrielle Heller. Or so he said. Because she would straighten this out. She would fix whatever wrong he felt he was experiencing.

This is where the story gets a little fuzzy again. Somewhere between Thomas’s desk and the area in front of Ms. Heller’s office door, Thomas’s pants seemed to have been pulled down to reveal his diaper. There are some versions of the story in which Ms. Tamberlin had tried to pull his pants up, because his diaper was already showing and she thought she was helping–only for Thomas to move in such a way that she accidentally ended up pulling them down. Other versions state that he, himself, pulled his pants down. As one version of the story went: “He had this look in his eyes, like he was absolutely determined to get whatever it was he wanted.”

That latter story made sense to me. It was kind of relatable. Because while I had never talked to Thomas Pritchard about diapers–about much of anything, really–I knew the feeling of wanting those strange pleasures so badly that you could lose control of yourself. Whatever Lyndie had done with him in the nursery, it had unlocked something that he needed more of.

Or so I’d assume. It was the only explanation that made sense to me.

For a while, Ava and I tried to blend in with the masses. We listened to the stories and tried to act as shocked as everyone else was. Which wasn’t all that hard to do–Thomas’s actions were still pretty crazy to us too. But we could still feel skeptical eyes on us. Maybe because of our connection to Lyndie and the executives who were currently talking to Thomas. Or, perhaps, there was an underground world of gossip and speculation about the strange things that happened behind closed doors in our office building–and Thomas’s meltdown served only to bring those conversations to the surface.

Nobody was saying anything rude to us. Nobody was excluding us from the conversations. But there was this unspoken tension between us and everyone else that was a little uncomfortable.

“Should we get out of here?” Ava asked.

“Where?”

“Follow me.”

If I was of a slightly more level head, I probably would have guessed the destination. But it wasn’t until I saw the name placard by the closed office door that I realized where Ava had led me. It was Ms. Beaufort’s office.

“Have you, uhm, heard about what happened?” Ava asked as we walked in, closing the door behind us.

“I have,” Ms. Beaufort said, maintaining a calm and composed disposition. “A shame I didn’t see it for myself, though.”

“I assume this has never happened before?” I asked.

She shook her head and offered a comforting smile. “No…it hasn’t. I imagine we wouldn’t be talking right now if it had.”

“So…do you think this is the end?” asked Ava, stealing the question from me.

Ms. Beaufort shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that, sweetie. But it’s probably going to shake some things up, at the very least.”

“What was he thinking?” I muttered. But even as the words came from my mouth, I knew that it wasn’t just Thomas’s fault. I felt like we were actually children again–having played a game that got a little too out of hand, and now the adults had to step in and take control.

“What are we supposed to do?” Ava asked Ms. Beaufort. “Go back to our desks and work?”

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” Ms. Beaufort responded.

I did wonder if we were further incriminating ourselves in the eyes of our peers by hiding out in an office. But even if that were true, I still thought I preferred that over the curious glares of strangers walking past my desk.

“I’m worried that Lyndie is going to get in trouble,” I said.

Ms. Beaufort offered a curious raise of her eyebrow. “How would this come back on Lyndie?”

Ava was looking at me too, also seeking an answer. It occurred to me that while Ava knew some of the story, she probably didn’t know nearly as much as I did.

“She was talking to Thomas,” I said. “Offering him, uhm, similar treatment to what we get in exchange for him not blabbing to the board.”

“Ah,” she chuckled. “I see.”

“No offense,” Ava said, though it wasn’t clear which of us she didn’t mean to offend. “But…I think this is exactly why I’m leaving. I like, you know, being treated the way that I’m treated. But, the rest is such a mess.”

“That’s fair,” Ms. Beaufort sighed. “I think we–all of us–didn’t realize how big this little game had become. And the bigger it gets, the harder it is to control.”

“I guess this was inevitable,” I mumbled, not fully realizing that I was saying the words out loud.

“Hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?” Ms. Beaufort asked. “And speaking of looking at hinds–Ava, how’s your diaper holding up, sweetpea?”

Ava’s cheeks blushed as shot me a look to assess whether or not I was smiling at her mommy’s question. “I mean, uhm…it’s not completely dry.”

“Come here,” she beckoned from the other side of her desk. “I’d like to check for myself.”

It was a scene I had witnessed a thousand times. Except, usually, I was the one getting my diaper checked. In a lot of ways, it looked identical to how it’d play out when Mommy checked my diaper–Ms. Beaufort pulled the back of Ava’s pants and diaper open so she could look in. Her hand felt the weight of the diaper between Ava’s legs. She even brought her nose a little closer to Ava’s bottom to give a little sniff. It was probably something that Ava had experienced a thousand times herself–but it was embarrassing today because I was there to see it.

“Wet,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Wet enough that we should probably do something about it.”

Ava’s eyes slowly glanced in my direction. “I…don’t need to be changed now do I?”

“I worry that waiting any longer just gives you more time to have another accident, sweetie. And I don’t think this diaper is going to hold another accident.”

“F-fine…”

“Are you nervous because Clark is here?” Ms. Beaufort asked, glancing in my direction.

Ava offered a stubborn shrug. It was the most childish I think she had ever looked to me. I could certainly relate to the hesitation. Despite the fact that Ava and I had seen far more of each other’s bodies that anyone knew, I’d still be blushing if Mommy wanted to change my diaper in front of Ava.

“Maybe.”

“Well, we should make it fair, then. Clark? Come here. Let me check your diaper too.”

I was wet, I knew that. I had been a little wet when Mommy checked me earlier, and I had deposited a little extra wetness into my padding somewhere between then and now. And so it was my turn to blush. Again, I was no stranger to diaper checks–but having Ms. Beaufort be the one to check was certainly new to me.

“Also wet,” she mused, her hands carefully squeezing and pulling at my pants as she investigated. “Wet enough, I think, that I might as well take care of both of you babies at once. Your mommy will be happy I did.”

Was that a slight smirk I saw on Ava’s face?

“This’ll be fun,” Ms. Beaufort continued. “Let’s move these chairs out of the way. The two of you can park your soggy cabooses right here on the floor next to each other.”

Ava and I did as we were told, exchanging a few humiliated glances as we plopped ourselves down on the floor, a small chorus of crinkles emanating from our padded bottoms.

“Those are some good babies,” Ms. Beaufort cooed as she opened up a desk drawer, pulling out the all-too-familiar diaper changing supplies–including fresh diapers. Fresh pink diapers.

I was reminded of the day I was officially made Mommy’s little baby–the day she first put the chastity cage on my cock. She had sent Ava and I off to get our diapers changed with Ava, which brought us to Ms. Beaufort’s office. I had to settle for a pink diaper that day too–as it was all that Ms. Beaufort kept on hand.

If Megan were here, she'd almost certainly approve of me being in pink diapers.

To Ms. Beaufort’s credit, she didn’t acknowledge the color.

“Auntie?” asked Ms. Beaufort as she began pulling down my pants.. “I kind of like the sound of that. I’m Ava’s Mommy, but your Auntie. Call me ‘Auntie,’ Clark. I’d like to hear how that sounds.”

“Uhm…Auntie…”

“No no,” she chuckled. “Don’t just say the word. Use it like you’re actually talking to me.”

“Okay, how about…” I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say, and so I just opened my mouth and spit out whatever half-developed thought I had: “Th-thank you for changing my diaper, Auntie.”

“Oh, wow,” Ms. Beaufort said with an approving nod. “I am rather fond of that.”

I found myself thinking about what kind of mommy Ms. Beaufort might be as I felt her pulling my pants down my legs. Whereas my Mommy did have a more maternal side to her, she often seemed more interested in teasing and embarrassing me. And while Ava had made mention of feeling humiliated in the presence of Ms. Beaufort, I wasn’t sure that she had ever said that Ms. Beaufort was actively trying to humiliate her. That sweet smile and warm expression? It was hard to believe that she was anything other than the most kind and nurturing woman.

I wondered how she took the news that Ava was leaving the company. Because, assumedly, it also meant the end of their relationship. Would either be the same after that?

