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

[Babypants]

On the scale of imagination hard at work, this chapter scores ten out of ten.  Well done.

One question, though: did Clark run out the door, or waddle out?

[quietlyhumiliated]

On 10/8/2022 at 4:27 PM, Babypants said:

One question, though: did Clark run out the door, or waddle out?

I suspect, in your heart, you know the answer to this.

[quietlyhumiliated]

Seventeen

I had no idea where Neve Beaufort’s office was, and I was worried that I was too late as I scrambled out of the conference room. If I had missed Lyndie and Ava, I’d probably never find them. Worse, I’d probably have to go back to the conference room and tell Ms. Heller–and likely the whole room–that I had failed, and was still wearing a wet diaper.

Thankfully, I found them waiting in the hall for an elevator.

“What are you doing here?” Lyndie asked.

“Well…Ms. Heller thought that maybe I should follow you two, to–you know–see how things are going and…uh…”

“Or,” Lyndie countered, “do you just need a diaper change yourself?”

“Bingo,” said Ava.

“Yeah,” I said, releasing a defeated sigh.

Just in time, the elevator doors opened. The three of us boarded, and Ava selected the floor from the wall panel. I think I was hoping for a more relaxed atmosphere, now that it was just the three of us–removed from our bosses and corporate overlords. Yet the elevator ride was quiet and awkward.

From the elevator, Ava led us down a few hallways in a portion of the building that I had never seen before. Considering the massive size of the building, and how little of it I had ever needed to see before, this shouldn’t have surprised me. Yet it still humbled me how easy it was to wander into an area that I’d be lost in if left to my own devices.

We reached Ms. Beaufort’s office door, which Ava unlocked with a key.

“She trusts you with a key to her office?” I asked Ava.

“Well, sure,” she replied, shrugging. “I’m her assistant.”

I wondered if this meant that one day Ms. Heller would trust me with a key to her office. It occurred to me that I spent so much time thinking about being her weird personal dolly that I rarely considered the actual assistant part of her job.

“What do you do as Ms. Beaufort’s assistant?” I asked.

“Scheduling. Filing. Paperwork. And, you know, I’m always available if she needs me to suck on her tits or something.”

She had said it casually that I almost had to think about whether or not it was actually a strange thing to request an assistant do. The door was opened and we all filed into the office before Ava shut it behind us.

It was big–though not bigger than Ms. Heller’s office. But whereas Ms. Heller’s office was sleek with its modern style, Ms. Beaufort’s office had a more antiquated charm to it. There was probably a name for this type of style–gold and marble with early 20th century aesthetics. It bordered on gaudy, but I supposed I could see it as tasteful.

“It’s gorgeous,” Lyndie said, looking around the room.

“You should tell her that,” Ava said. “She’ll love you forever.”

I didn’t want to talk about the decor. Really, there wasn’t much else that I wanted to talk about besides the reason we were all sent here in the first place.

“So…do we really have to do this?” I asked.

Both women looked at me like I had two heads.

“Well, yeah,” Lyndie said. “You need your diapers changed, right? I suspect you can’t go back there in still-wet diapers.”

“Are you nervous about getting changed in front of me?” asked Ava. “I don’t have to look. Of course, that means that you can’t look at me while I’m getting changed either.”

“I guess I mean that…isn’t it weird?” I asked. “The adults just send us off to get our diapers changed while they sit around and talk about us? And we’re just expected to…do it.”

Now both women were giggling at me.

“What?” I asked. “What’s so funny?”

“The adults?” asked Ava.

“So clearly you already see yourself as one of the babies,” added Lyndie.

I felt my cheeks blushing. What a stupid and embarassing slip. “I didn’t mean, like, adults. I meant, like…our bosses.”

“Uh huh,” Lyndie said. “Pants off. Get on the ground, baby boy. Ava, can you show me where Ms. Beaufort keeps her spare diapers and whatnot?”

“Of course,” Ava said. “But also, you don’t have to change him on the ground. Ms. Beaufort and I use this.”

She walked over to the room’s couch and pulled out the base of it, unfolding it into a bed.

“A futon,” I said. “Does she sleep here?”

“She doesn’t consider it a bed when it's unfolded,” Ava answered. “She calls it our changing table.”

This prompted another laugh from Lyndie, likely watching as my cheeks got a little darker upon hearing that.

“Go ahead, then,” Lyndie said to me. “Get your pants off and wait for me on the changing table.”

And while Ava opened a closet and was showing Lyndie where she could get more diapers, I slowly unbuckled my pants. Slowly slid my feet out of my shoes. Slowly lowered my pants down my thighs–for what felt like the 100th time just today–and stepped out of them.

“Bad news,” Lyndie said, walking back towards me as I lowered myself onto the converted-bed.

“Is she…out of diapers?” I asked. If I sounded hopeful, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to wear diapers–I was just hoping to get out of being changed in front of two attractive women.

“Oh no,” Ava said. “She has plenty of diapers.”

“The bad news is that she doesn’t have the plain white ones that Ms. Heller has been putting you in.”

“What other kind of diaper is there?” I asked, sincerely struggling with the mental image of what another type of adult diaper could look like.

Lyndie held it out in front of her so I could see it. It was certainly different, and it made the white diapers I had grown used to look as regular as a pair of the boxer briefs I had worn a week ago. For one, it was pink. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a cartoonish print that spanned the length of the diaper. Princesses. Tiaras. Unicorns. Magic wands and stars.

“I…I can’t wear that,” I said.

“It’s a diaper,” Lyndie said. “And you need a new one.”

“But I’m not a girl!” I protested.

“Well,” Lyndie retorted, “you’re not exactly a big boy either, are you?”

That shut me up.

Lyndie descended upon me, working herself between my legs to remove the mildly-sodden diaper. I had managed to wet it a little more on the way to Ms. Beaufort’s office–a semi-conscious effort to get as much out of my system to avoid yet another diaper change later today–though this was hardly the worst diaper Lyndie had ever seen me in.

“You never reached out to me with your number,” Ava said from somewhere behind me as Lyndie began peeling back the tapes.

I had almost entirely forgotten about that. Obviously. It was the first time I met Ava, just outside of Ms. Heller’s office. It was only days ago, but it felt like centuries ago now. I had promised to send her my phone number so we could connect outside of work. Presumably to talk about the weird new world I found myself in that she was already a part of.

“It’s been a hell of a week,” I said. It felt pretty strange saying anything at all while on my back in the middle of getting my diaper changed.

There was a little more confidence in Lyndie’s work as she handled this diaper. Maybe it was her new promotion. Perhaps she was just quickly getting the hang of actually changing me. Or, more than likely, it was just much easier to contend with a diaper that didn’t look like a sewage treatment plant had exploded within it. The wet diaper was opened up, and she was wiping my skin clean.

“I know this all seems overwhelming right now,” Ava said. “But…I’m happy that you’re with us now.”

“Us?” asked Lyndie. “Like…the other executive assistants?”

“Exactly,” Ava said.

“What can you tell us about the others?” Lyndie asked. “Megan? Bradley?”

“Bradley doesn’t wear diapers,” Ava said. “Well…not yet. I don’t see him very often, honestly. He’s pretty shy and mostly just sticks to Ms. Tamblerin’s side.”

Lyndie pulled the old diaper out from under me, giving my bottom one more cleansing swipe before prepping the new pink diaper to be slid under me.

“And what about Megan?” I asked.

“Megan…” There was a strange hesitation in Ava’s tone. “She’s a curious case.”

Lyndie’s eyes connected with mine, and we were both hungry for elaboration.

“Well we definitely need to know more about that,” Lyndie said, sliding the new diaper beneath me.

“Normally I wouldn’t want to tell someone else’s story,” Ava said. “But…I guess you’ll find out sooner or later for yourself anyways.”

The front of the fresh diaper was pulled through my open legs and folded over my, thankfully, limp cock and positioned in place. The new tapes were pulled open and positioned tightly in place. I was officially in a pretty pink diaper now.

“Go on,” Lyndie urged Ava, turning from me so she could face her directly. “Dish.”

“Well, Megan started working here as, uhm, Martin…”

It took a moment or two for both Lyndie and I to process that.

I spoke first, sitting up on the extended couch cushion: “Megan is a… Was a…?”

“She’s…she. Now,” Ava said. “Mutually agreed upon between herself and Mr. Yang, of course. And Mr. Yang has invested a lot in Megan.”

I had more questions, as I’m sure Lyndie did too. Questions that were probably better for Megan herself. This felt universally agreed upon, given the moments of quiet that followed.

“One baby down,” Lyndie said, getting us back on track. “One to go. Ready, Ava?”

“Y-yes,” she replied with a sheepish nod.

I stood up and stepped away from the makeshift ‘changing table,’ grabbing my pants and shoes as I gave Ava space.

“I didn’t look,” Ava said to me as she approached Lyndie.

“So I won’t look at you either,” I said.

Ava flipped up her black skirt, revealing the pink diaper underneath it. It wasn’t as easy to see the discoloration from wetness that my white diapers had, but there was an obvious heavy sag to it.

I quickly looked away, feeling bad for having seen what I had–especially after just agreeing to not looking.

“I was kidding, by the way,” Ava said. “I totally looked at you while you got your diaper changed.”

I laughed, though I felt my face growing red again.

Ava had less hesitancy than I did to lay down in front of Lyndie for her diaper change. I wondered if it was just experience. Being in that conference room had revealed what I had only suspected before–there was a strange community within this company that I was now a part of. I wondered who else had changed Ava’s diaper before. Had she been…passed around? Had Ms. Heller, at some point, changed Ava’s diaper too?

I heard Lyndie peeling back the tapes of Ava’s diaper. I kept my eyes averted.

“Is this just what happens to all executive assistants?” I asked. “We just get…put in diapers or made into sex toys?”

“Not all,” Ava said. “Ms. Heller’s last assistant certainly wasn’t invited to participate. I don’t know why. Maybe he wasn’t a good fit or had the wrong attitude.”

Daniel–I had forgotten about him. At the start of the week, he still had a job here. Now he was gone and, as best as I could tell, it was because Ms. Heller found someone else that she wanted to put into a diaper.

“Oh wow,” Lyndie said, looking down between Ava’s legs as she opened her diaper. “I’ve never seen such smooth skin before. Have you ever had hair here?”

“Ms. Beaufort is very particular about it,” Ava responded. “She keeps me very, uhm, maintained.”

I wanted to look. Very badly. But I kept a little bit of distance, being sure only to look at the back of Lyndie’s head when I glanced in that direction.

“And are you always such a heavy wetter?” Lyndie asked.

“I…I guess I don’t really think about it much anymore,” Ava said. “I pretty much wear diapers all the time. And when I have to go, I just go.”

“As any baby should,” Lyndie said, herself sounding like an expert caregiver for large babies–even if this was, by my count, only the third diaper she had ever changed.

“You like it?” I asked.

“Who, me?” Lyndie asked.

“Sorry,” I said, realizing I had just sort of blurted out that question without making it clear what I meant. “Ava. Do you like this? Your role as Ms. Beaufort’s baby?”

Ava’s response was not what I was expecting. Not words–just a soft moan.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” Lyndie said. “I was just trying to clean you up, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no,” Ava said to her. “It’s okay. I’m just…sensitive. It doesn’t take much to, uhm, excite me.”

It seemed like dangerous knowledge in the hands of Lyndie, though I figured I’d let Ava figure that out for herself.

“I like it,” Ava said, seeming to finally be coming back around to answering my question. “It’s obviously not normal. But it’s easy to forget that when you’re in this building. Ms. Beaufort cares for me, and she treats me incredibly well. Since becoming an assistant, it’s kind of like I’m in a different world now when I’m at the office.”

“How so?” I asked. There were plenty of obvious answers, but I felt like I still needed to hear her perspective on it.

“There’s, what, hundreds of people here?” Ava asked. “They come here every day and they just…do their job. Paperwork, analysis, meetings, collaborations. But the executives–not all of them, but the ones you met, for sure–seem to be on a completely different planet. They do minimal amounts of work, delegating the rest of it to committees and associates who do all the heavy lifting for them. And with the rest of their time, they live in this…fantasyland. Weird fetishes. Meet-ups and secret gatherings. It’s a world within a world here, and I have no doubt that we’re only seeing a small portion of it.”

I hadn’t considered it before, but Ava’s words made sense. If we lowly assistants were allowed access to this level of strangeness, maybe it wasn’t too far-fetched that there were even stranger things that we haven’t seen yet. Or that we’d never see at all.

“All done,” Lyndie said, placing the last tape for Ava’s new diaper. “You’re good to go.”

“Hey,” I said, still in the process of working out the idea I had. “Maybe we can get together later? After work? We can talk about…everything.”

Lyndie nodded, signaling that she was in.

“I’d like that,” Ava said. “Where?”

“Well,” I said with a shrug, “how about my place?”

“His roommate already knows about the diapers,” Lyndie added. “Though that’s not saying much. I feel like everyone who runs into Clark knows.”

Ava laughed. “Is that so?

“N-nevermind that. Let’s get back to the conference room.”

We traversed back to the elevator in a single-file line following Ava, who was likely the only one of us who knew how to get us back to where we needed to be. None of us had much to say–we all had a bit to think about and process. Even Ava, arguably the most experienced with this world–was the introduction of Lyndie to her world something easily accepted?

The walk back had disarmed me. By the time we reached the conference room doors, I felt pretty calm and collected. Yes, everything was weird–but I could handle it. So long as the weirdness was slowly doled out to us, we’d just continue to learn and acclimate.

You got this, I said to myself as Ava opened the door.

“Perfect, you’re back just in time,” Ms. Heller said as she stood up from her seat at the end of the table. “Let’s get you properly initiated with your ceremonial spanking.”

[Bluebird67]

5 hours ago, quietlyhumiliated said:

So long as the weirdness was slowly doled out to us, we’d just continue to learn and acclimate.

Well, that didn’t last long, did it? Good thing he loves being humiliated!

[Babypants]

Laughs.  Will Clark's initiation into chastity also be ritualized in the boardroom?  This story calls to mind a famous exchange at a high society dinner party, sometimes attributed to Bernard Shaw, or Churchill, or Mark Twain.  A gentleman walks up to a well-to-do lady and, without preamble, asks if she would sleep with him for a million pounds.  Of course, she replies.  And, he follows up, would you sleep with me for a pound?  Of course not, she scoffs; "what do you think I am?"  "Madam," our worthy protagonist retorts, "we have already established what you are.  We are now haggling about the price."  It strikes me that Clark is paying an unusual form of tuition to gain access to the top of the corporate ladder.  The education that he is already receiving at Ms. Heller's feet over time will prove far more relevant than the classroom education that he is paying a quite different price to obtain.  

[quietlyhumiliated]

Hey everyone - thank you so much for reading, liking, and commenting on this story! This chapter marks the end...of this current season. There won't be a chapter posted next week, to align the story's schedule with other platforms, but then Season 2 will kick off the week after. I'll keep it all in this thread, so it remains easier to find, of course.

Or, if you feel so inclined, check out the link in my sig to my Patreon, where all of my readers are already reading the first three chapters of the next season of Doing Business!

Thanks again, hope yer liking it so far!

 

Eighteen

To the side of the large conference table, a row of chairs had been pulled back against the wall. The executives–the adults–were positioned at each chair.

Nobody needed to tell me how this was going to work, I could already see it for myself. This was a gauntlet.

I’d be passed down the line of execs, each having their moment with me, before I was finally passed back to Ms. Heller. And at the end of this process, I’d officially be indoctrinated into this weird kinky world of theirs.

I eyed up the order. Mr. Morris. Mr. Yang. Ms. Tamberlin. Ms. Beaufort. And finally, Ms. Heller.

Mommy.

On the other side of the room, I watched Ava and Lyndie join the other assistants. Megan was running her fingers through hair, seeming a little distracted. Bradley looked on nervously–either remembering his own initiation or maybe this was just the way he always looked.

“Come on now,” said Mr. Morris. “Get over here.”

I shuffled over to where he sat. I expected us to have a conversation, or that there’d at least be some sort of preparation for what was to come. Instead, he seemed to leap right into it. He reached forward to begin unfastening my pants. Instinctively, I brought my hands up to block him, but he just effortlessly batted them away, reminding me that he was now in charge.

“You shouldn’t have come back with pants on,” he said. “We were just going to take them back anyways.”

“Well you can’t have him walking around the building in just a diaper,” Ms. Beaufort said from further down the line.

“See, this is why I think we need to consider having a dedicated floor of the building that we use as a playspace,” Mr. Yang said, throwing his hands into the air.

“The board doesn’t love that idea,” Ms. Heller said. “But I still believe they can be convinced.”

The board? There was a board too? Did they know about the weird kinky lives the execs lead at work? Were they in on this game too?

“Now then,” Mr. Morris said as he tugged on my pants. “Let’s see that clean new diaper of yours.”

A ripple of giggles spread over the conference room from both sides as my girlish diaper was exposed.

I tried to explain: “It…it was all that was in Ms. Beaufort’s office and…”

“Baby, is your pacifier in your pocket?” Mommy asked from further down the line.

“Yes…”

“Be a doll and pop that into your mouth, please.”

I fished the plastic dummy from my pocket and did as she asked. As was likely her intent, I had felt especially chastised and childish by her command.

“Yes,” Mr. Morris said, running his hands over my pretty diaper, “this is a rather sissy look for you. Is your Mommy about to start putting ribbons in your hair?”

“I think I’d like to keep him as a baby boy,” Ms. Heller said. “Sissies are more Mr. Yang’s department.

“Sissies?” Mr. Yang rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Megan isn’t a sissy.”

“Over my lap,” Mr. Morris says to me, ignoring the other banter. “I assume you know where a little toddler belongs for a spanking.”

Not exactly, but I could figure it out. It had been a very long time since I was last pulled over someone’s knees for a spanking, but those memories never really fade.

Just like climbing into Daddy’s lap.

I threw myself over his legs, hearing a few more muffled chuckles scattered about the room as I did. He did the rest of the work himself, grabbing the waistband of my diaper with a single strong hand and pulling me into place.

There was no warning–he just immediately went into it.

SMACK!

I didn’t feel much of it. I felt the thick padding get shoved against my skin, but most of his blow was dispersed throughout the diaper. I assumed he knew this, of course. The spanking wasn’t intended to hurt–it was intended to humiliate. My pants were off, I was in a girly diaper, and I was over a man’s lap getting spanked–all while at work.

The mission is a success.

He throws a barrage of loud and firm slaps my way, each rebounding off the bottom of the diaper–the sounds echoing through the conference room.

“I’m hoping to spend more time with you,” he said to me finally.

“Yes sir,” I said. Adding, only because it seemed like the polite thing to say: “Likewise.”

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough fun,” Mr. Yang said from the next chair over. “Pass him along, will ya?”

Mr. Morris gently nudged me off his lap, and my feet slid back to the ground again. A short waddle later, and I was at the lap of Mr. Yang. I didn’t bother waiting for the cue to throw myself over his knees–I knew the request would be coming soon enough–and I planted myself atop his lap.

“Oh wow,” he said. “A real go-getter, this one. I can see why you’d want him to be your assistant.”

“He’s certainly a catch,” she responds from further down the line of chairs.

“I don’t have much more to add than what Mr. Morris has already demonstrated,” Mr. Yang says to me. “Though it looked like he was having fun slapping around this big poofy bottom of yours.”

WHAP! SMACK!

A short flurry of slaps rebounded off my diaper, again filling the room with the humiliating noise. Something was happening back there. Maybe the repeated slaps were breaking down the diaper’s thick qualities, or maybe it just took so many blows in the same spot before I began to feel it.

But I was starting to feel it now.

“Give him here,” Ms. Tamberlin said.

“Hold on,” Mr. Yang said. “I’m not done yet.”

SLAP! WHACK!

Another batch of smacks landed on my diaper. If asked, I wouldn’t have admitted that it was painful yet. But some of that sting was starting to make its way through.

As I was only halfway across the gauntlet, this didn’t bode well for me.

“Don’t be greedy,” Ms. Tamberlin said, expressing a little more frustration in her tone. “I want to play with the baby.”

“You don’t even like babies,” retorted Mr. Yang.

“I like them when they’re not mine.”

“Fine, fine.”

I was handed off again. I hopped off one lap and into Ms. Tamberlin’s. I glanced across the room as I did so, taking in the faces of the peanut gallery–the other assistants and Lyndie. None of the assistants seemed to look much different from the last time I saw them. I wondered if they’d seen this all before–aside from the time they had experienced it for themselves.

It was Lyndie’s reaction I was most interested in getting a glimpse of. Her smile had grown wider, and her hands seemed tightly clasped in front of her, like she could barely contain her glee.

SMACK!

Ms. Tamberlin wasted no time in walloping my diaper. I felt that one, and it smarted. The diaper’s protection seemed to have been worn down by the last two laps. Not only that, but it seemed like Ms. Tamberlin was striking harder than her peers.

CRACK! WHAP!

Her hand seemed to move faster, and the impact sounded louder when she made contact. Had the men just been showing restraint?

“I probably should’ve warned you, Baby,” Ms. Heller said. “Nancy is also the Director of Corporal Punishment.”

“God, I wish,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “Could you imagine how cool those business cards would look?”

SMACK! SLAP!

Another sharp delivery of swats arrives. My ass feels hot, and I bet it’s warm to the touch.

I’m now in pain.

I feel my eyes watering. My bottom lip is trembling. I didn’t see this coming minutes ago. Moments ago, even. And looking ahead–I know it’s only going to get worse.

“About done with him?” asked Ms. Beaufort in her delicious French-tinged accent.

“Just about,” she said. I couldn’t see her face, but I was pretty sure I could hear her smiling.

SLAP! WHACK!

A pathetic “Guh!” was forced from my mouth as her final smacks were felt through the worn padding of my diaper. This seemed to elicit a favorable reaction on both sides of the room.

I feel a heavy teardrop rolling down my cheek.

“There,” said Ms. Tamberlin, sounding content with what she had accomplished. “Now you can have him.”

I’m ready to flop myself over Ms. Beaufort’s lap next, but she stops me.

“Perhaps your bottom could use a break, yes?” she asked.

I nodded, sniffling a little.

“You’re looking a little beaten down, Clark,” she continued. “Does your little tushy hurt?”

I fought the urge to turn around and see how the other assistants were reacting. I simply stared forward at Ms. Beaufort, offering a little nod.

“I may have a little something that could help.”

“Oh?”

“You’re going to love this,” Ms. Heller remarked.

To my astonishment, Ms. Beaufort was unbuttoning her blouse. There was no shame or hesitation on her part, she went about it like she was at home, alone, with nobody watching her. She just made her way down her blouse, unfastening each button along the way, until she got to the last third when she stopped.

She reached into her open blouse to expose her lacy white bra. I may or may not have previously appreciated the size of large breasts in passing, but the more I saw of them now, the larger they appeared to be. And once her bra was exposed, she carefully hoisted her left bosom from it.

There it was, completely exposed to everyone in the conference room–her plump breast and its generously-sized nipple. And there appeared to be a little drop of moisture at the tip of it? A rogue droplet on the underside of her breast?

I wished I had a little more decorum, but out of surprise, I blurted: “Are you…lactating?”

There were some more scattered giggles throughout the room. I suspected everyone else–save for Lyndie–was already well aware of this.

“Don’t be shy,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Don’t you want a taste?”

Of course I did. I was practically salivating. But did I want a taste of her breastmilk here? With an audience?

“Really, it’s okay,” Ms. Beaufort said.

“Everyone’s had a taste,” Ms. Heller said, motioning towards the other assistants.

“I haven’t,” said Mr. Morris from the other end of the executives.

“If you’d like to serve as my assistant too,” Ms. Beaufort rebutted, “I’m all for it. But diapers are a mandatory part of my assistants’ dress code.”

Mr. Morris didn’t seem to have anything else to interject.

“Just a taste,” Ms. Beaufort said to me again.

I had never known how badly I wanted this before. And with another pathetic sniffle, and just after wiping the last of the tears from my eyes, I leaned forward and gently placed my lips on her breast. I had no remembered life-experience with actually suckling from a nipple, though the motions did remind me of sucking on a pacifier.

When the first drop hit my tongue, I immediately regretted having tasted it at all. It wasn’t enough that it made me feel so completely small–it also tasted magical. Like sweetened milk, or milk mixed with honey. I needed more, and I already knew that I’d later be craving more.

“Oh goodness,” Ms. Beaufort exclaimed to the delight of the others in the room. “He’s a thirsty one, hmm. Gabby, maybe you ought to consider lactation training yourself?”

I pulled myself away from her breast, suddenly remembering where I was and who I was still amongst. I had only been suckling for a second or three–but that was all it took to instantly brainwash me into thinking I was an actual baby again. My cheeks turned bright red as I tried to compose myself.

“Some babies can’t get enough,” Ms. Heller said with a shrug. “I’ll consider the suggestion, but if you have enough to share…”

“I do,” Ms. Beaufort says with a smile. “Anytime baby gets hungry and wants a little snack, you just let me know.”

And that just left one chair left: Mommy’s.

Having been sufficiently spanked, poked, prodded, and even breastfed, I wasn’t sure what else there was to endure now that I’ve made it to the end. Instead of throwing myself over Ms. Heller’s lap–as much as I would’ve liked to–I stood still and waited for her direction.

“I wanted to give this to you sooner,” she said. “But this seemed like a more fitting time for it.”

I tried to imagine what it might be. A key to her office? Her home phone number? A new pacifier?

She handed me a box, wrapped in red wrapping paper. “Go ahead. Open it.”

My eyes scanned across the conference room again, hoping to read the reactions of everyone else before taking any more guesses as to what it could be. But they seemed just uncertain, and curious, as I did.

Here goes nothing. I tore off the paper.

For a moment, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking at. I could see a picture of the contraption on the box–whatever it was, it looked sleek and made of stainless steel.

“Read it aloud,” Ms. Heller said. “What does the box say?”

“It says, uh…this is the ‘LilNub.’”

There were some giggles and chuckles coming from behind me. I still felt like I was missing something and I stared at the box harder. Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“That’s right! It’s your little chastity cage. What do you think? Ready to slip it on? Ready to be fully under Mommy’s control?”

It was something that had been in the back of my mind since she first mentioned it to me. I had always known what the cage entailed, and symbolized. Hell, I had even fantasized about such control being imposed on me by her. But holding it in my hands felt more real than it ever did before. This was real. This was really happening. And once it was on me, I was hers.

“Well?” she asked, still waiting for a response from me.

What else was there for me to say?

“Thank you so much, Mommy. I love it.”

Her face glowed as she smiled widely. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Well?” asked Ms. Tamberlin. “What are we waiting for? Lock that baby up.”

“Is that what everyone wants?” Ms. Heller asked the rest of the room. “Should I lock him up? Right here, right now?”

Lyndie started it: “Lock him up!”

Mr. Morris and Mr. Yang joined in: “Lock him up!”

The rest of the assistants, even timid little Bradley, had joined in: “Lock him up!”

Ms. Tamberlin and Ms. Beaufort joined in: “Lock him up!”

And the entire room became a unified chorus: “Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!”

“And you,” Ms. Heller said to me. “What do you want?”

I was sure that she knew the answer. Everyone in the room probably did. But I said it anyway.

“Lock me up. I’m yours.” 

[D503]

Awesome season!

[eliminster]

Awesome chapter, I am sorta wishing Lyndie ends up in pullups to represent her middle level and all the assistants get into diapers now that their is a designated changer available.

[Babypants]

Terrific first season.  One has to wonder how the senior management team was put together.  It can't be a coincidence that Heller and crew all share the same extracurricular interests.   

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Welcome back, friends. Thus begins Season 2: Business Trip. While our story starts in familiar places, with familiar people, there are some new places to see and new friends to meet throughout the course of this arc. I hope you enjoy it.

And while I don't demand it, if you dig what I'm doing and want to read more of my stories, I do have a Patreon, where I'm posting multiple stories a month that are exclusive to just that platform. Supporting me there helps make stories like this possible, and so it'd mean a lot to me if you dropped by and checked it out.

 

Nineteen

From: Human Resources <hr-services@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Monday, March 28 at 9:00 AM

To: All Employees

Cc:

Subject: Promotions

Hi Team,

Happy Monday, everyone! Please help me in extending congratulations to some of your teammates, whose exemplary work has earned them promotions.

• Clark Ashburn has been promoted from his internship to Executive Assistant, reporting directly to CEO Gabrielle Heller.
• Lyndie Brown has been promoted from her internship to Special Projects Coordinator, reporting to the executive team.