“Hrm,” Ms. Beaufort hummed, squeezing the bottom of my diaper before untaping it. “It’s a good thing we’re doing this, Clark. This is even wetter than I thought it was.”

I felt my entire face warm as I nodded. From my periphery, I could feel Ava’s face pivoting to face me. She was watching my expression. And smiling.

Somewhere out there, on the other side of Ms. Beaufort’s office door, people were still talking about the Thomas Pritchard incident. They were further proliferating stories, chock full of assumptions and third-hand knowledge. Were they talking about us? What did they know about us? What did they think they knew about us?

Meanwhile, only a few feet from where employees might be converging and gossiping, Ava and I were laying on the floor, our diapers getting changed. A process that was so normal for us that I realized that I was barely even thinking about it as I felt my legs being lifted into the air so that I could be thoroughly wiped.

“Ava, dear,” Ms. Beaufort cooed. Her voice was incredibly beautiful when she cooed, too–that accent just made it sound like a song. “What’s wrong? You look pale. Distressed.”

“I…I just can’t stop thinking about Lyndie. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Or…any of us.”

“Ah. It’s been a stressful day, hasn’t it?”

Ava offered a very slight nod.

“I think I know what would make you feel better though…”

I was quite sure that I saw Ava’s eyes lighting up. “R-really? Now?”

“Would it help?”

“M-maybe,” Ava said. “But…”

Ms. Beaufort was pulling the front of the fresh diaper through Ava’s legs. “Yes?”

“W-well…maybe Clark needs some too?”

Ms. Beaufort laughed as her head turned to me. “Are you feeling a little distressed, Clark? Ava likes to suckle when she’s feeling upset. But there’s plenty of room for you as well–if you’d like to partake.”

I had found myself daydreaming of the taste of her breastmilk since I had tasted it on the day I had been passed around the room, spanked, and put into chastity. I often wondered if I’d ever get to try it again.

“W-would that be okay?” I asked. I felt my cheeks warming again.

“Of course,” she smiled.

She put the finishing touches on each of our diapers, pulling them closed and taping them up. It wasn’t until she was done that I caught the faint scent of baby powder in the air. It never failed to make me feel a little embarrassed. And small–it always made me feel very small.

Again, I wondered: If we always smell like babies…people have to know, right?

Maybe that’s what they were talking about out there.

Ms. Beaufort sat down on the floor herself, slowly unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it open. Her full breasts hung in front of her–barely held in place by her bra. I felt my mouth watering as I stared at them.

“You look hungry, Clark,” Ms. Beaufort teased.

My face felt hot as I struggled to speak. “Oh, well…uhm…I just…”

“I remember feeling like that once,” Ava chuckled. “Do you remember? I used to giggle like a little girl every time you opened your shirt.”

“This process does seem to go a little quicker now that I don’t need to wait for you to compose yourself every time,” Ms. Beaufort nodded as she pulled down the silky panels of the front of her bra to expose her nipples. “Come here. Why don’t you get started on the right while we wait for Clark here to pull himself together. He can have the left nipple.”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation for Ava, as she practically dove right in.

I felt awkward. I wanted to stare, but it felt rude to, so I found myself looking in random directions. Was I supposed to just…jump in and start sucking? Nobody ever teaches you the social protocol for a situation like this.

“It’s okay,” she cooed to me. “Come here, Clark. I won’t bite. And if you bite…well, that’s okay too. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”

I looked towards the door, imagining it suddenly opening so that the three of us were exposed. Suddenly, I felt incredibly paranoid about being caught. A strange thing, really, as I had probably been in countless situations over the last few weeks where I was at risk of exposing myself to the wrong people. I had always been nervous about it, but I trusted people like Mommy and Ms. Beaufort to protect us. But Thomas had to go and blow everything up. Whatever slight sense of safety I had before was gone.

“The door is locked,” she said to me. “I promise, we’re safe here. We can worry about everything else later. For now, come closer and have a taste. I promise you that it’ll make you feel better.”

Ava certainly seemed to be doing better. All I could hear from her was a constant stream of wet suckling, occasionally accented by the sound of her little moans. That seemed to be all the argument I needed–if Ava could take this moment to distract herself, then I could too.

I crawled towards Ms. Beaufort, slowly bringing my head towards her available nipple. The closer I got to it, the more I felt I was overthinking it. I don’t remember how to suckle. What if I hurt her? What if I make a mess? Am I just supposed to…put my face in her chest? But Ms. Beaufort, seemingly sensing my hesitation, gently placed her hand at the side of my head, her fingers wrapping around the back of it. She helped guide me to her nipple, and once I was there, I just opened my mouth and hoped that my body would just know what to do.

It did. My lips took her nipple into my mouth, and I just seemed to know exactly what to do. I was suckling. Drinking. I felt the warm milk drain into my mouth, and I swallowed.

The world around me faded away. Thomas didn’t exist in this world anymore. Neither did any of the mayhem he had created. I was just a stupid little baby again, and I had no purpose for anything beyond sucking on this tit. I was small. I was an infant. My limbs felt weak and useless. If it wasn’t for Ms. Beaufort’s hand–still on the side of my head and pressing my face into her chest–I could imagine myself just rolling away from her body and collapsing on the floor until someone came to pick me up again.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Ms. Beaufort cooed, though I wasn’t sure who she was talking to. “I just put you in this diaper.”

Was that me? Had I just used my diaper? No, I didn’t think so.

Ava offered an apologetic moan as she continued feeding, seeming to confirm that she was the guilty party.

We were all clustered together there on the floor. Ava and I’s hands reached towards each other–partially because we wanted to be as close as we could be in this moment, and partially because we needed each other’s help in sitting up.

I wasn’t sure how we decided we were done. Maybe when we were…full. Our bellies, or just our emotional needs. But we both broke free from Ms. Beaufort’s chest at about the same time, each of us snuggling into her lap.

Somewhere between being breastfed and forming a little cuddle pile with Ava and Ms. Beaufort, I lost all concept of time. We had either been wrapped around each other for a few minutes or a few years. And despite how intimidating and mysterious the world outside of the office would feel later, I at least felt safe for the moment.

And then the phone rang, seeming to awaken all three of us from whatever blissful shared dream we were in.

“I’d normally let that go to voicemail,” Ms. Beaufort shrugged. “But…it might be important.”

We knew what ‘important’ meant: It might be about today. And what happens after today.

“Are you okay?” I asked Ava as Ms. Beaufort stood up and went to her desk.

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. You?”

“I might just live.”

“Do you think Lyndie’s alright?” she asked.

“If anyone is alright, it’s Lyndie. She knows how to take care of herself.”

In the background, we could hear Ms. Beaufort talking on the phone, though we weren’t paying much mind to the conversation.

“Clark, I…” Either she didn’t actually know what she wanted to say, or she just chose not to say it. Not that I could blame her either way–my mind was also a complete mess.

We both noticed at the same time that Ms. Beaufort was hanging up her phone. Our eyes shot towards her, anxiously awaiting for any sort of update. But whatever it was, it seemed hard for her to say aloud. She bit her bottom lip and sighed, shaking her head.

“Wh-what is it?” Ava asked.

“It might be best if we send Clark back to Gabby’s office. She…says she has some things to talk to him about.”

I opened my mouth, ready to ask for her to elaborate–but I realized that whatever the news was, it was probably better heard from Mommy herself. Instead I nodded.

“I guess I’ll head over,” I said. “I’ll see you later?” I didn’t necessarily mean for it to be poised as a question–but my nervousness took over by the end, filling me with the fear that whatever I was about to learn would mean that I wouldn’t see these two again.

“Of course,” Ava said. “Good luck.”

It felt like the longest walk I had ever taken within the building. Ms. Beaufort’s office wasn’t even that far from Mommy’s. But every single step felt like it had to be perfectly timed and coordinated. I felt like I was overthinking every move my body made. Are people looking at me? Studying my pants?

I couldn’t tell. I didn’t think anyone was watching me all that closely, but I was pretty sure that I’d feel eyes on me for the rest of time working in this office. Hell, maybe all those eyes had been on me all along and I just hadn’t noticed before.