Clark and Lyndie, congratulations! We are very excited to see what great things lie ahead for you on our team.

***

Every once in a while I’d pinch myself or stomp on my own foot–just to see if I’d jostle myself from a deep slumber. I sometimes wondered if I’d wake up back in a world where I was still a lowly intern and I had never met the CEO. In fact, when I asked about Gabrielle Heller, I’d be told that nobody by that name ever existed.

It wasn’t that I wanted it to be a dream. But things had become so extreme–so quickly–that it sometimes seemed like the only explanation.

Alas, the crinkling in my pants seemed real. The chastity device secured around my cock most certainly felt real.

This was reality now.

The last few days–the weekend that followed my initiation into the office’s strange kink-cult–had been a bit of a blur for me. I had spent most of the time cooped up in my apartment, cycling through every emotion possible. Shame and regret. Then humiliation. Then excitement and pleasure. Followed soon after by worry and concern. And somewhere around that point, the cycle would start all over again.

I was exhausted.

I read HR’s company-wide memo on my phone as I stepped off the elevator and walked back towards The Closet. This was it. My new position was official.

The door to The Closet wasn’t budging.

“Did you forget already?” a voice asked from behind me. Ava.

“Good morning,” I said, bashfully waving. It was still hard to look her in the eyes–we shared a secret shame, and I still had no idea how to just candidly talk about it at the office.

“I think this room has gone back to just being a closet,” she said. “You have a new desk now.”

“Oh, right,” I said, scratching my head.

Ms. Heller–Mommy, as I was to call her when it made sense to–had mentioned my new desk to me before we broke for the weekend, but somewhere in my emotional cycle I seemed to have forgotten about that.

“Come on,” Ava said. “I’ll show you.”

I didn’t actually need Ava to show me where my new desk was. Ms. Heller had been rather clear that it would be directly in front of her office, and I was sure that the plan hadn’t changed any. Still, I followed Ava anyway, finding myself staring at her bottom as we walked. Her plaid skirt reminded me of the uniforms the Catholic school girls used to wear in my neighborhood when I was younger. It was cute–by design, no doubt. Was this how Ms. Beaufort preferred that she dressed, or was this Ava’s choice? There was so little between her diaper and the eyes of everyone else in the office.

I glanced at some of the employees that we walked past. So many people. So many cubicles. So many faces that looked completely unfamiliar to me. It only served to reiterate the stakes of the game that we were playing. All these people, and they were somehow oblivious to what was going on? It seemed unsustainable. Someday, if it hadn’t happened already, someone was going to find out something they shouldn’t have. And then what?

The very thought almost gave me a panic attack. I took some deep breaths and trudged forward. Whatever Ms. Heller and her friends were doing to keep this under wraps must’ve been working enough so that they could keep doing it.

“You alright?” Ava asked, perhaps hearing my heavy breathing.

“Overwhelmed,” I said, being a little more honest than I had intended to be.

She laughed. “You’ll be okay.”

“Do you know where Lyndie is?” I asked. “I assume she has a new desk too.”

“I assume so too,” she said. “I’m not completely sure where it would be though. But I can find out for you.”

I liked Ava, and I could see what Ms. Beaufort saw in her–she was dedicated and trustworthy. A loyal puppy.

“I could probably just ask Ms. Heller too,” I said.

I found myself missing Lyndie almost as much as I was missing Mommy. She had become a close friend, and quite possibly the only person I could talk to about these things candidly. But I hadn’t been all that great of a friend the past weekend–ignoring a number of her text messages checking in on me.

I hoped to see her today, if for no other reason so that I could apologize.

“Here you are,” Ava said, pointing to the desk. It was exactly where I thought it’d be–directly in front of Ms. Heller’s office.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course.”

“Do you, uh, want to go get some breakfast with me?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little desperate for some sort of companionship.

“I wish I could,” she said. “Mommy…er…Ms. Beaufort is, uhm, feeding me this morning.”

Oh right. I recalled the taste of Ms. Beaufort’s breastmilk on my tongue. If Ava gets to experience that everyday, she’s a very lucky girl.

“Enjoy that,” I say.

She giggles a little behind her hand. “I always do. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

“Oh, Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy you’ve joined us,” Ava said. She doesn’t specify who ‘us’ is, but she doesn’t have to.

“I am too.”

I’m pretty sure I mean that.

My new cubicle disappoints me a little. While I do like where it’s located, it feels far too exposed for someone in…my position. I’m used to The Closet. Secrecy and a locking door. Instead, I feel like I’m on display.

I sat down in my new chair for the first time, finding it to be much firmer than my old one. My diaper crinkles loudly as I lower myself into it, suggesting that this was a chair was picked out by Ms. Heller herself.

Of course, to be reminded of my diaper is to be reminded of my chastity. Its presence still feels alien to me.Not only haven’t I gotten used to it, but it feels like I’ll never truly adjust. I just feel it at all times. The way it constricts. The weight of it, hanging between my legs. The awkward discomfort I feel when my cock even attempts to grow a little stiffer.

I can recall entire weeks where I didn’t masturbate. It wasn’t even something I planned for–I would just get busy with life and suddenly I’d realize that it’s been a while since I last touched myself. But now, starting just my fourth day in the cage, all I can think about is masturbating.

What’s that song? You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone.

Lyndie would have loved to hear me say that. She’d get a good laugh out of it.

“Settling in, I see,” a new voice said.

It’s Ms. Heller herself. Mommy.

“Y-yes,” I said, standing up suddenly like I had to salute her. “Good morning.”

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

That’s certainly a tricky question. “Yes…”

“Come join me in my office. We should go over a few things. Your new responsibilities, for one. But also, the current state of your d–”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Let’s go talk about that, uh, in your office.”

I follow her inside so that she can close, and lock, the door.

“First thing’s first,” she said. “I assume that you got the shipment of diapers I sent to your house without incident?”

“Uh, y-yes, Mommy,” I replied. Evan had been the one to receive them, of course. Just as he had wasted little time in texting me that my new diapers had arrived–throwing in a few humiliating infantile-themed emojis for good measure.

“And you were a good boy who wore his diapers all weekend?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“And what about this morning’s diaper?” she asked. “Is it ready to be changed?”

“I…I haven’t…”

But she was already checking for herself. My belt was suddenly unbuckled and my pants were falling to the ground–as tended to happen when I was around her.

“Still dry,” she mused aloud. “I’m a little disappointed, if I’m being honest. I was hoping you’d come back to work today with a real disaster of a diaper for me.”

“I changed before I came to work,” I said.

I already knew this was going to be an issue. I had even told myself the night before that I’d leave my diaper on in the morning until I got to work. And what was the first thing I had done this morning? Changed my diaper. Without a second thought–like it was a completely normal part of my morning routine.

“Well then,” she said. “Let’s put that at the top of the list of things for you to do today. I’m going to need to see a dirty diaper by lunchtime.”

“D-dirty?”

“I’d have accepted just a wet diaper if that’s what you came to work with,” she said. “But coming into my office, first thing in the morning, with a dry diaper? Well, I’m going to need to see more commitment to your new role than that. A better ROI, if you know what I mean.”

“So you want me to…”

“Fill your pampers? Yes, that’s right. You owe me a stinky load in the back of your diaper, young man.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Oh, Clark. You’ve been such a good little boy so far,” she said, giving my diapered ass a firm swat. “I doubt you’d want to let me down. So let’s not even worry about silly things like consequences. You just focus on the task at hand. I’m sure you’ll get this project done.”

“You, uhm, also said that you wanted to go over my duties and responsibilities as your assistant?”

“I did say that,” she said, arms crossed in front of her. “But I worry about giving you too much to do so soon–especially when you’re not even able to do something as simple as not changing your own diaper before coming to work. So, instead, you only have the one task this morning.”

“My diaper?”

She nodded. “Exactly. You work on making a smelly diaper for Mommy, okay? And you come back and see me when you’re all done.”

“By…lunchtime?” I asked.

“Exactly. Now, off you go.”

I slowly began to turn back towards the door to her office, only to be reminded by the awkward tension at my feet that my pants were still pulled down.

Ms. Heller laughed, clearly delighted by my foolishness. “It’s like watching an actual toddler sometimes.”

My pants were pulled back up and buckled into place, once again sealing my diaper.

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said, stepping towards me again. Her hand reached between my legs, cupping the front of the diaper. I could feel her gently squeezing on my cage through the diaper. “I’m happy to see this is still in its proper place. I suppose you haven’t forgotten that it’s been there, hmm?”

“No, Mommy.”

“And how do you feel about it so far?”

“It’s…” I was at a loss for words. Did I put on a stoic show and tell her that I was dealing with it just fine thus far? Or did I tell her the truth–that I was already reeling from having been cut off from touching myself? “...a new experience. That’s for sure.”

“I bet,” she said, playfully biting her bottom lip. “Obviously it’s nothing I can experience for myself. But I’ve heard what others have said about being all locked up like that. I understand that it can be quite uncomfortable at times.”

I thought back on my secluded weekend, and how if it weren’t for the cage, I’d likely have masturbated my way through my time alone. Instead, I spent a lot of time trying to adapt to the tightness of the device when I started to get excited again.

“It can be,” I said.

“And, being the excitable little boy that you are, I’m sure it doesn’t take much to get you all riled up.”

“N-no, Mommy.”

For the second time that morning, she unfastened my belt and let my pants tumble to the ground again, leaving me standing before her in my diaper. She rubbed the front of the diaper, focusing on the hard area where my caged cock was helplessly stationed. I wanted to get hard, very badly. I felt myself straining against the metal cage.

“So I’m sure that this isn’t helping at all,” she said.

I shook my head.

“And what if I did this?”

She reached down to her knees, where the hem of her dark gray dress hung. She grabbed the cloth and pulled it straight up, revealing that she was not wearing any panties at all. A clean strip of womanly pubic hair seemed to point right into glistening lips.

“Mm,” a short moan squeezed its way out from my mouth.

As one hand held up her dress, the other slowly slid down her body and between her legs. Her fingers lingered for a moment, seeming to tease the possibility of whether or not she was going to actually touch herself.

And then she did. At first, it was just her middle finger that she eased into herself–summoning a long slow groan from herself. I watched that lone finger slide out of her, clearly wet now, before it was plunged back in. I watched her do this a few times.

“Does that–mmm–help your little cock?” she asked.

The cage had never felt as tight as it did at that moment. I felt as if my manhood was about to expand with such ferocity that it would obliterate the cage. Like the Incredible Hulk’s cock in a chastity device–or at least that’s what I was imagining.

But I wouldn’t be busting out of my cage, no matter how turned on I was.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Look at me, turning myself on. I just wanted to tease you a little. But now I’ve got it in my head that I need a good fuck. I really wish you could help me with that, Baby.”

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what response I could possibly offer beyond begging for her to unlock me. Which I was sure she wouldn’t do.

“God, wouldn’t you just love that?” she asked. “If I let you fuck me?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.” I cracked a little, my patheticness showing through as I added: “Please?”

“Oh, I’m afraid I couldn’t allow for that. I mean, for one, that cock is staying in its cage. But could you even imagine me allowing someone in a diaper to fuck me?” She laughed, shaking her head while her fingers–two of them now–continued to slowly slip in and out of her. “That’s just not going to happen.”

My hand grasped the front of my diaper, hopelessly rubbing my contained manhood–as if I had a chance of somehow releasing myself by sheer determination alone.

“But I could give you a little treat,” she said.

“A…treat?”

“Obviously, I can’t let you actually fuck me. But I could give you a little glimpse as to what that might be like.”

I said nothing, simultaneously nervous and uncertain about what she meant.

She turned and walked over to her desk. She leaned forward, placing her palms on the top of it, before bending over so that her perfect ass popped up into the air.

“Come here,” she said.

I did as she asked, stepping out of my slacks and walking behind her.

“Lift up my dress. All the way up.”

I did as she asked, her bare ass just inches from my diaper.

“Come forward,” she instructed. “Press your little cocklette against me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. Cage or no cage, I had an instinctual need to have her body pressed against mine. I took one step forward, guiding my diapered and caged cock into the moist warmth between her legs.

She did all the work, her body immediately beginning to grind against my diaper. It was amazing to watch her at work–she moved with such grace. I could only imagine what it’d have been like if I was allowed to be out of the cage. Out of the diaper. My cock deep inside of her.

“Put your hands on my hips,” she said. “Go on and try humping my ass like you weren’t just a little baby boy.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I pathetically rubbed my padded crotch against her, while she simultaneously ground herself against the caged lump within it. It became quite evident that she was managing to get herself off by rubbing herself against my useless manhood.

“That’s…that’s perfect,” she said between moans. “Oh, little boy, you have no idea what you’re missing.”

I was pretty sure I did.

“I want you to–unnnh–think about this later when you’re pushing a stinky mess into your diaper, okay? Think about how close you are to my perfect pussy while you’re filling your pants up.”

Oh, that won’t be a problem.

At last, her body pulled away from mine as she let out a few final moans. I’d heard those specific moans before–when she rode my face like it was a bicycle. She had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“There we go,” she said, laughing to herself. “That’s what I needed. Like a morning cup of coffee, you know?”

She straightened herself out, letting her dress fall back into place, covering up her shapely ass so quickly, its exposure suddenly seemed like a fever dream I had briefly.

She cleared her throat and stretched, a wide smile on her face. “Now then. I’ve got some things to do. As do you. You remember your task, yes?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” I said, still a little shellshocked as I stood there, looking down at the glistening wetness she left on the front of my diaper.

“And, what was that task?”

“I, uhm, have to…mess my diaper? By lunchtime.”

“Good boy,” she cooed. “Now run along. I look forward to seeing you later.”

I pulled up my pants and slowly shuffled out of her office. One would think that the prospect of coordinating a moment to use my diaper in the office would be at the forefront of my mind, but no. I was still thinking about my hands on her hips, my diaper rubbing against her.

I’d probably be thinking about that for a long time.

[dyperaby]

♥

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Twenty

Ted Lemire.

I have no idea who he is. I don’t know what his job title is. I don’t know how long he’s worked here. But I walk past his desk about five times a day, everyday. And every time I see him, he looks absolutely stressed out. His monitors look like abstract art, with charts and graphs zig zagging in all directions. Documents and file folders litter his cubicle. I never see him taking a break. He’s just always at his desk. Working. Stressing.

And there I was, sitting at my cubicle with nothing to do.

Well, just about nothing. I had a task–but it didn’t require my computer. Or paperwork.

I wondered what would happen if Ted Lemire and I had a chat. Maybe we’d meet at the watercooler one day and he’d get to venting about how overloaded he was. He’d talk about how much work there was to do, and so little time to do it. The company was working him too hard, and they weren’t paying him well enough.

“But enough about me,” he’d say. “Are they keeping you busy right now?”

“Well…not especially. Honestly, the only thing I’ve got on the docket today is to poop my pants by lunchtime. So…I guess I’m working on that right now.”

Ted Lemire, a man who was clearly working himself to the bone, would probably punch me in the face.

Note to self: Maybe don’t engage in any conversations with Ted.

I kept thinking about Ted as I sat in my cubicle, staring into space because I had so little to do. There were hundreds of Teds in this building, as best as I could tell. And then there was me. Literally just sitting around until I worked up the nerve to push a mess into the seat of my pants.

I was conflicted. It didn’t seem very fair…but wasn’t this the dream? Well. A fucked-up kinky version of the dream. But a dream regardless.

“Well, well,” a voice said, interrupting my ethical quandary. I knew that voice quite well–Lyndie. I almost leaped out of my chair, excited to see her. “Look who I’ve found.”

“Lyndie,” I said, standing up. “I…I’m sorry I wasn’t very good about getting back to your texts this weekend. I had a lot going on and…”

“Shush,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Where’s your desk?” I asked. “Are you seated somewhere around here now too?”

Lyndie laughed, blushing a little. “Oh…you didn’t hear?”

“Hear?” I asked. “Hear what?”

“They didn’t give me a cubicle.”

“What? That doesn’t seem right. Where are you supposed to work? Do they just expect you to wander the halls aimlessly now until you’re needed for something?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, silly. I don’t have a cubicle because…I got an office.”

“A-an office?” I was completely flabbergasted. “But…just last week we were interns. And now you have an office?”

She laughed again, shrugging. “Seems kinda surreal, huh?”

“But how? Why?”

“I guess the powers-that-be had been advocating for a…” her tone dropped a little as she leaned in towards me, “...nursery for a little while. And now they have one, which doubles as my office.”

I thought of poor Ted Lemire again, toiling away for who-knows-how-long at his cubicle.

“It makes sense,” Lyndie said. “The logistics of changing stinky diapers in the executives’ offices were quite challenging. And now, there’s a place for that–separated from where the wrong person might see or smell something they shouldn’t.”

“I can’t believe they’ve gone this long without something like that,” I said.

“Better late than never,” she replied, shrugging. “Anyhoo, I heard about the little project Gabrielle has you working on this morning.”

“Y-you know about that? She told you?”

“Well she didn’t just directly say that to me. It was just in a memo she sent to the rest of the executive team.”

“Wait, what? She sent out a memo? To…multiple people? What exactly did she say?”

“Nothing much–she just detailed your itinerary today.”

“But she didn’t give me anything to do except…”

“You have a tight deadline,” she said. “Lunch, right? Think you’ll be able to fill that diaper by then?”

“S-she told everyone about that?”

Lyndie nodded.

My cheeks felt red. Actually, they felt like they were on fire. Given everything that I had experienced recently–especially that little ceremony in the conference room last week–nothing should’ve surprised me. But the idea of memos being sent out to a group of people, without my knowledge, talking about the dirty little tasks that Ms. Heller had given me? It made my heart want to pound right out of my chest.

“I know it’s embarrassing,” she said. “But it’s not like you’re the only one they talk about. Neve Beaufort, for example, shared some photos of her feeding Ava this morning. I’d argue that’s just as humiliating, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose,” I said. Was that more humiliating than everyone knowing that I had a limited amount of time to fill my diaper? I didn’t think so, but maybe Ava would’ve said the same thing about her embarrassment.

“So?” Lyndie asked, a playful look on her face. “How’s your, uh, job going?”

“Oh, it’s, uhm…”

“I’m going to assume it hasn’t happened yet. For obvious reasons.”

I shook my head.

“Tick tock, Clark.”

“I know, I know.”

“Think you’ll be done in time?”

I had been wondering the same thing myself. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be a problem. ‘Lunchtime’ seemed ill-defined, but assuming that it was noon, I had about an hour to go. And I certainly had–for lack of better phrasing–a bullet loaded in the chamber, ready to go. My body had expected my morning constitutional by now, and the fact that I hadn’t gone yet was being responded to with some occasional cramping in my belly.

It was more of a psychological thing. Obviously, it wouldn’t be the first time I messed my diaper at work. But this still felt different. I wasn’t alone with Mommy in her office. I wasn’t locked in The Closet while a suppository took away my agency. I was out in the open now, and my diaper wasn’t going to get used unless I could bring myself to use it.

“Maybe,” I finally answered.

“You can do it,” she said, smiling. “I believe in you.”

In the context of what we were talking about, her faith in me seemed absurd. Still, I needed to hear that–just as I needed to see her again.

“Thank you.”

“And how about your, uhm, cage?” she asked. “How is that going?”

That seemed to be the topic du jour, though it wasn’t hard to see why.

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Perhaps nobody else besides Ms. Heller could appreciate my plight as much as Lyndie. She’d changed the worst of my diapers, and she had seen for herself how turned that had made me.

“It’s an adjustment, for sure,” I said.

“I bet. But it’ll be good for you.”

“You think? How so?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Just think of how great it’ll be when she finally unlocks you.”

“I suppose,” I said, looking down as my cheeks warmed. “If she chooses to unlock me.”

“I’m sure she will. Eventually.”

Eventually. That could be today. Or next week. Or…a year from now. My stomach twisted, just thinking about being stuck in this thing for the next few months with no hope of relief.

“Well I should get going,” she said. “I promised Nancy that I’d go check on Bradley for her. She decided to start diaper-training him. You know, now that I’m around to do the diaper changes.”

“Good luck with that.”

She laughed. “If you think you’re timid, you ought to see him. I swear, the little wimp should’ve been in diapers years ago.”

And just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone again, leaving me to my own devices–sitting at my new cubicle, pondering the hows and whens of pooping my pants.

I felt the slightest ache in my bladder, and I decided that this was as good a place to start as any. I was getting used to wetting my diaper. It was starting to feel normal. With just the slightest amount of effort, I could feel the warm wetness hitting the padding and spreading throughout the front of the diaper.

Regardless of how normal it was starting to seem, it still felt good. Great, even. It was hard to pinpoint the reason why, but wetting myself while in the chastity cage seemed to enhance the pleasure I got from it. My best guess as to why was that it just held my cock in the perfect position to saturate the diaper–but it was just as likely that it simply felt naughtier while caged.

It was easy–too easy, perhaps–to get lost in that moment. I suddenly remembered I was in the office, in my cubicle, still. People were scurrying around, doing actual work. Ted Lemire was probably neck-deep in tasks at his desk. And there I was, reeling in the pleasure of a soaked diaper.

Calm down. Let’s not make a big scene about this… Easy for me to say, considering that I was seconds away from grinding my torso back and forth in my office chair to rub against my wet diaper.

A little too self-conscious, I scrambled to at least try and look like I was being productive. I opened a few windows on my computer and stared at my screen like I was in the midst of some project.

Nothing to see here, co-workers. Just a normal working-man doing my job.

But wetting my diaper had done more than just making my pants warmer. It seemed to have sent a signal to the rest of my body that it was time to empty out everything. The stress in my bowels seemed to have doubled–tripled–in the last few minutes.

It wouldn’t take much for me to just push everything into my diaper. I had no doubt that I could do it, and do it quickly. The challenge was in the timing. If I was to do it now, could I just waltz into Ms. Heller’s office and proclaim that I needed a change? Or would she cast me out, telling me to return at ‘lunch?’ What then? Run around the building in a smelly diaper for the next however-long until she was ready to change me?

Or, I could play it safe and wait until it was actually lunch, load my diaper then, and then report to her.

Though… Maybe she’d see that as me cutting it a little too close. She didn’t ask me to fill my diaper at lunchtime–she asked me to do it before.

I took a deep breath in an effort to center myself. I knew what had to be done, and there probably wasn’t any better time than the present.

I glanced over to Ms. Heller’s office. The door was closed. Maybe that meant she was busy or in a meeting. Or maybe she just wanted her door closed. But I was pretty sure she was alone. I’d have seen if someone walked into her office, right? Had I been that distracted by wetting myself.

No. I was pretty sure that she was alone in her office. Sure enough.

The plan was rather simple: Mess my diaper and then burst into Ms. Heller’s office to show her what I had done. Ideally, I’d accomplish all of this within less than half a minute. I wasn’t sure how long I could dally on the office floor in a dirty diaper before others could smell what I did, but it couldn’t have been long. Perhaps even 30 seconds was too much time.

Just focus. You can do this.

I looked around again. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help myself. This was different. There were people around me. People I didn’t know. People who didn’t know me. People who I might one day know if I stuck around with this company. And could there be a worse reputation to have than ‘the new guy who pooped his pants?’

You’re overthinking this.

I wasn’t the first person this ever happened to in this building, I knew that. Hillary–Ms. Heller’s last ‘assistant.’ She too had been kept in diapers. And there’s no way that, at some point, she hadn’t been expected to fill her diapers per Ms. Heller’s request. Right?

But Hillary isn’t here anymore. And you’d have to wonder why that is. Was there a line she wasn’t willing to cross?

Another deep breath. I needed to stop thinking about it and just do it. I had a simple plan, and it seemed best to stick to it. The sooner it was done, the sooner I could see Ms. Heller. And the sooner I saw Ms. Heller, the sooner I could get a change.

I took one last glance around. The immediate area around me seemed quiet enough. There probably wasn’t going to be a better time than this. And so…

Here we go.

I pushed. Everything rushed out of me and into the diaper, all at once. It was much louder than I had expected it to be, a wet ripple that seemed to cut right through the local noise of shuffling papers, footsteps, and keyboards clacking.

The mess itself–a soft mush with seemingly no shape or form–instantly filled the diaper, squelching its way into every available nook and cranny.

From my vantage point, it couldn’t have been more obvious what happened. And for an incredibly hazy moment, I was unsure if the world around me had stopped to see what I had done or not.

But I heard the click-clack of typing. People talking about reports. Footsteps of people walking past my cubicle.  Nobody was coming to investigate. Nobody was asking me if I was alright. Nobody was standing up in the middle of the office and loudly proclaiming that someone has just shit their pants.

I shifted a little in my office chair, feeling the gooey mess squish and contort between my body and the padding. I really wished that I hadn’t done that–the feeling between my legs had been as delightful as it was disgusting. I felt my helpless cock straining in my cage as I fought against the temptation to just continue shifting back and forth in my dirt diaper.

Alright. The hard part was done. Now, to show Ms. Heller that I had completed my task.

I was actually proud of myself. The very first task I was given by Mommy, and I absolutely crushed it–as evidenced by the thick mass that was causing my diaper to sag within my pants.

But I had to move now. It had only been seconds–certainly less than the half-minute I had planned for–and I could already begin to smell the putrid fumes wafting from my pants. I started walking, finding that the swampy diaper had reduced my stride to a pathetic waddle. My pace was quick, but careful, trying to mitigate sloshing around the mess I had made more than I had to.

I lifted my hand to knock on Ms. Heller’s door, but I opted against it at the last moment. I was her assistant. Sure, maybe she kept me in diapers and treated me like a literal infant–but she still entrusted me with the title. If anyone could barge into her office, let it be me.

I quickly opened the door and rushed inside, closing the door behind me.

I immediately went into it: “Mommy, I did it. Just as you asked. It took me a while. But…well…I did exactly what you wanted me to do and…”

I trailed off at the end, as I turned around from the door to see that Ms. Heller wasn’t alone. Sitting down on the other side of the desk was Ms. Beaufort herself. Both looked absolutely delighted to see me.

I panicked, turning back towards the door again. “M-maybe I should come back later.”

“No, no,” Ms. Heller said. “Please, Baby, come over here.”

My heart beat like a jackhammer as I slowly turned back towards the women.

“Now then,” Ms. Heller continued. “What were you saying? What did you accomplish?”

“M-my task,” I said, looking towards Ms. Beaufort nervously. “The one…you asked me to do.”

“And could you please remind me what that specific task was?” she asked. “I think Ms. Beaufort would be curious herself.”

“I…well…”

“Go on, sweetpea,” cooed Ms. Beaufort. I couldn’t help but glance down at her chest for just the briefest of moments.

“I…used my diaper like you asked me to.”

“Used?” Ms. Heller asked. “Be more specific.”

“I…messed my diaper.”

“Oh,” Ms. Beaufort said, voice rich with mock-astonishment. “Is that what that smell is?”

“It would seem so,” Ms. Heller said, playing along. “Maybe the little baby ought to come closer so that we can have a closer look.”

I sighed, waddling towards Mommy–already knowing where this was headed. Ms. Beaufort would just be the latest on a growing list of people who had been exposed to my dirty diapers.

And, meanwhile, Ted Lemire was somewhere on the other side of the office door–working his ass off.

 

[quietlyhumiliated]

 

Twenty-One

Mommy’s hands were on my belt. Not for the first time that day, and likely not the last either. She knew her way around my pants by now. Maybe she knew her way around pants in general. A practiced skill set coming from years of turning her assistants into big babies.

Actually, I had no idea how many babies there were. Maybe it was just Hillary and I. I would have loved to sit down with Hillary. We could exchange notes and experiences. She could tell me all about her time in Ms. Heller’s care and…

The sounds of my pants falling to the floor snapped me out of my head.

“Well, let’s see what we have here,” Ms. Heller said, pressing on my full diaper with her hand. “Seems quite heavy.”

“It certainly smells heavy,” Ms. Beaufort said from the other side of the desk.

“But you’re no stranger to messy diapers, yes?” Ms. Heller asked her.

“You’d be surprised at the foul things my darling Ava can do in her diaper,” Ms. Beaufort replied, cracking up both women.

I felt the pang of secondhand embarrassment while listening to them laugh about the poor girl’s diaper. But it also made me wonder what Ms. Heller said about me when I wasn’t around.

The very thought made my face feel incredibly warm.

“I’ve smelled her ripe bottom before,” Ms. Heller said, leaning in towards my diaper to take a good whiff. “And I’m telling you right now–this little stinker makes her seem like a heavenly flower.”