I felt my diaper growing wet as I walked. Yep, I was wetting myself again. That’s new. Fear induced pissing? That was a fantastic new development in the ever-growing list of things I had to worry about.

I stood in front of Mommy’s office door for a minute. Two, maybe. I just wanted to compose myself before I went in. I didn’t know what to expect, but I figured that this probably wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

I knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came her voice from the other side of the door. It sounded…normal?

Maybe it won’t be so bad, I thought as I opened the door.

But, then again, I was a baby. And babies aren’t known for their wisdom.

[Babypants]

Nice cliffhanger, and nothing like a crisis at the office to make Clark forget about his mother for a while.  In the real world, of course, unhappy employees, overworked and at least in their own minds unappreciated, would by day's end be considering their legal options.  Suits for discrimination would assuredly follow, and the resulting publicity would lead to a house cleaning at the board level.  So, assuming that you don't have so grim a finish in mind, I can't wait to see how Ms. Heller somehow saves the day.   

[zzzz50]

I suspect that we will see one of the famous internal memo’s stating that an employee had a mental crisis in the office and is receiving treatment. And please respect his privacy.

This story actually brings out the diapers to friends and family. So many stories tend to paint the characters as having no contact with their previous life or family. I think we are all waiting on the edge of our seats to see how Clark explains all of this to his Mom. Thanks QuitelyHumiliated for continuing this story!

[D503]

Wow, great tension. I'm sure the office suspects something but Thomas could also be a good distraction depending on how widespread the diaper rumours are. Yang is interesting, shaping up as a possible villain. 

I'm waiting for Clarke's mum to doorstop him at home or work but I hope we get a nice understanding with Ms Heller and Lyndie and possibly she find she enjoys babysitting like Lyndie.

[quietlyhumiliated]

There's been some very upsetting stories coming out today as Patreon suddenly wiped out a number of ABDL content creator's sites. I'm thankful that my Patreon remains standing (for now), though who knows what the future holds. I'm working on some alternate options for platforms to host my stories, but in the meantime, Patreon is still here.

Anyhoo, this is the season finale for this part of Doing Business. Next week, I'll begin posting chapters from Doing Business: Memorandums II. Then, after that, we'll jump into Season 4.

Thank you so much for continuing to read, like, and comment on this story. And an extra special thanks to anyone who helps support my writing on Patreon.

 

 

Sixty-Six

“Ah, Clark,” Mommy said as she sat behind her desk. “Come in. Close the door behind you.”

She was smiling. She sounded…calm. I had to do a double-take, wondering if I had lost my mind at some point during the day. There had been some catastrophic breach in the secret world of the office-babies, right? Or had I entirely misjudged the situation?

“Is…everything okay?” I asked as I closed the door.

“That’s a tricky question, Clarky.”

I sighed at that answer, feeling incapable of even attempting to unravel that mystery at the moment.

“Thomas Pritchard?” I asked, as if just the name was enough to convey the real questions I was trying to ask. What happened? Where is he now? What’s next?

She shrugged. “He was a dolt, wasn’t he? Exactly the type we’d have never hired as an assistant. There’s just nothing genuine about him.”

“W-was? Is he…gone?”

“Oh, he’s gone,” she nodded.

“But what about…”

“Do you remember Desiree Watkins, from our legal team? She was in my office a few days ago? Well, she just about buried the poor boy under NDAs and other contractual mumbo-jumbo. I’m not going to pretend to know what it was all about, but as she described it to me: He’ll think twice before even farting in the general direction of the company’s headquarters. So yes, he’s gone. He’s lucky we didn’t call the authorities. And, well, we’ll see how far beyond these walls the rumors of him filling his diapers can go.”

As curious as I was about Thomas’s fate, there were many other things I wanted to know more.

“Lyndie?” I asked.

She took in a long breath and nodded slowly. “She’s been rather busy around the office as of late, hasn’t she?”

“Y-yes,” I said, assuming she was talking about her conversations with Thomas.

“Do you know Bradley? Ms. Tamberlin’s assistant?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what he said to Ms. Tamberlin this morning? Mind you, this was before the day got even more exciting.”

Gulp. “I do not.”

“He said that he didn’t want to be her baby anymore.”

I sighed. “Oh…”

“I bet you can guess who he said he wanted his new mommy to be?”

“Lyndie?”

Mommy nodded. “Nancy didn’t take the news all that well. Though, between you and me, I’ve been telling her to be more engaged for the last few weeks. I could just see it happening, you know? That little boy needs to be coddled and to have his hand held. Nancy was never really that sort of…mother. For lack of a better word.”

“Boss?”

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose she was just his boss at the end of the day.”

“So…she was pretty mad about Lyndie?”

Mommy nodded again. “Quite. ‘Who does this little girl think she is, anyway?’ That sort of thing. I had to talk her down. She wanted to demote Lyndie to being a baby. She wanted her to wear diapers too.”

“I don’t think she would’ve gone for that,” I said.

Mommy shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t have. But, needless to say, we never got that deep into the conversation.”

“So…where is she now?” I asked.

“She’s okay, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I wasn’t sure what ‘okay’ meant. I didn’t think she was at risk for bodily harm or death, and I assumed ‘okay’ encompassed those things. But did she still have a job? Had she gotten in trouble?

“But, is she…”

“Come here, baby,” she said to me, beckoning for me to walk around her desk and to approach her. I did so immediately. My feet were moving without me even thinking about it.

She stood as I approached her, and once I was in front of her, she slowly stroked my cheek with her hand.

“You’re a sweet boy, Clark.”

“Th-thank you?”

“Quite possibly the sweetest. Oh, sure, you can be naughty from time to time. But your heart is always in the right place.”

My diaper?

“You’re my favorite,” she said, leaning in to kiss me on the forehead.

“Favorite?” Favorite what?, I wondered. Baby? Assistant? Human being, in general?

“There are days that I just want to…take you home with me. I’d keep you as a pet. Wouldn’t that be nice? Living out your days in luxury? No job and no responsibilities? Just you and your diapers? And Mommy, of course, taking care of said diapers?”

“It, uhm, does sound nice, yeah,” I said, a smile cracking through my worried facade. “But what does that have to do with…”

Her hands were on my belt buckle, and she quickly unfastened my pants so that she could open them up and let them fall to the ground. My pink diaper–courtesy of Ms. Beaufort–was on display for her, and my cheeks were quick to match that color.

“Ah, looks like someone must’ve been spending some time with Neve today?”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah. After the Thomas stuff happened, Ava and I went to her office for a little bit.”

“It was nice of her to change you. Did you give her a good mess to clean up?”

“N-no…I was just wet.”

“Aw, a shame,” she laughed. “Hopefully she made sure that you didn’t leave with an empty belly?”

I felt like I could still see Ms. Beaufort’s thick nipples in front of my face. I could taste her milk on my tongue.

I nodded.

“She’s a wonderful babysitter.”

“Auntie,” I said. “Th-that’s what she asked me to call her today.”

“Did she now? That’s cute. I wish I had thought of that myself, honestly.”

Her hand slid between my legs, feeling and squeezing at the padding. I knew it was wet, though I wasn’t entirely sure just how wet it was. There were some days where it just felt like my diaper was heavy all of the time–and those days were getting more frequent.

“How long ago did she put you in this diaper?” she asked.

“Oh…not that long ago.”

“And you’ve wet it this much already?”

I shrugged.

“You’re my favorite,” she said again. “You’re the best baby a Mommy like me could’ve ever asked for.”

It was then that I noticed something strange. It seemed subtle and small, but only because I had always taken it for granted: Her computer monitors were off. Completely off and black. I was quite sure that I had only ever seen them on in the past–their glow always illuminating Mommy’s face when she talked to me across her desk. But now there was no glow, and it felt ominous.

“So…what now?” I asked, her hand still between my legs. “Do we, uh, just go back to work?”

“Some of us will,” she said, nodding.

I felt my heart sink in my chest. “Not all of us?”

“Do you want to come here? Sit on my lap?”

Yes. I wanted that very much. I stepped forward, stepping out of my pants completely, as she sat down in her office chair. I turned myself around so that my back was facing her and I eased myself into her lap–the moist diaper squishing and crumpling between us.

It was a simple pleasure–sitting on her legs like this–but one that I hadn’t experienced very often. Part of me wondered if I should’ve done that more–especially as it suddenly felt like this would be one of my last chances to do it.

“Some changes had to be made,” Mommy said, her voice quiet and seemingly whispered into my ear. “And I don’t mean diaper changes.”

“Wh-what sort of changes?”

“Well, someone needed to be held accountable for today’s little…debacle. And Lyndie was very open and honest about her involvement.”

“But…she was trying to help. She was trying to help everyone.”

“I know this. And you know this. But she stepped on a lot of toes when she took it upon herself to deal with Thomas. The board wasn’t happy about that.”

“But…”

“Nancy–Ms. Tamberlin–she wasn’t too pleased with Lyndie either. Bad timing, really–that whole thing with Bradley. I wonder if they could’ve worked it out if Thomas hadn’t caused a big scene.”

“So…what happened to Lyndie?”

“She was made to be the scapegoat. They terminated her.”

“But…Mommy. That’s bullshit.” I shook my head, a feeling of rage building inside me. I wanted to say something else, but all I could do was repeat myself: “She was trying to help.”

“I know this,” Mommy sighed. “And I defended her.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said. “Sh-she’s gone?”

“She is. But…there’s something else, too, Clarky. I need you to pay attention. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.” My heart pounded in my chest. What else was there?

“I told them–the board–that if they were adamant about letting Lyndie go, then I’d be tendering my own resignation.”

I looked back at her computer monitors, devoid of any life. Tears began to well in my eyes. “What did they say?”

“They made their decision. And so I made my own.”

“N-no. Mommy…are you…leaving?”

“I know this is hard for you to hear. I’m sure this feels like everything you know is being upended. But I can assure you, Baby, this is a good thing. I’ve been ready for something new and different for a while now.”

“B-but…”

“Effective now, I’m no longer the CEO. They’ll likely be by soon to escort me out. They tend to not like people in positions like mine sticking around for too long after we’re released from the corporate teat. They already shut me out of our systems and network. The board will be putting out a statement later today announcing my departure. It’ll be framed as a mutual decision–which I suppose is true.”

“But…Mommy. What about…Ms. Beaufort. And Ava. And Bradley. And Megan. And…”

“...you?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Baby. You may be a helpless little toddler most of the time, but you’re also still an adult.”

I sighed, wiping a tear away as it rolled down my cheek. “Y-yeah…”

“This may be a lot to ask of you, but I’ll put it out there anyway.”

My ears perked up a little. “Hm?”

Her hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to her. It felt good to be held so close. I wanted her to completely envelop me. I wanted her to absorb me.

“You could leave too. Come with me. Wherever I go next, I'll bring you along.”

That was an awful lot to process at once, though it did sound nice. Especially because I wasn’t sure that I wanted to work there if both she and Lyndie weren’t going to be around. Not to mention the inevitable departure of Ava.

But I was never very good at decisions like this. I felt myself frozen in place–petrified on her lap like a diapered gargoyle. I needed Mommy to tell me what to do. I didn’t even care what she offered–I just needed her to make the decision for me.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Clark,” she said to me after a few moments of silence.

“I…I don’t know what to do. What would you do, Mommy? If you were me?”

“Oh, I’m not sure you want that answer,” she chuckled.

“I do,” I said. “Please.”

“If I were you? I’d go back to my apartment and I’d pack up everything I own. And I’d go and move in with my Mommy. Because, see, she would have all this free time, and she’d need her baby around to keep her company.”

“Oh…”

“It’s a rather selfish plan. I can admit that,” she shrugged.

I bit my lip as I thought about it. It only seemed like a bad idea because it was so impulsive. It was the sort of thing I would never do. Or, at least, it was the sort of thing I never imagined myself doing. But hadn’t my life over the last few months been full of decisions I wouldn’t have usually made? The things I did with Mommy? The things I did in Seattle? Or with Megan?

And…I needed to be Mommy’s baby. I couldn’t imagine life without that relationship now. Without her–without my diapers–who even was I?

Who am I? A question I had asked myself a lot recently. And this had been the answer the whole time: I was a baby. I was Mommy’s baby.

“I’d do it,” I said to her.

“Wait…really?” she asked, sounding incredibly shocked.

“You were being serious, right?”

There was a momentary pause between me speaking and her response–just a second, if that. An eternity, during which I worried that she’d reveal that she had only been kidding. And then she laughed. “I thought I was asking too much of you. But…yes. This is a real offer, Baby.”

“I want that,” I said softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Extremely sure. And I…I’m going to leave the company too,” I said with a defiant nod.

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“If you’re not going to be here, then I don’t want to be here either.”

“Only if that’s what you truly want, Clarky.”

“It is.”

“Ah, well then living with me will make even more sense then. I’ll be sure to take care of your every need.”

It was all quite easy to say at the moment, but I could already feel the new buds of stress that were blooming in my subconscious. The details. The logistics. The act of having to quit this job. The conversation with Evan about when and why I’d be moving out. The entire process of relocating to Mommy’s house to live with her.

The…increasingly uncomfortable conversation I owed my actual mother. Hell, if anything had convinced me that moving in with Mommy was the right thing to do, it was probably my blunder with my actual mother. I didn’t trust myself anymore. I needed help. I needed Mommy more than I ever had before.

“What now?” I asked.

“I was going to gather a few things from my office to take with me. But…I was already advised that they’d be packing up my personal belongings and sending them to me later. I probably could’ve been gone already, save for the fact that I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Uhm…what about all the, uh, baby things?”

“Perhaps that cat is out of the bag already?” she shrugged. “There’ll be rumors, if nothing else. But thankfully I had already moved most of the baby supplies out of my office and into the nursery.”

“Oh,” I said, my mouth dropping open at the thought of Lyndie’s nursery. “What about that?”

“Neve will likely be dismantling it. I suspect it’ll be a normal looking office again in a day or two. Albeit, a strange smelling office.”

On one hand, I felt very uncertain and terrified of whatever was going to happen next. What we were proposing was a complete change to everything I knew. My job. My apartment. Perhaps even my social circle.

But on the other, it also felt like the only option. Or, perhaps, I just wanted it to be the only option. Lyndie was gone. Mommy was leaving. Ava would be gone soon too. Everything was changing no matter what I wanted. And here was Mommy, with an outstretched hand, offering to lead me to a future that–while unknown–at least included her.

“I’m ready to go,” she said. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Of course, Mommy,” I nodded. I wondered if I needed to tell someone that I wasn’t coming back, but that also felt like something I could do later. Maybe I’d email. Or call. Or…well, they’d eventually figure out I wasn’t returning if I just stopped showing up. At that moment, I certainly wasn’t thinking about the ramifications of burning bridges.

“I’m imagining picking you up and carrying you like a baby out of the building,” she said. “What an epic finale that would be, right?”

I laughed, feeling my cheeks warm again. If she had been serious, and if she had that sort of stamina, I could’ve seen myself agreeing to that.

“In slow motion,” I added. “As everything else behind us exploded for no apparent reason.”

“And all while you filled your diaper to the brim in the office one last time.”

“Well that I could probably do,” I said.

“I think the office might have had its share of exposure to dirty bottoms today,” Mommy shrugged. “But I could take you back to my place? Well…our place?”

My eyes lit up. I was practically salivating, and I even felt my shriveled cock throbbing in its cage. I nodded.

“Very good. If you happen to make a big mess of yourself before we get home, then that’ll just have to be the first thing I take care of when we get there.”

“You can count on that.”

I took one last look around her office, noticing that Mommy was doing the same thing. All things considered, I hadn’t actually known this place–this company as a whole–for all that long. But it still felt so important to me. This was the place where my diapers were sometimes changed. And often, it had been the place where everything changed.