If I could’ve melted through the floor, I’d have done it at that moment.

“Well you’re not going to change the dirty little prince in here, are you?” asked Ms. Beaufort.

“Are you suggesting we…”

“We finally have that new office. The nursery. You ought to take him over there–if only so you can breathe easier in here later.”

“A fine point,” Ms. Heller said, standing. “You see, Baby? This is why I consider Neve one of my best friends and associates. Let's take a little stroll to the nursery.”

I nodded sheepishly as I bent over to pull my pants back up over my diaper. It looked like I was about to be on the move again–dragging my smelly pants through more public spaces.

“Will you be joining us?” Ms. Heller asked Ms. Beaufort.

“I should check on my own baby girl,” Ms. Beaufort said nonchalantly. With a playful grin, she added: “But you’ll have to tell me what you think of the nursery. Maybe share some pics?”

“Splendid idea,” Ms. Heller said, before turning back to me. “Now then, let’s be on our way before you further contaminate the floor.”

I pulled my pants up and we were soon on the move. I expected a more casual stroll from her as I followed her through the office floor, but she seemed to have just as much pep in her step as I wanted her to have. I could only assume that she knew better than anyone else that for as exciting as leading me around in my current state was, we were always at risk of exposing ourselves to the wrong person.

“Come,” she said as she briskly walked ahead of me. “Keep up. We mustn’t be slow.”

I did my best, putting my waddle into overdrive–feeling the insides of my diaper further squish and spread about in the limited space as I trotted behind her.

It occurred to me that I knew the path we were taking. I recognized some of these cubicles. There, for example, was Ted Lemire’s desk. This was the path I had taken when I’d come to Ms. Heller’s office from The Closet.

And sure enough, we were suddenly standing before the door to The Closet.

“Here?” I asked as Ms. Heller scanned a key tag at a new sensor near the door.

“Looks familiar, yes?”

“Is this…the n–”

“Come inside,” she said. “See for yourself.”

I stepped inside, the door closing behind us. There was an electronic tick in the door, suggesting that the door was locked automatically. Once again, we were sealed off from the rest of the office.

I almost didn’t recognize this room as The Closet that Lyndie and I had spent our days together in–as briefly as that time in our careers here that was. It seemed bigger, for one, but I think that was mostly because of the large table that was once here was gone. Now, on one side of the room was a modestly sized office desk–with a smiling Lyndie sitting behind it–and on the other side was a large piece of furniture with a padded top that looked an awful lot like a…

“Changing table,” I said aloud.

“It’s nice, right?” Ms. Heller asked. “I actually had this made when Hillary was working here. A shame we never had the chance to use it before she left the company. So, you know, it’s just been sitting around in storage for a while. Until now.”

A changing table, sized for adults. It shouldn’t have been so surprising to me–if anyone could’ve made such a thing happen, it’d have been Ms. Heller.

“We have a ways to go for this to be a true nursery,” Ms. Heller added. “But Lyndie’s first task is to help us acquire a crib. And I trust that she won’t let me down.”

“I’ve already put out some emails to vendors and craftsmen,” Lyndie said. She then turned to me, her face twisting into a more sour expression. “Hello Clark. I think I can guess why you’re here.”

“He simply completed his assignment,” Ms. Heller said, giving my full diaper a playful swat. “But if you ask me, he seems to have gone above and beyond.”

“Well,” said Lyndie, standing up at her desk and motioning towards the changing table. “You’ll find that I’ve stocked the baby’s changing station with everything a mommy might need. Wipes. Powder. A little bin of toys, should the baby need a little distraction. There’s the new diaper bin too–which should seal up the old stinky diapers quite well.”

“You’re a saint,” Ms. Heller responded.

“Just doing my job,” Lyndie said, confidently smiling.

“I do hope that you’re still smiling,” Ms. Heller said, “once you’re inundated with babies in need of getting their diapers changed.”

Lyndie laughed. “Me too.”

“But you,” Ms. Heller said to me. “Let's clean up the little disaster you’ve got tucked away in that diaper.”

For what may have been the 423rd time that day, my pants were dropped to the ground and I stepped out of them–once again bottomless in the office.

“I swear, if we’re going to spend this much time taking your pants off everyday, you should just have to go without them. Save us all some time.”

I blushed, swallowing hard at the thought of being made to toddle around the office in just a diaper and button-up shirt. And once we were on that slippery slope, what was to prevent her from just insisting that I didn’t wear clothes at all?

Sometimes, it seemed for the best that we were still in an office where such things were frowned upon.

Ms. Heller turned me around to show my drooping bottom to Lyndie. “Do you see this? Do you see what he did in his diaper?”

“That’s…quite the load.”

“But do you see this?” Ms. Heller asked, her fingers pointing to something on the back of the diaper. “See how dark the diaper is here? That’s his mess. And look at how high it goes.”

“Oh wow,” Lyndie said. “It’s almost to the top of the diaper. The waistband.”

“Exactly. We were so close to a blowout. And can you just imagine the disaster that would’ve been? We probably would’ve had to have burned his clothing.”

I had no clue how serious she was about the possibility of burning my clothing, and I was afraid to ask.

Lyndie giggled a little. “I’m, uhm, assuming that you’re taking care of this diaper?”

“This one is all mine,” Ms. Heller said. “I’d like to change as many as I can, of course. Diaper changes are an important time for mommies and babies to bond–and I wouldn’t want to deprive him of that. But there will undoubtedly be times when I’m just not able to get this one’s stinky diaper in time. And that’s when I’ll be calling on you.”

“Of course,” Lyndie said. “But…if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to bail on this change. I think I’d much rather grab some fresh air and coffee.”

Ms. Heller laughed. “Very well. But if it’s the smell you’re trying to avoid, plan on being out of the nursery for a while.”

“Works for me,” Lyndie said with a shrug. “See you later, Clark. Have fun.”

I offer a meek wave to her as she departs us–it’s hard to maintain any sort of dignity while my exposed and sagging diaper continues to pollute the room.

“Now then,” Ms. Heller says. “Shall we clean your bottom?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” I said, nodding.

“Hop up onto the table, then.”

In the unlikely situation that I would be asked if the diaper changes I had experienced so far were infantile enough, I’d have answered with a very certain “Of course.” For one, not only was I in need of a diaper change, but it was someone else who was changing the diaper for me. But also, it was a matter of where the diaper had been changed. On the floor. On a couch. On a table. Any surface could become the site for a diaper change at a moment’s notice, and it reminded me of watching actual parents with actual infants. Did the baby have an accident? No worries, just put them down there–anywhere–and deal with it.

And that had been me. The hapless baby who could be tossed onto any surface for a diaper change if needed. And I found that to be a pleasurably humiliating experience.

But this? Being eased onto my back on the large changing table by Mommy? Nothing had ever felt like this before. Unlike a table or my boss’s carpet, this was a piece of furniture made specifically for babies. For once, Ms. Heller didn’t have to adapt and make the best with what she had available. No–this was a table that had no other purpose than to hold a baby with a dirty diaper on.

Nothing I had experienced so far–not even being made to traverse a gauntlet of ass-smackers and breast-feeders–had made me feel so small. The weight of this realization seemed to pin me to the table, rendering my arms and legs into jelly.

“Aww,” she cooed, looking down at me. “Look at you. So docile and well behaved.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but could only force out a meaningless “Buh…”

“Oh, you know the rules. We can’t just leave the Baby babbling here while Mommy takes care of your diaper. Here’s your pacifier.”

The soft rubber bulb was pressed into my mouth once again, further cementing the infantile headspace I was finding myself in.

Headspace. The word resonated with me. It reminded me of when I had been sent home in my first diaper, and I spent hours pouring over the internet. I had seen references to this idea of babyspace–a seemingly genuine mental regression. Not just looking like a baby. Not just acting like a baby. But feeling like an actual baby.

I had brushed the concept aside before. It wasn’t that I was dismissive of it, I just wasn’t sure that it was a space I could see myself reaching. At least, not any time soon.

Suddenly, it felt like there was something to that. I felt small. Helpless. Needing.

“Let’s see what sort of mess Baby’s left for me in his diaper,” Ms. Heller said. She wasn’t talking to me, but she was talking about me, and that only helped to shrink me further.

Fuck. I wanted to be the greatest, smallest, baby who had ever lived.

I wondered if it was the chastity. With every other diaper change thus far, I had found myself consumed by lust and sexual desire. But that was off the table now. Sure, my cock strained against the metal cage–yearning for release. But for the first time, I felt like I was able to set that lust aside for a moment. I could appreciate, for the first time, just being a baby.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” she said as she began to peel up the tapes of the diaper. “But I like it.”

She pulled the diaper open, allowing a toxic cloud to immediately expand throughout the room. To the surprise of no one, of course. I was grateful that I didn’t have to look down and see the wasteland between my legs for myself.

Such was the life of a baby, I supposed. Lay waste to diapers all day and then let someone else take care of the rest.

“I regret allowing Lyndie to leave,” she said to nobody in particular. “I could’ve used a hand with this one.”

I suckled on the pacifier, looking up at the ceiling. I could hear the words she was saying, but none of them felt especially important to me.

“But I must admit,” she continued. “Even at your dirtiest–your stinkiest–I think you’re quite adorable. The cutest little thing.”

That, I heard. I moaned a little from behind the pacifier. Not as much a sexual noise as it was pure delight that she felt that way about me.

“Are you my cute little baby?” she cooed, tickling the bottom of my chin.

I giggled and squirmed. Later, thinking back on this moment, I’d cringe a little–unable to remember what it felt like to be so small in this moment.

“I thought so.” She continued on, rifling through the supplies on the shelves of the changing table. “Lyndie bought rubber gloves. Cute, right? I’m tempted to snag a pair for this particular diaper, but I’m also a fan of skin-to-skin contact. Maybe I’ll leave those for her.”

Yes. I needed those hands on me.

“A dirty diaper isn’t really as intimidating as everyone thinks it is,” she said. “It’s like any other problem in life. Or, maybe, every other problem in life is like a dirty diaper. See, all you need to do is break it into pieces, and resolve each of those smaller pieces. One at a time. Then, when you’ve solved all the small problems–you’ve actually solved the bigger problem.”

I was more interested in her tone than I was her words. The lovely melody of her voice–it was almost as if she was literally singing–put me at ease and made me feel light and comfortable.

And she did exactly as she said she’d do–she broke the catastrophic mess into smaller pieces. She started with my inner-thighs, slowly working her way around my crotch and midsection before actually delving into the epicenter of the disaster. One wipe at a time. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could hear each wipe being pulled from the package–and I heard the sound often. FWHIP.

“We’ll just clean up this little bit here…”

FWHIP.

“And here…”

FWHIP.

“And, I’ve got to be honest with you, I have no idea how you managed to get your dirty little business way over here…”

I was loving it. Having the option of sexual satisfaction taken off the table seemed–at least, momentarily–to be the best thing to happen yet in my short history of needing diapers again.

I’d feel different about it later, of course. I was sure of that. I’d have all the time in the world to mull over this moment. I’d replay it over and over again–from every vantage point and angle I could think of. I’d remember how it felt to have the cool moist wipes sliding over my skin. The smell of my putrid diaper mingling with the baby supplies in the nursery. The sound of Mommy’s voice as she provided her sing-song commentary.

FWHIP.

A moment like this could fuel years of personal erotic time. Yet I knew that this wasn’t the end-all-be-all of the thrills that came from being Ms. Heller’s assistant.

Mommy’s baby.

FWHIP.

Oh, for sure, there’d be more. More diaper changes. More teasing. More dressing-up. More being handed off to others, whose whims I knew even less about. More humiliation. More crushing embarrassment that I could only savor in hindsight.

More denial, too.

Goddamn. If this diaper change could only go on for another hour, I wondered if I could maybe get off from just thinking about it. No, probably not–that seemed like a level of zen reserved only for people who meditated or did yoga as a fulltime job. But the thought was nice.

FWHIP.

“I think this’ll do,” she cooed, her body still hovering above mine. “This is as clean of a bottom as you’re going to have without me giving you a bath.”

“Fank ou, Mommy,” I said through the pacifier. It was the most pathetically infantile my voice might have ever sounded.

“Such a good little boy,” she said, giving my locked cock a playful boop. “And do you see how easy that was to do when there wasn’t some ugly erection in the way?”

I nodded, feeling my cheeks flare. I knew exactly what she meant.

“Somebody’s looking out for you,” she continued, picking up something from the tables shelves. “Lyndie was kind enough to get baby powder, but I see that she got ‘unscented.’ A tad disappointing–though I’d have to concede that it’s probably a good call if you’re going to be walking around the office all day.”

It was the rare occasion in which she acknowledged, however slightly, the risk that came with our game. There were times when she–and the other executives playing along–seemed so eager to create humiliating circumstances, that they lost sight of how this could be viewed from any other employee who wasn’t involved. It was reassuring.

Also, I owed Lyndie a very tight hug.

“I have a question for you,” Ms. Heller said as she slid a fresh new diaper underneath me–effortlessly lifting my ass into the air for me like I was just a toddler. “I was debating whether or not I would ask–I’ve been afraid that I’d overwhelm you. But, as they say, you miss every shot you don’t take.”

I offered a muffled “Hmm?” in reply. I couldn’t even imagine what else there was to ask of me at that point. She already had me pooping my pants. Wearing a chastity cage. Getting my diaper changed by my peers. Had me suckle on the breast of a woman while an audience watched.

What could she possibly need to ask me about now?

“It’s nothing bad,” she cooed, likely sensing the tension in my body. “It’s simply an opportunity.”

An ‘opportunity’ could mean any number of things–but the word seems to suggest some sort of agency. Whatever it was, I could decline if I so chose.

“I’m taking a business trip next week,” she said. Flying to Seattle for a conference. The conference runs for four days, though I don’t plan on committing much more time to it than the two panels that I’m scheduled to participate in. So, that gives me a bit of downtime in a city that’s far from here. And I’m not sure that I could think of a better opportunity to be better acquainted with my precious baby boy.”

Being called her ‘precious baby boy’ left me a little flustered–so flustered that it took me a few moments before her actual request registered with me. Meanwhile, she didn’t miss a beat, working on getting me sealed up in my brand new diaper.

I opened my mouth, letting my pacifier drop out to the side of my face. “Are you asking if I want to go away with you? To Seattle?”