Without another word, we were leaving her office. I followed her as she marched through our floor’s workspace. Her pace didn’t seem rushed, and her head seemed to be held high. She’d occasionally pause to talk to someone–usually people I didn’t know all that well. Supervisors and managers from departments I had just about no contact with. She had quickly developed a little spiel that I heard her repeat time and time again. The gist of it was: “Yes, I’ve made the decision to leave the company today. No, this does not reflect the health of the company overall–it just felt like the right time to move on. So sorry for the short notice. You have my contact information, yes? Let’s stay in touch.”

All eyes were on us, though it was hard to say what anyone was thinking. There was no doubt that some would draw a connection between the Thomas Pritchard incident and the departure of Gabrielle Heller, CEO. Were I still an intern, and had I never met her myself, I’d have probably thought the same thing.

Then again, if I hadn’t met her, would any of this be happening?

We walked past Ted Lemire’s desk. Oh, Ted Lemire–still seemingly oblivious to the world around him as he feverishly worked on the tasks he had been assigned. I wondered if he had any idea of what had happened earlier in the day.

We walked past the little room that Lyndie and I used to work from when we were just interns–The Closet. God, that felt like years ago. Mommy paused for a moment to shoot me a little smirk. I was pretty sure I could read her mind: “Remember that place? Remember when I changed your dirty diaper in front of Lyndie?”

Lyndie. I wondered how she was. I needed to give her a call or a text. Though, if I waited much longer, I’d probably never get to it–I could easily imagine the rest of the day being swallowed up by whatever Mommy and I did at her place.

Our place?

I quickly tapped out a message for Lyndie as I continued to follow Mommy to the elevator: “I hope you’re okay.” I quickly followed that up with: “We need to talk soon. We have a LOT to catch up on.” It still seemed like a bit of an understatement.

The elevator door opened and Mommy stepped inside. I wanted to follow, but I still found myself hesitating. I just needed to look around one more time–I’d probably never see this place again.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Ready, Mommy.”

Ten Months Later

I was having the most pleasant dream. It was fading quickly as the room’s natural light filled my vision, but I remember it involving cartoon farm animals. Fitting, I supposed, as all I had been watching as of late were children’s cartoons–many of them about animals.

There was a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. It could only be one person.

“M-Mommy?”

“I really hate waking you,” Mommy said. She was standing outside of my oversized crib, looking down at me. “But I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

“Oh…uhm…” I lazily scratched my head as I tried to sit up. “You have to go? Already?”

“Clarky, it’s almost 10 AM.”

“Oh.”

“Normally I wouldn’t mind that you’re a sleepy little baby. But you’re the one who asked me to make sure I said goodbye before I left for the airport.”

“Y-yeah, that’s right,” I said, propping myself up.

I could feel my diaper squishing under me and between my legs. Not an uncommon feeling in the morning these days, though one I still wasn’t completely used to. At least I wasn’t smelly. Waking up smelly was less common…but common enough.

“You’re going to be a good boy for your babysitter, right?”

I felt my cheeks glow. “Uhm…of course, Mommy.” It occurred to me that I wasn’t even sure who she had tasked with watching over me for the weekend. “Who is it? Lyndie?”

“I didn’t ask her,” Mommy said, her hands dangling over the railing of the crib so she could play with my messy hair. “Between Bradley and things at the office, I think she’s got her hands full.”

“Ms. Beaufort?”

“Well, Neve is coming with me, so…”

“Right, right.” She still hadn’t answered my question though. “So, who is going to be here this weekend?”

“She should be here any minute,” she said, checking her watch.

I felt my lips curl into a frustrated frown as I looked up at her smiling face. I just wanted her to tell me who it was.

“Oh, what’s that look for?” Mommy teased. “You’ll love her.”

“Is it Courney again? I like Courtney, but…she’s a lot.”

“Courtney’s got a lot of energy, yes. But I think that’s a good thing. She keeps you on your toes.”

“So it is Courtney?”

Mommy refused to answer, instead just humming a little as she gave a playful shrug. It was probably Courtney.

“Mommy? What about my diaper?”

She reached into my crib, giving the bloated padding between my legs a good squeeze. “You certainly need a change. But I really ought to get going. Just stay put. She will be here soon and she’ll clean you up. Consider yourself lucky that you didn’t wake up with another stinky diaper. And, on that note–and before you do that too–I should probably be on my way.”

“O-one more thing, Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Uhm, is there any chance I can get the, uh, key? For my…”

Mommy chuckled and shook her head. “Aw. I’m sure it’s not the answer you want, but I think I’ll be taking it with me.”

“But…”

“Oh, I think you’ll survive a whole weekend without it. Besides, I think you’ve been getting pretty good at making sticky diapers without needing to be unlocked.”

“I guess...”

“Now, I really need to be going. Behave yourself for the babysitter, please.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

She leaned over the railing of the crib, kissing me on the forehead. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Mommy.”

Mommy’s life continued on as it always did, it seemed. She was busy, and the demands of the new company were sending her all across the country. I was still seeing plenty of her, though a wave of anxiety still washed over my body when she announced she’d be taking off for another weekend. I always told myself it wasn’t a big deal–there had once been a time when I didn’t see her on weekends. And I was fine then, right?

The second she had left my nursery, I felt a pang in my chest. Fuck. I missed her already, and she was still in the house.

My hands fumbled over the railing of the crib in an effort to unlatch it. Mommy often teased me for how much trouble the latch gave me sometimes–which was probably why she had walked out of the room without having unlatched it herself. But I finally managed to free myself–just about tumbling out of the crib and onto the floor. It wouldn’t have been the first time that happened.

I crawled out of the room and down the hall. This just seemed to be my default mode of traversal these days. Mommy preferred it when I crawled, and so that’s what I usually did. And after crawling so often, I rarely even gave it a second thought.

I entered the living room on my hands and knees, my thick–and saturated–diaper underneath bulging out from my striped onesie. The pacifier pinned to my chest dangled below me. I was hoping to have caught Mommy before she left–just so that I could see her one more time–but it appeared that she was already gone.

Knock knock.

That would be Courtney. I already knew she was going to make a big deal of my bloated diaper, so I braced myself for her snide smile and verbal jabs as I reached up and pulled on the handle to open the door.

It wasn’t until the door was halfway open that a thought occurred to me: Courtney doesn’t knock–she just walks right in through the door.

It wasn’t Courtney.

“Oh, uhm…hi,” said the woman, brushing her dark bangs out from her eyes.

It was…her. I hadn’t seen her in such a long time. Just about as long as I had been living with Mommy. And she had changed. She looked more…mature than I remembered her ever looking before. Her hair was longer. Her clothes were nicer. I couldn’t get over how adult she looked.

“A-are you my…”

“Babysitter?” she smiled. “Believe it or not. It’s been a while, Clarky. I see that you haven’t grown up yet. In fact–I think you’ve grown down.”

There was so much I wanted to say, but instead I just looked up at her from my pathetic place on the floor–probably looking more like a baby than I ever had.

It was the first time I had seen Ava in almost ten months, and now she was going to be my babysitter?

[D503]

What an awesome season! Thanks so much for sharing, it's been a blast. A great cliffhanger ending - almost thought it'd be someone else! Lucky Clarky, living the dream.

(This Patreon thing is 💩, I hope it goes ok for you and the others are compensated properly).

[Babypants]

A nice ending in the happily ever after category.  Leaving his mother and Lyndie hanging gives us a sense of the unfinished business that needs to be addressed next season.

Thanks for the ride.

[Babytom948]

I think Deviantart has a paid option for writers.

[CCApril]

Raise your hand if you thought the baby sitter was going to be Clarks real mom!

[littlebopeeper]

7 minutes ago, CCApril said:

Raise your hand if you thought the baby sitter was going to be Clarks real mom!

It would have been the perfect cliffhanger.

[dmavn]

raises hand

[aldl4811]

Dang!! Excellent 

[quietlyhumiliated]

Onward, now, to the next part of Doing Business, the second set of short, single-part, stories that bridge the gap between Season 3 and 4. This will run for a few weeks, then we'll take another short break, and then we'll get into Season 4 of the story, proper.

As of today, my Patreon remains standing, in spite of others being purged. Still looking at other options, but in the meantime it's biz as usual. Subscribers get access to not only the rest of Memorandums II early, but also the first chapter of Season 4, which was published there yesterday. In addition to the other usual foofaraw (stories and series exclusive to the platform).

Speaking of purged Patreon-ers, if you are a content creator who was booted from Patreon, please share your new links with me - as I'd love to share them with my readers.

 

Doing Business, Memorandums II - Part 1: Ava’s Potty Training

There are four diapers left.

She knew the day would come, she just didn’t expect it to come so soon. She had gotten used to having diapers around. Many diapers. All the diapers. A seemingly infinite number of diapers. Everytime she needed more, Mommy provided–often without even asking if they were needed yet. It was actually one of the very first things she thought of when she realized she wanted to leave the company: Does this mean I have to buy my own diapers?

The diapers stopped coming. For a while, she didn’t really notice, because she had plenty of them. And then, one day, she noticed she only had four left.

She could have bought more. But she had already sworn to herself that she wouldn’t do that. She’d use up what she had–she couldn’t just let them go to waste–and that would be that.

But four? That felt more depressing than she thought it would. She was hoping there’d be, like, six or seven. Eight, maybe.

She wished she had kept a log of the last few diapers. Actually, it was a little surprising that she hadn’t. She wrote in her journal almost everyday–it was more of a lifestyle than a hobby.

She rarely ever mentioned diapers in her journal though. She certainly never used the name “Mommy” to refer to Neve Beaufort. She didn’t write about breastmilk, and she didn’t write about rubbing her diaper on Clark’s. Someday, she thought, someone else was going to read her journals. And she wasn’t sure she wanted them to know about that stuff. It was fine for them to read every other detail of her life, of course.

Three diapers ago…that was a good one. She had wet it, like, three times and rubbed her crotch against the bedpost so hard that the plastic lining tore and the pissy diaper-filler had spilled out. She hoped to replicate that in one of these last four.

Maybe I should start a new journal. One just for baby-stuff. Well, sure, that would’ve been great a few months ago. A year or two ago. But it was a little late now, considering that there were only four diapers left.

Four diapers ago…she wished she hadn’t changed out of that one so soon. She had barely even wet in it. What a waste. She wasn’t going to do that again. WIth these last four diapers, they had to count.

There was a missed call from Mommy. No, Ms. Beaufort. No, Neve. She was just checking in with Ava, as she did everyday. Ava suspected the separation was probably harder for Neve than it was for her. But it had only been a week since she left the company. It’d get easier over time, she thought. Eventually, Neve would probably stop checking in every day. She might start checking in every week. Every few weeks. A few times a year. Then, only on birthdays.

Jeez, that’s depressing. She’d probably need to find a way to write about that in her journal later.

She held the diaper in her hands–number one of four. She wondered if she should save them for another day. She’d just keep them on hand in case…there was an emergency?

She sighed and began to unfold it. Maybe she could save at least one of the other diapers for a future emergency–whatever a diaper-based emergency was. But she needed one now.

Her fingers seemed a little shaky as she fumbled with the shoulder straps of her overalls. For as frequently as she had told herself that she was ready to move on from diapers and infantile things, there was still this uncanny thrill that coursed through her body when she was about to put a diaper on again. She thought–hoped–that the feeling would fade over time.

But she had to be careful. She was still living with her mother–and that relationship had become increasingly more difficult to navigate.

There wasn’t any animosity or anger there, Ava didn’t think. Things were just awkward now. Very awkward.

She could still hear her mother asking that question: “Ava…are you one of those people who like to dress up as a…baby?”

Ava wanted to lie–she had never wanted to lie more in her entire life. But how else were you supposed to answer that question? Especially considering that her mother had already found adult-sized diapers in her bedroom. Maybe, if she were a few years younger and still in high school, she’d have feared the concept of ‘punishment,’ but that sort of thing really wasn’t on the table anymore. She was an adult. She had her undergraduate degree. She had a full time job.

And, so, she told her mother the truth. “Yeah…I have some, uh, interests. But you weren’t supposed to find those things. And I don’t want to talk about them.”

Obviously her mother had concerns–thus mentioning the diapers at all–but she seemed to agree to those terms. It wasn’t her business.

But the awkwardness that followed–and persisted since–was thick. It permeated the whole house. It was in every room. It was wedged between the two of them every time they attempted to have a conversation. They couldn’t even have a conversation about laundry detergent without there being this uncomfortable energy in the room.

The only reason she would be wearing a diaper now was because her mother was out of the house, and likely would be for the rest of the day. Otherwise–whether she thought she had the right to wear diapers in the privacy of her bedroom or not–she wouldn’t.

Her overalls fell to the floor in a heap around her ankles and she stepped out of them, kicking them aside. Flopping down on her bed, she quickly shimmied out of her pink panties too. The thick diaper was tucked under her bottom, with the front of it being weaved between her thighs. A fresh diaper had always been a good feeling, though she already found herself missing when someone else would be taking care of this part for her.

Mommy–no, Neve–would probably do it if she asked. One phone call was all that it would probably take. But then she’d put her breast in Ava’s mouth and this whole thing would start over again.

She could ask Lyndie. Hell, Lyndie offered almost everyday. But she wanted Lyndie to be her friend–not her caretaker.

So if she was going to wear a diaper now–one of her last four diapers–she was just going to have to do it herself. She wasn’t the best at diapering herself, but it didn’t have to be perfect–just functional. Basically, it just couldn’t leak. Because I plan on using the hell out of this poor diaper.

Staring up at the ceiling, as her hands rubbed the thick diaper, she kind of hated that this felt so right. As if this was the default version of herself. This mature woman she was striving to become? That was just an act.

She reached for her phone, pulling up Neve’s number. No, no, don’t do it. She then scrolled to Lyndie’s–thinking better of it once more. She even pulled up Clark’s number. Now there was a baby. Alas, she didn’t think that’d be a good move either.

She hadn’t heard from Clark in a bit, anyway. It was kind of understandable that he had fallen off the grid–he seemed to be making some big changes in his life. Diaper changes included. Still, it hurt a little that he hadn’t reached out. Besides, similar to spending time with Neve, she was sure that spending time with little baby Clark would probably undo any progress she had made in weaning herself off of the diapers.

Potty training. That’s what she had been calling it–the process in which she was slowly shedding the infantile part of her life that had become so consuming.

And why am I doing this again? Feeling that familiar and comfortable bulk between her legs was bringing out the hard questions. She knew the answer–she felt like she had fallen too deep into that lifestyle and wanted to take a break from it while she figured out how to do all that adulting she was supposed to be doing now–but she just didn’t care for it.

It only took about two minutes before she started pissing herself–the padding immediately swelling and warming as it absorbed the results of the excessive amount of water she had been drinking during the day.

“Yessss,” she audibly moaned, her fingers sinking into the squishy padding.

She lifted her legs into the air, playfully kicking her feet about as she continued to squeeze the diaper. She let her other hand slide inside of the diaper. It was wet–all kinds of wet.

This was the part she wished she had someone else here for. She needed someone to tell her that she was a dirty little girl. When she said aloud that she was a dumb little baby in a dirty diaper…

“I…I’m a dumb little baby in a dirty diaper.”

…she wished someone was there to hear it.

Mommy–no, Neve–never cared much for when Ava called herself ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid.’ She liked to remind Ava that she was “quite intelligent for a baby.” Sure, it was nice to hear, but she was missing the point–it was fun to think that you were just dumb and pathetic. Ms. Heller seemed to get it–she called Clark a dumb baby all the time.

“Just…a dumb baby…in a…”

Her words faded into a series of soft moans and squeaks that only ended when she finished in her diaper.

There are three diapers left.

“I used to think that he wanted to move out, you know? But now he’s being so fucking stubborn about it. It’s like he knows I want him to leave, so he’s just staying to spite me.”

Ava nodded sympathetically. She had opinions on this, of course, but it didn’t seem like her place to state them. It wasn’t her apartment. Not yet, at least. “Jeez, that sucks.”

Lyndie sighed and shrugged. “Look, if I have to roll him up in a rug and throw him off a bridge, I’ll do it. One way or another, he’ll be gone.”