“Indeed I am. On the record–as my assistant. But off–as my baby.”

I was looking for reasons why I had to say no. Not because I didn’t want to go, but because I wouldn’t be able to get excited about the prospect of this until I had exhausted any excuses I might come up with. But I had no pets. No partner. Just a roommate who’d be home anyways. And work? Well…my job was to be by her side anyway.

“I…I could go.”

“But do you want to?” she asked.

It was actually a pretty easy question to answer: “Yes, Mommy.”

[kirababy]

Wow, the idea of a business trip in this situation is amazing.  Can't wait to see all the fun and games she has planned for him.  I don't think he fully understands yet.

[Babypants]

A private jet, perhaps?

[quietlyhumiliated]

Twenty-Two

From: Thomas Pritchard <tpritchard@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Monday, March 28 at 4:45 PM

To: Nancy Tamberlin <ntamberlin@xxxxxxxxx>; Human Resources <hr-services@xxxxxxxxx>

Subject: Workplace Concerns

Good afternoon Ms. Tamberlin,

I’ve been with our company for almost two years now, and I’ve considered myself to be a team player to the utmost degree. I’ve worked long hours, including weekend overtime. I’ve gone to every company event. I’ve been outspoken and communicative in every meeting I’ve ever been in here.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t seem to be enough to get any sort of recognition. Not just a promotion–but even some sort of acknowledgment that my hard work has been noticed and is appreciated. I had convinced myself, for a time, that this was just how a big company operated. I was contributing to something greater, and that in itself was enough.

However, upon reading this morning’s memo that two interns–of all employees–had not only been promoted, but promoted to work with the Executive Team, I feel forced to ask: What is it that they have proved in such a short amount of time that I have been seemingly unable to in my time here?

Ms. Tamblerin, while I don’t wish to insinuate that there’s been any sort of unethical reasons for these promotions–I’m sure you can understand my frustration and skepticism. At your earliest convenience, I’d like to have a conversation with you about what opportunities for growth are actually available to me.

Thank you for your time.

***

My first official day as Ms. Heller’s ‘assistant’ was behind me, and it had proven itself to be vastly different from any day at work I had ever had before. Yet, for all its changes and new perspectives, it ended on a more familiar note.

Lyndie was waiting for me in the main lobby so that we could leave together.

“You survived your first day?” she asked.

“It certainly seems that way.”

“You know that diaper bin I got?” she asked.

I nodded as we began to walk from the office and down the sidewalk in the direction of the train station.

“It does absolutely nothing to lock in the scent of a diaper smelling that bad.”

“O-oh… God, I’m so sorry, Lyndie. I…”

But she was laughing, shaking her head. “I’m not mad about it. I knew what I was signing up for. And the money…well, I can deal with a few stinky diapers now and then.”

I hadn’t thought much about the money. As fantastical as it sounded, I had an actual job–not an internship. And I was getting a salary. It might be a week or two before I got to see one of those paychecks, but the money was good. Too good to be true. So good that I forgot about it most of the time while I thought about my next diaper change and the day I’d get unleashed from my cage.

“I actually owe you a big ‘thank you,’” I said to her.

“Oh?”

“The unscented baby powder?”

She laughed, shrugging. “You noticed?”

“Mommy–er…Ms. Heller. She noticed.”

“As cute as it is to have you floating around the office smelling like a one-year old, I figured that was the way to go.”

“A good call.” I thought about telling her that I owed her a hug, but I kept that to myself for the time being. Instead, I changed the topic a little: “What are you doing tonight?”

“Going over to your place,” she said, smiling.

“Bold of you to invite yourself.”

“But that’s what you were going to suggest, yes?”

I nodded.

“You should order pizza again,” she said. “Same place as last time. That was pretty good.”

“You just want me to order from there again because you’re hoping the same girl who delivered last time will come back.”

Pizza-Girl, I had almost forgotten about her. I could only guess at how many people she had told that story to. And how many people those people told the story to. Somewhere, right now, somebody was telling the story about the guy who answered the door for his food delivery while wearing a giant diaper.

“Oh, that?” Lyndie asked with a chuckle. “Why, I had forgotten all about it.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Please?” she asked. “Put in the order there. I’ll pay you back for the food.”

“I-it’s not about the money.”

But I already submitted the order. And I had no idea if I was scared to death of the same Pizza-Girl coming back to the apartment again, or if I was actually excited about that.

Both, maybe. At the same time.

“Well you know all about how my day went,” I said, changing the subject once more. “How was your first day in your fancy new position of Head Babysitter?”

“Head Babysitter? I wished they’d put that on my business cards. Maybe I could get a small batch made that says that.”

“Ms. Heller would approve that. Easily.”

“I bet. But, yeah, my day wasn’t too bad. We’re in the very early stages of getting Bradley in diapers. It might be a bit before he’s leaving Clark-sized loads in them.”

“Hey…”

“And Megan–I haven’t spent much time with her. I believe she’s in diapers too–at least on occasion. But it seems that Mr. Yang is rather protective of his little princess. So I’m not sure what I have to do there.”

“And what about, uhm, Ava?” I asked.

She turned to me and smiled. “Aww. Have a little baby-crush?”

“N-no. I just…well…I’ve met her a few times and…”

“I suspect she has a little crush on you,” she said.

“What? Really? She said that?”

“Well, she didn’t just come out and say that in so many words. But, you know, she asked about you. And a girl can tell.”

“I don’t have a crush on Ava,” I said.

“Oh, come on now. She’s a total cutie.”

“She is,” I said, nodding. “Like…the most adorable. But…”

Lyndie laughed, shaking her head again. “You’ve got eyes for someone else, hmm”

“Well, I mean…”

“Are we talking about Gabrielle? Mommy?”

I sighed, feeling incredibly flustered. “Fuck. Yeah.”

“That’s so cute,” she said. “And…kind of sad.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear–if only because it was what I was thinking too. “I know, I know.”

“You're her assistant,” Lyndie said. “Her plaything. Her baby. Her…hobby.”

“I know, I know. But it’s just, like, nobody’s ever made me feel like she does before. She’s so beautiful and so smart and…”

“And she has the key to your little cage,” she teased, finishing my thought for me. It’s not what I would’ve said, but I might as well have.

We had made our way to the station platform and boarded a train, lucking into two seats that weren’t taken yet. I was tempted to put a hold on our conversation until we were in a more private place, but Lyndie seemed to see no issue with just carrying on.

“Let’s be realistic,” she said. “Are you going to marry Gabrielle? Are you going to marry Mommy?”

The question, and the snarky tone in which she asked it, caused my cheeks to burn hot. I quickly glanced around, hoping nobody heard her.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Or…I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Maybe the tastes of women change as they get older, and I’m just not old enough yet,” Lyndie said. “But I’m pretty sure that if Gabrielle is looking for a husband–he needs to be potty-trained.”

Lyndie wasn’t actually saying anything wrong. I needed to hear this, or to at least be reminded of it. I was so infatuated with the concept of Ms. Heller, that it was sometimes too easy to let myself fall a little too far down the rabbit hole.

“I know,” I said quietly.

“I’m just saying. Not only is Ava a cutie, but she’s also in a very similar situation as you. So, right there, you two have plenty to talk about. And I’m sure Gabrielle would adore you having a little girlfriend of your own.”

“Sure,” I said. “Especially if she holds onto the key to my cock.”

That time, I caught a few random glances from other passengers who heard my comment. I wondered what they thought I might have meant without context.

“Well, I for one just love playing baby matchmaker,” Lyndie said.

“Okay, but nobody’s actually asking to be set up,” I said. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I really don’t think I’m going to pursue a relationship with Ava.”

“Maybe you just need to spend more time with her.”

“And I’m sure I will. At work, you know?”

“Actually…” There was that trademark playfulness in Lyndie’s voice.

“Actually what?” I asked.

“I texted Ava,” she said.

“And what did you text her?”

“Your address. And I told her that you wanted to see if she’d come by tonight to hang out with us.”

I sighed, feeling my body just give up. Was I ever allowed a moment where I could just be at ease and not at the constant threat of being embarrassed or humiliated?

“I promise, I’m not going to make you play spin-the-bottle with her or anything. But this’ll be good for you. And for her. You might wear diapers all the time now, but you only have to be an actual baby during work hours.”

I’m pretty sure that comment fetched us a few odd glances–likely from the same people who heard what I had said before.

“We’re on our way over to the apartment,” I texted Evan. “Lyndie and I. And I think another friend from work is coming too. I ordered pizza.”

“I know,” he quickly responded.

“You and Evan?” I asked Lyndie. “You two are staying in touch, huh?”

She laughed, shrugging. “We don’t talk much. But I reached out to him this past weekend when you weren’t answering my texts. I just wanted him to confirm you weren’t dead.”

Lyndie, Ava, Evan, Ms. Heller, and maybe everyone else I had ever known in my entire life–I couldn’t help but imagine a vast web of communication, entirely devoted to talking about me.

“I’m cool with Ava coming over,” I said, circling back. “But please don’t make a whole big embarrassing scene about your little matchmaking thing?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said with a shrug. “But I feel like nobody embarasses you more than you.”

Ms. Heller might disagree. But when I wasn’t in her company? Lyndie was probably right.

I was pretty devoid of conversation after that. Lyndie would make a few attempts at small-talk, but it probably seemed pretty obvious that I was simply at mental-capacity for the moment. I wasn’t angry. Not in the least. But I was feeling overwhelmed. Ava. Pizza-Girl. The unknown range of Lyndie’s social network. And then I remembered the thing that had been weighing on my mind just before I met up with Lyndie at the end of the day–Ms. Heller’s suggestion that I join her on the business trip.

“Did you know about Seattle?” I asked as we were getting off the train.

“Seattle?” Lyndie shook her head.

“There’s some sort of conference there next week,” I said. “Mommy…I mean…”

Lyndie laughed. “You can call her ‘mommy’ around me. I’ll try not to poke too much fun.”

“Ms. Heller,” I said, starting over, “is going to Seattle next week for this conference.”

“Does she need me to babysit you?”

“No…she, uhm, asked me to go with her.”

“Oh!” Lyndie said, her eyes lighting up. “Wow. So, like, you and her? Sharing a room together? Day and night?”

I nodded. “Four days straight of me being her baby.”

“You’re going, right?”

I shrugged.

“Oh, come the fuck on, Clark. Why on Earth would you pass up an opportunity like that?”

“I don’t want to say no,” I clarified. “I just… It seems too good to be true, you know?”

“Well Gabrielle doesn’t fuck around. She wouldn’t have invited you if this wasn’t the real deal for her too.”

She was right, as she often was.

“So you have to go,” she added. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

“I’m going. Of course I’m going to go. I couldn’t not. You just have to let me worry out loud a little about it.”

“This is why you need an actual girlfriend,” she said.

Again, she was probably right. But the concept of a ‘girlfriend’ just didn’t compute with me. After an especially long dry-streak in my life when it came to romantic partners, Mommy had suddenly arrived in my life. And while it was far from a traditional partnership, I found her attention to be exactly the thing that I needed. For now, I simply couldn’t imagine anything else.

I was suddenly wetting myself. I wouldn’t say that it came as a surprise to me–I still had to sign off on my bladder opening the floodgates. But the act of just wetting the diaper felt so normal that I wasn’t completely conscious of it until my diaper began to grow heavy. It had been getting easier and easier the last few days–and I hadn’t been in diapers all that long.

Despite how easy it was to wet my diaper, walking in a wet diaper was still a challenge I hadn’t quite conquered. The saturated padding, now swelling between my legs, immediately began to slow me down and interrupt my stride. Details not lost on Lyndie–who’s ability to detect a used diaper seemed to parallel the ease at which I could use them.

“Something you want to tell me?” she asked, a snide smile on her face.

“I’m sure you already know.”

“Well, you’re walking like someone slipped a pillow into your pants.”

“It feels like someone might have,” I said.

“What’s going on in your diaper, Clarky?”

Clarky. That was new. I didn’t hate it. It was still surreal to me that we were having conversations like this out on the street, in broad daylight. I couldn’t help but look around, seeing if anyone was reacting. Nobody cared. Somewhere deep within my subconscious, I knew I was disappointed by that.

“I peed.”

“Just pee?”

“I think you’d know if I did something else.”

She laughed and nodded. “I think so too.”

“You’re off the clock,” I said. “So please don’t think you have to change me.”

“I’d argue that I’m on the clock 24/7 when my friend is a big baby.”

“If I worked at a hot dog factory all day, the last thing I’d want to do when I got home was to eat a hot dog.”

“You shouldn’t be eating hot dogs anyways,” she retorted. “They’re nasty.”

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” I said, hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction. “But what if tonight wasn’t about diapers and big babies? It was just about…friends hanging out.”

She chuckled. “That is crazy. Especially considering that half of the people in your apartment will be wearing diapers.”

That settled that: there was no way tonight wouldn’t be just as embarrassing as every other moment of my life.

I smiled. That seemed fine by me.

[Night Rain]

Looking forward to seeing how the evening with Ava goes.

[dyperaby]

???

[quietlyhumiliated]

Twenty-Three

Evan and Lyndie were like two old ladies at a book club. They had an immediate comradery that continued to surprise me. Evan and I certainly had our moments of good conversation, but I never saw him come to life quite like he did when Lyndie was around.

Part of me didn’t want to believe that they weren’t in constant contact with each other. Yet, their chemistry seemed natural enough to suggest that it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Busy day at the office?” he asked her when we got to the apartment.

“Oh you know how it is. All that paperwork.”

“And by paperwork you mean…”

“Diapers,” she said with a gleeful look on her face. “Obviously.”

“Hello, Evan,” I said. Answering a question he hadn’t yet asked: “My day was good too, thank you for asking.”

“Why’s the baby so cranky?” he asked Lyndie.

She held a hand up to the side of her mouth while mockingly pointing in my direction. In a hushed tone that was still intended for me to hear: “I think he needs a change.”

Evan laughed, shaking his head. “Already?”

“On the way here, actually,” Lyndie said, clearly willing to overshare on my behalf. “Somewhere between the train station and your apartment he made a big ol’ puddle in his pants.”

“I suppose I’d be cranky if I was walking around in soggy pants too,” he said. “Do you need to take care of that?”

He wasn’t asking me–he was asking Lyndie.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of changing my own diaper.”