“That might be a little extreme.”

“Well I’d like to get him out,” Lyndie said. “The sooner he’s gone, the sooner you can move in.”

“Have you ever considered just moving out yourself?” Ava asked. “You and I could look for a place together.”

“I’m the one on the lease,” Lyndie said. “Not him. It’s my apartment.”

“Alright, fine,” Ava sighed. “Just text me when you’re ready to do the carpet-bridge thing.”

“See? This is why you’re the best.”

It was unsurprising that the person she had kept in contact with the most since leaving her job was Lyndie. In fact, this was the third time this week the two had met in person–Ava was beginning to think that she was seeing Lyndie just as much now as when the two had worked together. Today, it was lunch–just sandwiches at a little deli Lyndie had been raving about for a while.

“Any word from Clark yet?” Lyndie asked.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t take it personally.”

“Are you sure about that? Because it wasn’t that long ago that we were rubbing our diapers against each other. And now it’s like the guy doesn’t even know me. Have you heard from him?”

“Directly? No,” Lyndie said, shaking her head. “I text with Ms. Heller…er, Gabrielle…once in a while, though.”

“I do the same thing,” Ava chuckled. “Sometimes I feel like I haven’t actually left. I’m just on vacation or something. And on Monday, I’ll go back, get my diaper changed, suck on Neve’s tit, and eat lunch with you and Clark. But, uhm, what does Gabrielle have to say about Clark?”

Lyndie shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds like they’re living in this fantasy bubble right now. She’s a full-time mommy. He’s a full-time baby.”

“Hrm.” Ava kind of understood the appeal. She wasn’t sure that she’d enjoy such a scenario herself–though maybe it was just because she didn’t have anyone in her life looking to make her a 24/7 adult baby. Besides, this was more or less what she had expected. “As long as he’s happy, I guess.”

“What about you and Neve?” Lyndie asked, smartly deciding to change the subject a little. “Are you two keeping in touch much?”

“Sort of. I mean we text and call when we can. But she seems pretty busy.”

“And how are things back at the office? Or…is that something you two don’t really talk about?”

“I try not to ask,” Ava said, squirming a little in her seat. Her diaper was feeling a little wet. When did she pee? She didn’t even remember doing that. Thus the importance of potty training. “From the little bits that she’s mentioned, it doesn’t sound good. She’s been talking about leaving herself soon.”

Lyndie shook her head and sipped from her bottle of water. “We were just there, you know? I was changing your…” She chuckled, thinking better of saying the d-word aloud in the deli.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy.”

Lyndie smirked. “Speaking of. Are you, uh, wearing one now?”

“Well, you know…I’ve been trying to get away from that sort of stuff and…”

“You’re totally wearing one right now.”

Ava felt her cheeks warming a little. “H-how did you know?”

“I knew a while ago,” Lyndie shrugged. “I feel like I have a sixth sense for padded bottoms now. I’ll probably have that skill for the rest of my life.”

“Look, let’s not make a big deal about it or anything. I’m just trying to use up the last of my stash.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno. I guess I…grow up? I’ll probably come back to the, uhm, baby-stuff eventually. Whenever I’m ready.”

“Fair enough,” Lyndie said. “But you haven’t grown up yet, right?”

“Well…”

“You are in a diaper, yes?” She wasn’t so careful about using the word this time. “Did you wet yourself?”

“I think? Just a little.”

Lyndie shook her head, making disapproving little clucking noises with her tongue. “How are you ever going to grow up when you’re still making pee-pees in your pants, hmm?”

Damn. In an instant, it felt like Lyndie had shaved years off of Ava’s life. It sent a pleasurable wave through her body, ending in her diaper where she felt a throbbing between her legs.

“Th-that’s not fair,” Ava said. “You shouldn’t, uhm, make me feel like that while we’re here.”

Lyndie laughed. “I’m just saying words, baby girl. You’re the one getting all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered? No, I’m just…” There seemed little point in arguing–Lyndie wasn’t wrong, and it was probably very obvious.

“How many diapers do you have left?”

“Including this one? Three.”

“Oh my. You’re almost out, then.”

Ava nodded, feeling her cheeks getting even rosier.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if, before you go back to pretending that you’re an adult again, you got one more diaper change?”

That was so very tempting. It almost seemed to betray the entire concept of ‘potty training.’ Though, to be fair, ‘potty training’ wasn’t a literal process–it was a state of mind.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Ava. You’ll regret it when you’re out of diapers.”

Jeez. Just the mention of the word ‘diaper’ coming from someone else’s mouth was enough to make her quiver. She wondered if it was always going to be like this. Years from now, she’d see a TV commercial for diapers and suddenly her panties would be damp.

But Lyndie was probably right.

“If I agree to this now, could you at least promise me that you won’t pressure me to put on diapers again while I’ve stepped away from the baby-stuff?”

Lyndie’s face lit up. “Of course. Though, if you’re going to let me change your diaper, you might as well give me something substantial to change.”

Ava laughed and stirred around her drink with her straw. “That seems fair.”

There are two diapers left.

Lyndie might have left, but traces of their time together still lingered in her bedroom. The air, while not as pungent as it had been earlier, still carried notes of the rather filthy diaper Lyndie had ended up changing.

“It’s going to be stinky,” Lyndie had said. “Are you sure it’s going to be okay to do this at your place?” Translation: I know you and your mother are already at odds because of this stuff. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

At the time, Ava didn’t care. Now, with hindsight, she wasn’t sure it had been the best move. She had grown used to the stench in the bedroom during and immediately following her change. But after walking Lyndie out, getting herself a glass of water, and returning to the bedroom, she realized that it was still a lot more obvious than she would’ve liked. Worse, the smell seemed to have seeped beneath her bedroom door and now the hallway was starting to stink of a rotten diaper too.

There was time–just a little bit–before her mother came home from work. Maybe that was enough time to disperse the scent. She lit a candle too, hoping that would help in masking any lingering shameful odors.

She collapsed on her bed, her fingers almost instantly sliding into her pants to feel the clean diaper Lyndie had put her into. Honestly, Ava hadn’t wanted to jump into her second-to-last diaper so quickly, but it had made sense in the moment. As Lyndie had said: “Babies get changed out of a dirty diaper and put into a clean diaper. That’s just how these things work.”

And maybe this was a good thing. She likened it to ripping the band-aid off–you just had to get it all done and over with, grimace, and then move on. There was only one diaper left after this one. And then? She was free.

But…goddamnit. Lyndie had really made a strong case for sticking with diapers a little longer. It felt so good to have someone else in the room with her while she acted like an overgrown toddler. It felt good to squat and fill the back of her diaper while someone put a hand on her bottom. It felt good to have someone pull open the back of her diaper and feign shock and disgust at what they found inside. It felt good to have her legs lifted into the air and to have someone else wipe her bottom.

Now what? She was wearing her second-to-last diaper, and her mother would be home soon. She was either going to have to take it off–almost certainly ruining it–or keep it on while tiptoeing around the house to ensure her mother didn’t catch her crinkling. Neither option seemed all that great.

“Future-me problems,” she muttered to herself, her fingers slipping inside of the diaper to feel her slickened labia. Lyndie had taken care of almost everything earlier, having left Ava to deal with the bottled-up pleasure she was feeling all by herself. That wasn’t a problem, of course.

Not too long after, Ava realized that she had reached the prophesied ‘future-me.’ Her mother was home, and Ava needed to make a decision about what to do. She opted to stay in the diaper.

Ava took slow and careful steps from her bedroom to the kitchen. Most days, she was happier just avoiding her mother altogether. But making occasional contact with her mother, she had decided, was part of ‘potty training.’ She needed to get that relationship back on track again–even if she was wearing one of her last diapers while doing so.

She caught her mother taking little sniffs of the air–seemingly analyzing the strange scents she was picking up.

“Hey,” Ava said, hoping a conversation about smells wasn’t in her future.

“Hey, Ava. Did you have a good day?”

“It was good,” she answered, nodding. “I met up with Lyndie for lunch.” Her mother didn’t know Lyndie, and she probably didn’t know much about her either. That was probably for the best.