“I know you’re not a parent,” Lyndie began, speaking to Evan. “But just using common sense, which do you think is the best choice: A baby changing his own diaper? Or a professional caregiver changing said diaper?”

“Professional?” I spat. “You’ve had your glorified babysitter position for one whole day!”

“Tut tut,” she said to me. “Quiet now. The adults are talking.”

Evan smiled, clearly enjoying this. “I mean, when you put it like that, it’s hard to argue in favor of letting a baby change his own diaper. Frankly, it sounds like a bit of a mess.”

“See?” Lyndie said, turning back to me with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It was all in jest, but she had made it abundantly clear that she intended to change my diaper for me. What else was there to do but accept my fate?

“Fine,” I said. “If you absolutely need to change my diaper.”

“No no,” Evan said. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

I rolled my eyes again. “And what should it be like?”

“You should use a baby-voice,” he said.

“Oh my lord,” Lyndie exclaimed. “Yes! Please, Clark, you have to ask me to change your diaper in a baby-voice.”

“Wh-what? I…I don’t know how to talk like a baby.”

“Oh please,” Lyndie said. “You can figure it out.”

“Come on,” I pleaded. “You’re not really expecting me to talk like a baby, are you? Just to ask for something that I can do myself?”

“We’re just having fun, Clarky.”

“You’re having fun,” I said, pointing a finger in the direction of each of them.

“I’m slightly tempted to have some sympathy for you,” Lyndie said with a shrug. “Getting teased and humiliated so frequently–both at work and home–can’t be easy.”

“It’s not,” I said, my spirits slightly lifted by her acknowledgment of those challenges.

“But. I don’t actually have any sympathy. Because, well, it’s pretty obvious that you love it. And so I think I’d be a much better friend if, instead of trying to comfort you, I just gave you more of what you wanted. Humiliation.”

I opened my mouth to offer a rebuttal, but I had absolutely no idea where to start. She was right, and she knew it.

“Now then,” she continued. “With that out of the way, I think you need to ask me for a diaper change, but with babytalk.”

I couldn’t remember ever having talked like a baby before–even to just goof around and be silly. I didn’t doubt that it was easy to do, but it was the kind of thing that I wished I had thought to practice when I was alone first.

“Uhm… Can I…pwease…have…diaper change?”

Evan burst out laughing, shaking his head. “It sounds like you’re reading a meme from six years ago.”

“Yeah,” Lyndie added. “Try again, Clarky.”

I could either continue making half-assed attempts at finding the right pathetic cadence in the hopes of stumbling into what she wanted to hear, or I could sacrifice a little more of my dignity and really ham it up. The latter had a better chance of getting this whole diaper change debacle over and done with before Ava arrived, which seemed like reason enough for me.

I took a deep breath, feeling my face reddening already. It wasn’t just the words, it was the tone that I’d have to get right. “Lyndie… My diapey is wet. Can you pwease change me?”

Her eyes seemed to light up, much happier with how that went. “And why can’t you do it yourself?”

“B-because…uhm…I’m a wittle baby…”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she said. “Come on, we’ll go to your room and get you out of your soggy britches.”

The diaper change itself was unremarkable. It was quick and efficient. Mostly wordless. No special treatment of my cock, nor even too many quips about the state of the diaper I was being changed out of. It felt normal. Routine. And just the idea of this process being made normal had completely shrunk me.

This is just how it is now.

There’s a brief back-and-forth about my return to the living room. She’d have liked it if I walked out of my bedroom without pants on. Maybe I would’ve rolled with it if it was just the three of us–but with Ava on her way, I’d rather pants. To my surprise, she relents. I wondered if she was willing to give me a reprieve, or if she just figured she’d find another way to humiliate me later.

“Aw,” Evan said as we emerged from the bedroom. “Pants?”

“I know, I know,” Lyndie said.

“But what about Pizza-Girl?” Evan whined. “We’d want her to see his diaper again, you know?”

“I forgot about that,” Lyndie said. “But…we could make a game of that too.”

“A game?” I asked.

“We’re expecting both Ava and the pizza delivery, right? Your doorbell will ring twice. So how about you pick one. Either you answer the first doorbell in just a diaper. Or the second.”

It seemed fair for a moment; until I realized that I was still just humiliating myself for Lyndie’s amusement. But–and I wouldn’t have said it out loud–if she had insisted on me taking my pants off and answering the door in a diaper both times, I would’ve. Her proposal was only half as bad.

I paused, attempting to do some quick calculations. How long did it take for a pizza to get made and then delivered? Did it matter that everyone in town was likely ordering a pizza at about this time? And how long did it take Ava to get here? Where was she coming from?

Who was I kidding? There was no better option. I’d either be exposing my diaper to a stranger–Pizza-Girl or yet another stranger–or I’d be making a fool of myself in front of Ava.

“Maybe it’s best to get it over with,” I said. “First doorbell.”

“Good call,” Evan said, nodding his head. “It’s what I would’ve picked too.”

Lyndie shot him an amused look.

“D-don’t you get any ideas,” he said to her. “I’m not putting on a diaper.”

Lyndie just shrugged playfully, possibly stowing the idea away for another day.

“But that does mean that I have to insist, again, that you take off your pants,” she said to me. “You want to be ready when that doorbell rings.”

So much for small victories. I’m all out of fight, and I’m ready to do whatever I have to do to appease Lyndie and Evan. Willful compliance doesn’t earn me back very much dignity, but it at least stops the bleeding. I let my pants fall to the ground–hearing that oh-so-familiar fwomp when they reach their destination.

“Happy?” I ask. “You got what you want. I’m not wearing pants and I’m probably minutes away from answering the door in a diaper.”

“Yes,” Lyndie said, nodding. “Quite happy. Evan? You happy?”

“Quite,” he answered.

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” she said, stretching out and yawning as if she’d had an especially long day. “Is there any beer in your fridge?”

“Pretty sure we’ve got some,” Evan said. “Clark?”

“Are you putting it in a baby bottle?” I asked, rolling my eyes in advance of Lyndie finding that to be a good idea.

“I wasn’t planning on it…”

I sighed in relief while also learning a little lesson: Don’t speculate out loud about what embarrassing thing might be coming next, lest I find myself summoning that humiliation myself.

“I texted Ava to see how far away she is,” Lyndie said, staring down at her phone. “She hasn’t gotten back to me though.”

“And you said that Ava is another little baby?” Evan asked, seeming to reference a conversation I wasn’t privy to.

“That she is,” Lyndie said with a smile. “She’s a real sweetheart. She almost seems too good for this weird corporate-baby lifestyle.”

“But I’m not too good?” I asked.

“Oh, no. You’re perfectly suited for it.”

Ding-dong.

The three of us all looked to each other. Lyndie and Evan looked excited. I could only assume that I looked as anxious as I felt.

“Ooh,” Lyndie said. “Who could it be?”

“I guess I ought to find out, huh?” I muttered, well aware of the Eeyore-ness of my tone.

I slowly dragged myself towards the door, my bulky diaper swishing and crinkling between my legs. A second ding-dong prompted me to pick up the pace a little.

Yet as I neared the door, I thought I could hear something that I wasn’t expecting. Voices. More than one.

“W-wait,” I said, looking back to Lyndie. “I don’t think that this is–”

“Just open the door,” Lyndie said, uninterested in any further dawdling.

It was obvious that I wouldn’t be given the chance to argue for a mulligan. Whatever. I opted to just open the door to see what sort of fresh hell awaited me now.

It was Ava.

And Pizza-Girl.

Ava seemed to be in the middle of saying something: “...and, oh–here he is. Oh. Uhm. C-Clark? I think you forgot…something.”

Pizza-Girl was smirking, running her eyes up and down my body again. I would’ve loved to have had a little peek into her mind at that moment. She said nothing immediately, though her smile seemed to say everything.

“I know,” I said to Ava. “Uhm, why don’t you come in.”

Ava was blushing with second-hand embarrassment as she shuffled past me in the doorway. My hips briefly connected with hers, and there was the unmistakable sound–at least to me–of our diapers crinkling against each other.

I took the pizza from Pizza-Girl, ready for that to be the end of the transaction. But I didn’t want to leave it at that. I felt like I owed her some sort of explanation.

Or, an apology. “Hey, look, I’m sorry that you have to, uhm, see this…”

“Diaper?” she asked, laughing. “I can’t help but think that you want me to see it.”

“Uhm, well…”

“Consider it seen,” she said. “Are you proud of that?”

Proud of what? Proud of having shown her my diaper, twice? Or proud of just wearing one in the first place?

“It…it was a, uh, bet,” I said, not completely sure if the words were coherent or not. I was mumbling a little, trying to address Pizza-Girl without everyone in my apartment hearing me.

“Yeah? It seems like you keep losing that bet. Maybe take a break from bets for a while?”

I felt my face getting hot as I quickly looked over my shoulder to everyone else. They were all waiting. Smiling. Except for Ava, who still seemed kind of confused.

“Right,” Pizza-Girl said, jumping to her own conclusion. “You like losing the bet.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Well, here’s to hoping you lose some more bets when you order pizza from my shop.”

“Are you…the only delivery person?”

She laughed and shrugged. “Maybe. Only one way to find out, right?”

“I…guess.”

“Enjoy your pizza,” she said. “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

“Uhm…thank you.” By the time I finally got some words out of my mouth again, she was already walking down the hall.

I closed the door, and returned to the kitchen with the pizza in hand. I was already bracing myself for the jokes and teasing.

“That couldn’t have worked out any better,” Lyndie said. “A real two-for-one there.”

“Did you make him answer the door in his diaper?” Ava asked.

“Sort of,” she answered. “It was also his choice.”

“You know,” Evan interjected. “Had you chosen to wait until the second door-bell, you wouldn’t have had to show your diaper to anyone.”

“Well, damn,” I said, sighing. I hadn’t even considered that.

“And do you always tease him like this?” Ava asked.

“We haven’t made hanging out like this a regular thing just yet,” Lyndie said. “But we’re working on it. And we’ll probably always be teasing him like this.”

“You aren’t going to make me do things like that, are you?” Ava asked.

“You?” Lyndie asked, her face scrunching up like she saw the cutest little puppy. “Of course not, lovey.”

Lovey? I get forced to expose myself to random strangers and she gets called Lovey? I wouldn’t have said that I was mad, but I was a little jealous.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Evan said, waving from across the room. “I’m Evan, Clarky’s roommate.”

“Oh,” Lyndie added, “we’re trying to make ‘Clarky’ a thing. How do you feel about that?”

“It’s cute,” Ava said as she turned to look me over again. I was still standing there in just a shirt and diaper. “It fits.”

“So you’re part of the baby cult too?” Evan asked.

Ava giggled. “Cult? I never thought of it that way, but it’s probably not too far off. But, yes.”

“And I assume that you…like it?”

She bit her bottom lip as she blushed. The answer seemed obvious enough, even if she seemed a little too shy about just saying it.

“She likes it plenty,” Lyndie said. “I can promise you that.”

Pizza and beer–water for Ava–was passed around and we all found a seat at the kitchen table. It was the first time since Evan and I started living together that we had more than one guest at the apartment at the same time. Not to mention that it was the first time that all four of the chairs at our table were in use.

It felt like something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“Did you have a good day at work?” Lyndie asked Evan.

“All my days are exactly the same,” he responded, shrugging.

“I’m not even sure what you do for work,” she said.

“I’m not sure either,” Evan said flippantly, earning a few chuckles from around the table. “But, yeah, I do online customer support for a retailer. Answer emails and chats, mostly from angry women who think they deserve steeper discounts on cashmere.”

“Sounds miserable,” Lyndie said.

Evan shrugged. “Well, there’s a lot less exposure to diapers at my job, but it is what it is.”

We were making small talk–and big talk–as we ate at the table. Sharing stories about work and life, only occasionally bringing up the baby stuff. It finally dawned on me how this felt familiar, as it was something I had experienced in a long time.

Family. It felt like family.

After dinner, as I collected dishes and beer bottles to clean up–and while Evan had excused himself to use the restroom–I could hear Lyndie asking Ava to spin around so she could check her diaper.

“A little wet. I bet it could hold more.”

The weirdest fucking family.

 

 

Periodic reminder that there's at least four more chapters of this story to read on my Patreon, and you can access those additional chapters on the lowest tier ($3!). Or, for a few bucks more a month, you can also read some of the exclusive stories that aren't available anywhere else.

[Babypants]

I wonder how Ava's mommy would respond to the growing camaraderie between her and Clark.  With a solid steel chastity belt, perhaps?

[quietlyhumiliated]

Twenty-Four

Baby,

Things you’ll need to pack for our trip to Seattle:

• Toiletries and any health needs (medications, eyeglasses, etc)

There’s nothing you’ll need to bring, as I will be taking care of everything else.

-Mommy

***

It’s funny how quickly we adapt. What seems like a critical interruption of a daily process one day can seem like the new normal just two days later.

Just a few short weeks ago, I was using the bathrooms at work.

Then, suddenly, I was entering the office in a diaper. And exiting in another diaper. Sometimes there would even be another diaper in between the two. My morning routine now involved me bypassing my desk to directly report to Ms. Heller, who was always waiting for me–fresh diaper in hand. This, of course, meant wearing my morning piss from the moment I woke up until I got to work.

Wet diapers were sometimes handled in her office. Messy diapers–still not an everyday occurrence, thankfully–were handled at the Nursery. Trips to The Nursery seemed reserved for especially heavy diapers. Or when Ms. Heller just couldn’t make the time to change me herself. Or, probably, when she just wanted to see me squirm at having Lyndie change me.

It was all pretty weird when I thought about it, but I had adapted.

This–the trip to Seattle–didn’t feel like something I’d adapt to. It lacked that feeling of permanence. This wouldn’t be a part of the new normal in a week or two–this was a deliberate exception from the norm. This was far outside of even my newest comfort zones, and it didn’t help that the entire trip was an unknown to me. Where were we staying? What were her plans for our time together? Did anyone else know?

“You’ve got a look to you, sweetie,” Ms. Heller said as she changed my morning diaper on the floor of her office. I was on my back, my pants tossed aside, and she was between my legs, tending to wiping up the remnants of the puddle I had been sitting in for the last hour. “Stress, I bet.”

I didn’t respond. There was a pacifier in my mouth, but even if there wasn’t, I had nothing ready to say.

But she was right. This was the day we departed for Seattle. Work half-a-day and then we were headed to the airport. And after that? A giant question mark, and it scared the piss–quite literally–out of me and into my diaper.

“Nervous about Mommy and Baby’s big trip?” she cooed?

I nodded. Though, my stress was more than just travel.

I really should talk to Ava about what happened last night…

“I’m sure that it does feel overwhelming,” she continued. “But you do trust me, right?”

I was so prepared to offer an affirmative answer that I had to stop myself to really think about her question. It seemed obvious to a degree where iI wondered if it was a trick question.

Yes, I trusted her. Or, rather, I wanted to trust her. In a short time, she had brought a lot of chaos and humiliation into my life. I still didn’t know where her limits were–or if she had any at all. And while she had been doing a good job, thus far, of dancing on the line between professional office culture and kinky shenanigans, I still found myself bracing for the day she pushed our game a little too far.

Sick of not being responded to, she plucked the pacifier from my mouth. “You trust me, yes?”

“I do,” I said. The rest just sort of tumbled out, not completely processed: “And I want to trust you. But it feels like there’s so much at stake. And I never know what’s coming next. So…it’s pretty easy for me to be scared about it.”

She laughed, bending down to kiss me on the head. “Silly boy. I’ve said this before to you, and I’ll say it again: You’re not the only one with a reputation at stake. And, don’t forget, I’ve been doing things like this long before you ever stepped foot in my office.”

She was right. And I did know that–but it was sometimes easy to forget it.

“I’m going to humiliate you,” she said. “I’m going to make you into a tiny whimpering baby–the most pathetic you’ve ever felt. I promise you that. And I can do that because I trust you. I trust the other executives. I trust their assistants. I trust the infrastructure we’ve built here in this company. I just need your trust too.”

My cock strained against my cage–her promise of patheticness overloading my senses.

“I trust you,” I said. Any lingering doubts or hesitations were, at least temporarily, overridden by my ever-increasing need for the sexual release I couldn’t have.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, slipping a new diaper underneath me. “Seattle is going to be a lot of fun, you know?”

“I-is it?”

“Oh yes. New fun things for you to wear. Things to try. Diapers to ruin. I’d say more, but… Well, my panties are already getting a little damp just thinking about it all.”

Horny Clark–the frustrated bit of my subconscious who struggled the most with chastity–was now piloting my body. “Maybe I can help?”

“Help?” she asked, giggling. “With my wet panties?”

“I…I could…pleasure you. Mommy. Please?”

She smiled. “You are such a delight, baby boy.”

I was blushing. More importantly, I was beaming.

“I’m starting to think you might be a more advanced student.”

That certainty sounded good, but I was unsure what that meant. I tilted my head, feeling like a curious puppy dog–eager to hear my master elaborate.

“There’s this point in the career of an assistant–a baby, or whatever role an assistant around here is actually serving–where they no longer need to be told to do things. They just do them, because they already know it's expected. Or, even better, because they want to. And I sense you’re already well on that path. Sooner than it usually takes.”

I was flattered–but also a little concerned. Was I that submissive? Pathetic?

Oh, probably. There seemed to be little point in pretending that I wasn’t either of those things, or that it was wrong to be that way. Those were likely the qualities that Ms. Heller had identified in me in the first place.

It seemed best, for both of us, to just lean into it.

“Please?” I asked again–a juvenile tone unconsciously working its way into my speech. “C-can I taste you?”

“Of course,” she cooed. “You stay right there.”

She hiked her skirt up to her hips, but she left her panties on. Her body crawled over top of mine, until her bottom was positioned above my face. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself and her damp panties onto my face. Had I been able to, I might’ve asked what she expected me to do. Was I to shift the panties aside? But my tongue was already reaching up, pushing into the bottom of the silky underpants.

I was tasting her. More specifically, I was tasting her panties, soaked through. She was finding her own rhythm, gently grinding over my nose and mouth. I did what I could, licking and stroking the cloth with my tongue. I was worried that it wouldn’t be enough–but her moans seemed to suggest the opposite.

Fuck. I wanted to be out of my cage so badly. If I didn’t explode out of the metal cage now, then the chastity artisan who crafted this unit deserved a raise. And if the cage itself didn’t burst into pieces, perhaps it would be my cock. How much strain was too much?

“Does that taste good?” she asked. “Is that what you wanted to taste?”

I couldn’t answer her. Surely she understood.

“If you are so desperate for a taste,” she said, sneaking her words in between deep breaths and groans, “perhaps I should let you take my panties with you. Carry them around in your pocket for whenever you need a taste.”

That sounded like the best idea I had ever heard.

“Or,” she continued, “at that point I might as well just have you walk around with my panties in your mouth for the rest of the day. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Completely infeasible in an office. But I wished such a thing could happen.

“Keep going, Baby. You’re doing a very good job.”

She had a way of taking me out of space and time. I had no clue how long I was under her, cycling between massaging her with my tongue and suckling on the soaked panties, but if it had turned out to be either 30 seconds or an entire week, I’d have believed it. My own helpless desperation had been channeled into pure adrenaline, which I freely gave back to Ms. Heller.

And then she came, coating my face with a final burst of hot wetness that was forced through the panties.

“Now, where was I?” she finally said, after taking a few beats to recompose herself and slide off of my moist face. “Let’s finish getting you into this new diaper.”

Moments later, it was like nothing had happened. She was taping the new diaper on me, looking just as she did when I first laid on my back for her. It’d have been easy to convince myself that I had just imagined her brief residency on my face.

Except, a damp bit of cloth was suddenly forced into my hand while I was daydreaming. I quickly looked to see that I was, in fact, holding her wet panties.

“I won’t make you keep them in your mouth,” she said. “As fun as that would be. But consider that my reward to you for a job well done this morning. Do with them as you please, they’re yours now.”

Had I ever been given a better gift? I certainly couldn’t think of one.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Now then. As fun as playing with you is, Mommy should try and get a few things done before we head out on our trip.”

“Of course,” I said, nodding. “But…”

“Yes?”

“What shall I do in the meantime?”

No sooner than the words had left my mouth, I found myself worrying that I was opening myself up for some stinky, diaper-filling, task.

“Seeing as how you’re on track to mastering your role as ‘baby,’ perhaps it’s time you start working on the role of ‘assistant.’”

“I’m ready,” I said.

“We’ll start small this morning. Stay here with me in the office. Let’s start getting you acclimated to a normal day for me. You should take notes.”

I nodded, already exhilarated by the idea of shadowing her for the morning. “Let me just grab my notebook.”

“I should probably visit the restroom myself,” Ms. Heller said with a sly smile. “Since, you know, I can. One of the perks of being a Mommy and not a baby.”

I felt this pang in my gut–this overwhelming, but mostly undefined, feeling of lust. The very thought of her using a toilet caused my cock to strain itself in its cage again.

“Uhm.” Am I actually going to say this? “I…want that,” I said.

She laughed, raising her eyebrows. “I’m sorry? Baby, you’ll have to be more clear. I’m not sure what you mean.”

I wasn’t completely sure what I was saying myself. I wanted–that’s all I knew. I wanted…something?

“I just…”

I tried to shut off my brain so that I didn’t overthink it. What was it that I wanted her to do? Was I hoping she’d let me follow her into the bathroom so that I could watch her piss? I supposed that would be nice, but I was sure that there was something I wanted more than that.

A naughty smile spread across her face. I didn’t think she knew what it was I wanted either, but she still took delight in seeing me trying to figure it out.

“Yes?” she asked. “Go on. Tell Mommy what you want.”

“I want…you to use me,” I finally said. It was a half-formed thought, at best.

“I think we’re already there, sweetheart.”

“N-no, I mean…use me. My diaper.”

She slowly shook her head, as if unable to believe that I actually asked such a thing.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sighing. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It was just this ridiculous little thought that I probably should’ve ignored and–”

“Stop,” she said, reaching out to me and putting a finger over my lips. “I think it’s a good idea. A great idea. You just never cease to amaze me, that’s all.”

With my dirty thought having been said aloud–and even with her approval–I felt guilty. Shameful. The pathetic musings of someone in such need for sexual release that I’d say just about anything.

“I’ll just get my notebook,” I said, her finger still planted on my lips.

“Stop,” she said again. “I only wish you had told me before I put this diaper on you. But I’m not going to let that stop me.”

“So…”

“So get down on your back again, Baby.”

I did as I was asked, feeling both anxious and excited about what was to happen next. I thought I knew what was about to happen, though neither of us had explicitly stated it aloud. What if I was wrong?

It didn’t matter. Regardless of what she did, I’d love it.

She began peeling back the tapes of the diaper she had just put me in. “Fuck. These tapes are stronger than I thought–I can’t open the diaper without ripping the plastic.”

Did this mean she would stop? No, she brute-forced her way through the tapes, tearing each up from the diaper regardless of the consequences.

“I hate to waste a diaper,” she said as she returned to her cabinet to fetch a new diaper. “But sometimes, minor sacrifices need to be made.”

I suddenly remembered that my pacifier was still in my hand, and I knew where it belonged. It was back in my mouth by the time she carried the new diaper back to me.

“You’re almost too good at being a baby,” she said, looking down at me. “Though that’s hardly a bad thing.”

I took it as a compliment.

She pulled the diaper I had only briefly worn out from under me with a single firm pull before casting it aside. The brand new diaper was unfolded and once more slid under my bottom.

“There’s multiple ways that we could do this,” she said. “As with most things, repeat experimentation will reveal the most effective method.”

Translation: This wouldn’t be the last time we did something like this.

I glanced towards the closed door on the other side of her office–her private bathroom. A toilet was never far from her. It’d have been so quick and easy for her to just walk a few feet to do her business. But, no, she wanted to do this–just as much as I wanted it. I wondered if that would ever stop feeling so astonishing.

She hiked her skirt up to her waist once more, revealing her bare skin. Her panties were still clutched tightly in my other hand. It was unclear to me if she was just figuring things out as she went, or if she already had a plan in place–but she moved as if this was something she had done a hundred times before. She squatted down over my caged cock, facing me. Looking me directly in the eyes.

And then it happened. I probably could’ve moved my head to get a better view of the action, but my gaze remained fixed on her eyes. Instead, I experienced her pissing in every other way. The sound of her urine cascading over my cage, through my legs, and into the puddle forming in my diaper. The feeling of the hot liquid on my skin. The slightest change in scent of my new diaper. All while we peered into each other's eyes.

“There,” she said, as the final drops splashed down on my crotch. “I think that should do it. May I see my panties?”

I lifted my hand, presenting her with the already damp bundle of cloth she had given me moments ago. She took it, wiping herself with it before depositing it back into my hand again.

Neither of us said anything as she quickly pulled the front of my diaper through my legs and taped it shut–sealing me into the wet diaper of her making. There probably wasn’t anything left to say at that point. From my vantage point, it only seemed to make the moment feel even more forbidden and naughty.

I was back on my feet again, feeling the heavy diaper flumph into a sag between my legs. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have put into words how exhilarated I felt. I was both ‘baby’ and Mommy’s toilet. I wanted more. I wanted everything.

As I slipped back into my pants, it occurred to me how different this wet diaper was from every other wet diaper I had experienced over the last week or three. Aside from the alien feeling of it being someone else’s weirdness, the sagging bulk seemed to come from a different part of the diaper. Just a little bit–but enough to make it feel unique. It made it hard to just let the feeling of the wet diaper fade into the background. Instead, Ms. Heller’s wetness felt everpresent and firmly lodged into the forefront of my mind.

“Now then,” she finally said. “I’m ready to get to work. Did you need to grab your notebook?”

I nodded.

“Go on then, Baby. Fetch it and be back quickly.”

Worse things have happened in my time as an office baby. A few days ago, I had been paraded from Ms. Heller’s office to Lyndie’s nursery with an abhorrently dirty diaper on. But there was something about waddling around in a diaper that was wet with Mommy’s pee that struck nerves that seemed previously unstruck.

I hastily trotted to my desk and grabbed my sketchbook, looking around to see if anyone was watching me. I tried not to let myself succumb to such paranoia, for fear of it becoming all-consuming. But I was feeling especially obvious in this heavy diaper and I couldn’t help myself.

There were eyes. Just a few. Peering up from cubicles and around corners. Quick glances. Skeptical grimaces. Maybe it was nothing–maybe these people just looked at everyone who walked by.

But…maybe not. Should have I been paying more attention? Were gossip and rumors starting to spread? Had anyone figured out–or even speculated–that there was a diaper-filling baby in their midst?

I regretted opening up that door, and I hustled back to Mommy’s office. I was more ready than ever to be whisked away for a few days. To a place where nobody knew who I was.

Or what I was.

[D503]

?

[kirababy]

Wow.  Just wow.   This is going to be a most interesting adventure, I think.

[Babypants]

This chapter disappoints me.  From an editorial perspective, you can only take fiction so far before the lack of a backstory for characters with narrative POV starts to raise red flags.  When you throw a toileting scene like this into the story without explanation or preamble, it looks like you are running a check list of scenes that have to be included in order to satisfy every potential reader niche.  The two traditional modes of character introduction are a backstory dump in the opening chapter/s, or bits and pieces related as the story progresses through dialogue between the character with narrative POV and another character in the story (Lyndie, in this instance).  If I had been your editor in a publishing house, I would have told you many chapters ago to start giving Clark a biography that would make his thoughts, words and actions plausible.

It's time.

[quietlyhumiliated]

11 hours ago, Babypants said:

This chapter disappoints me.  From an editorial perspective, you can only take fiction so far before the lack of a backstory for characters with narrative POV starts to raise red flags.  When you throw a toileting scene like this into the story without explanation or preamble, it looks like you are running a check list of scenes that have to be included in order to satisfy every potential reader niche.  The two traditional modes of character introduction are a backstory dump in the opening chapter/s, or bits and pieces related as the story progresses through dialogue between the character with narrative POV and another character in the story (Lyndie, in this instance).  If I had been your editor in a publishing house, I would have told you many chapters ago to start giving Clark a biography that would make his thoughts, words and actions plausible.

It's time.

Honestly appreciate the feedback.

What started as a small experiment in pantsing my way through a short story about office humiliation has turned into something longer than I've ever presented to the public before. I'm learning an awful lot about what works and what doesn't with my traditional writing habits here - and your comments certainly align with some of my own observations.

As of today, I've written about 15 more chapters after this one. Which is to say: you bring up some really great points that I be kneading into my writing. Eventually.

Thanks again!