“That sounds nice,” her mother said. Her mouth hung open for another moment like she had another question to ask. Probably something like ‘Does it smell strange in here to you?’ But she didn’t say anything else. If Ava was to guess, her mother just didn’t want to rock the boat too much when they were both actually talking to each other.

“How was your day?” Ava asked.

“Oh, you know. Busy as ever.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a start. Both seemed to be making an effort.

“Are you cooking tonight?” Ava asked.

“I was going to,” her mother said. “I took some pork chops out of the freezer this morning. But I was feeling kind of naughty today and…maybe we order some Thai?”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh–her mother’s idea of ‘naughty’ was a lot different than her own.

“What?” her mother asked. “What’s so funny?”

“N-nothing,” Ava said. “Thai actually sounds amazing.”

“Perfect. Just let me know what you want and I’ll call in an order.”

“Will do. Just, uh, give me one minute.”

Her mother raised a curious eyebrow as Ava slowly backed herself out of the kitchen before sprinting down the hallway and back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She didn’t want to take this unused diaper off, but she also didn’t want to have this crinkling monstrosity interrupt the first evening in a while that she and her mother were getting along. As carefully as she could, she tried to peel the tapes off–but it proved to be pointless. There seemed to be no good way to remove them without damaging the diaper.

Fuck it. She just tore it off, balled it up, and shoved it into her trash can. This was just going to have to be the way it was.

There is only one diaper left.

It would be a few days after discarding her second-to-last diaper before she could even bring herself to look at her last diaper. She was thinking about it, of course. She was thinking about it all the time. Everyday. Multiple times a day.

There had been days when she told herself that she was going to just go and use the diaper at the first chance she had. There’s no point in saving it. Just use it and be done with it. The sooner you’ve completely soaked it–or worse–the sooner you can move on. But then she’d find the alone-time she needed to wear a diaper, only to decide that it wouldn’t be happening on that day.

She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. A specific day? A specific mood? The right amount of pressure on her bowels? Sometimes she wondered if she was waiting for someone like Lyndie or Mommy–no, Neve–to volunteer to treat her like a baby first. Perhaps, she wondered, she needed the last diaper to be an event. The most epic diaper experience of all time. She’d piss in it a few times. She’d load up the back of it until it was good and heavy. She’d roll around on the ground and make an absolute mess of everything around her. She’d be on her hands and knees, tears in her eyes, begging someone to change her. And before she was changed, she’d be pulled over an adult’s sturdy lap for a long painful spanking.

But she was pretty sure that her fantasies were a bit too big for reality. Any attempt at meeting her expectations would just fall short and end up feeling depressing.

And so the lone diaper remained hidden at the bottom of a drawer in her desk. It was somehow easier to just not wear it than to risk having a disappointing experience with it.

The first two weeks were the hardest. No matter where she was, she could feel the tempting pull of her last diaper. Was this how that hobbit felt? Sometimes she’d go and pull the diaper from its hiding place and just hold it for a while. Sometimes she would even start to unfold it a little before thinking better of it and putting it away again. Once, she even held it up to her face to smell it. It didn’t smell like much–not without the baby powder. But the faint scent of industrially sanitized plastic was familiar enough to provide a small hit of endorphins.

And then there was the accident.

It came while she was running an errand not far from her house. All she had to do was pick up a refill from the pharmacy, and it was such a nice day out that she wanted to get out and stretch her legs a little bit anyway. While at the pharmacy, she took a little stroll around to see if there was anything else she needed–maybe a little snack for later. Instead, she found herself in the ‘adult health’ aisle–though whether this was accidental or not was hard to say. She knew these drug-store brand diapers were no good, but just looking at the organized shelves full of ‘adult incontinence briefs’ filled her with all sorts of strong desires. Once more, she told herself that she’d slip into her last diaper when she got home.

Things got a little foggy for her as she left the pharmacy. That small burst of lust had gotten her all turned around, and she felt like she was a little girl working for her Mommy again. Her step had a little extra bounce to it–she was practically skipping–as she thought about taking Mommy’s nipple into her mouth once more. She was so hungry. And after Mommy was done feeding her, maybe she’d have some time to change her diaper. And that meant that she needed to have something in her diaper worth changing.

Using a diaper was such an easy thing for Ava that she could sometimes do it when she slept. And, a few times, she had. Her body did most of the work for her, automatically turning her impulses into action. And that was what happened as she bounced down the street towards her house–her distracted brain sent the right impulses to her body, which responded in the way it had grown used to.

By the time Ava realized what was happening, it was far too late. A sizable load of soft mush had worked itself into the back of her panties, and her tight pants lacked the vacancy afforded by the thick diapers she was used to–causing the mass to immediately spread in every direction imaginable. Even if she had been wearing a diaper, this would’ve likely been, as Mommy–no, Neve–would say: ‘A catastrophic mess.’

Tears welled in her eyes as she deliberated her options. There really weren’t any. She had to get home, and she had to get home fast.

If there was any silver lining to be found, it was that she had gone with the black pants when she got dressed that morning–not the white pair that she had first pulled from the closet. Aside from the noxious cloud surrounding her–and it was already rather pungent–she figured she could probably get home without drawing too much attention to herself. She didn’t have that far to go, but her swampy pants had reduced her pace to a sluggish waddle.

It would be this tiresome trek home in her muddy pants that depleted the last of her romanticism towards diapers. By the time she got into the house and shed her filthy clothes to start the arduous task of cleaning up, she had already made up her mind about that last diaper: She didn’t need it. She didn’t want it.

She never harbored regrets for the things she had done and the lifestyle she had. Those were still good memories to her. Once in a while she’d even find herself yearning for the taste of Neve’s breastmilk, or she’d have the urge to slide her thumb into her mouth.

Ava considered throwing that last diaper away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t that she wanted to save it for another day when she might want it–she could just recognize that every diaper was a potential memory. A story. Who was she to deny someone else a chance at having another embarrassing story?

Instead, she sealed it up in a large envelope and mailed it back to Neve Beaufort’s home. Maybe there’d be another assistant in Neve’s future who would need it. Or, maybe Neve just knew of a baby in need of a pink diaper. Either way, it wasn’t Ava’s problem to worry about anymore.

As far as she was concerned, she was sufficiently ‘potty trained.’ Aside from a few little dribbles of pee finding their way into her panties from time to time.

There are no diapers left.

“I don’t want you to think that you can’t live here,” Ava’s mother said one night as they sat on the couch together. “Because you can. And, you know, you’re an adult. I may not understand everything that you like, but it’s also not any of my business.”

As tempting as it was to try and explain that she had moved on from such desires–at least for the time being–it also didn’t seem to matter. Whether it was diapers or anything else under the sun, Ava was thankful that her mother at least respected her personal space.

“Thank you,” Ava said instead. “But I’m not moving out because of anything you did. I think I’m just ready to make that sort of change in my life.”

Her mother sighed, quite likely with relief. “Okay. And I certainly respect that. You know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to imply that I didn’t think you weren’t mature before. But…something changed in the last few weeks. Maybe it was leaving your job? You just seem so…grown up all of a sudden.”

Ava laughed. “Thank you, Mom. I really needed to hear that.”

Not long after, as they stared ahead at the TV together, a diaper commercial came on. Ava was tempted to glance at her mother–just to see if she would be looking back at Ava–but she kept her eyes forward. Instead, she daydreamed about having some diapers of her own again.

[sklawlor]

nice memorandom. I don't recall ever reading season 1, I think I caught this story in season 2 so can you give me a link to the first if it's still available?

[Sumi]

22 hours ago, sklawlor said:

nice memorandom. I don't recall ever reading season 1, I think I caught this story in season 2 so can you give me a link to the first if it's still available?

All you need to do is click on quietlyhumiliateds name and it takes you to a bio area or something like that and from there to the right side you will see a box that says view activity. There should be like 6 pages there and you can select what you want and read from the beginning.  I will add that there are a few more stories there that are of the same caliber as this one but I think the current story here is his best as of yet with still tons of potential directions to go.

[D503]

"Was this how that hobbit felt?" - brilliant 😁