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Doing Business [Season 4] [Part 77 & 78 posted on 4/12/2024]

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On 7/19/2023 at 2:52 AM, quietlyhumiliated said:

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

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

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

On good faith, I will read the next chapter. 


I'm afraid I am dubious. The older story I referenced was excellent up until the point they in all but words killed the female deutoragonist (and she was a better character than the Amazon female) it was really gutting after getting invested in the story. 


I don't feel you can redeem the sense of above everybody and untouchable clandestine that the mummy execs had. 


Your writing, pacing and grounding in believability has been great up until this point

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15 hours ago, sherlock said:

On good faith, I will read the next chapter. 


Hey, thanks for keeping up with the story for as long as you have. Obviously, I hope you stick around - but we both know it's not worth reading something you're not enjoying anymore.

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I suspect that your resident critic missed the bit about Yang going his own way.  Until that moment, your picture of the clique frankly struck me as a little too lovey-dovey.  Office politics at this level are always cutthroat, and they are always going on.  The tensions that you have introduced in this last chapter have made the whole story a grittier and therefore more enjoyable read.  Keep going! 

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5 hours ago, Babypants said:

I suspect that your resident critic missed the bit about Yang going his own way.  Until that moment, your picture of the clique frankly struck me as a little too lovey-dovey.  Office politics at this level are always cutthroat, and they are always going on.  The tensions that you have introduced in this last chapter have made the whole story a grittier and therefore more enjoyable read.  Keep going! 

There's no tension. The execs are folding over one underling making noise, after several memorandum chapters listing multiple people with about as much info /proof as Pritchard, but they are not perceived as a threat requiring paying off. 


It's not lovey dovey. It's clandestine, the upper echelon of upper class. Top of the business ladder. Basquing in their affluence. 

I don't perceive any grit?? 


Whats your take in detail? 

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It had been a while since I was in the men’s room at the office. I used to at least stop by on occasion to wash my hands, but more recently I was just keeping a large bottle of hand sanitizer at my desk. It seemed to make more sense–considering how many times my hands were coming in contact with diapers. Usually used, or in the process of being used.

It had been even longer since I sat in one of the stalls. Even before I entered this age of diapers, I was staunchly against pooping at work. Just the thought of it gave me anxiety. People hearing the noises your ass made? The sound of things dropping into the water? What if you were judged for how many times you pulled toilet paper from the rolls? What if it stunk up the whole bathroom? I could never perform under those obstacles.

But, the stall did make for a good hiding place. If I hadn’t been so distraught, I probably would’ve had more appreciation for the fact that I was sitting on a toilet for the first time in a long while–wearing a diaper while I did so.

I had a lot to think about. A lot to process.

In the stall next to me, someone was busy using the toilet as it was intended. It was loud. Smelly. If nothing else, I felt vindicated about my own toilet habits. Even if they didn’t seem to care.

No longer a hospitable environment for thinking, I left and slowly meandered back to my desk–my walk still something closer to a waddle, due to my heavy diaper.

Lyndie was waiting for me there.

“Hey,” she said. “Did you still need me? We could take care of your, uh, problem.”

I could at least appreciate that she hadn’t just talked about my wet diaper in the middle of the office for once.

“No,” I said. “I’m good, thanks.”

“You’re…good? You got a change already?”

“Not yet.”

“How are you ‘good’ then? C’mon. We’ll go back to my office and I’ll take care of you.”

“Actually, I think I’m just going to head out,” I said. “I’ll catch you later, though.”

“Clark, you’re being weird. Weirder than usual.”

Am I weird? “Sorry, it’s just been a long day and I’m under a lot of stress, so I think I’m just going to head home and…”

“If it’s because I couldn’t see you earlier, I’m sorry. I just had to take care of something else.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no… It’s cool.” I was no actor, but this felt like a pretty solid performance.

“Are you sure you don’t want to swing by for a second? You’ll be in and out in a few minutes with a brand-spanking-new…”

“Sorry,” I said, cutting her off before she, likely, said the d-word aloud in the office, “I really do need to be heading out. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she said, feigning an optimistic smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked a little hurt, I thought. But it was a painful conversation for me too. I wanted her to change my diaper, and certainly could’ve used one. But until I knew more about why she had been talking to Pritchard in the nursery, I felt like I couldn’t fully trust her. That hurt.

I quickly gathered my things and began to make my way out of the office, fully committed to curling up in a ball on my bed later.

“Leaving a little early today?” asked Ava, intercepting me in the hallway.

If I had to run into anyone, I was glad it was her.

“I was going to. But…hey, were you doing anything tonight?”

She thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

It was a spur of the moment question, but having company seemed a little better than wallowing in loneliness. Besides, maybe Ava was the exact person I needed to talk to about whatever was happening with Pritchard and Lyndie.

“Maybe it’d be nice to get some food or something?”

Her cheeks seemed to get a little more pink. “Are you asking me out on a date, Clark?”

Was I? I supposed that it did sound that way. “Oh, I don’t know about a date. I just thought that…”

“Yeah, I’d love to go out,” she said.

Out? Like ‘out for drinks?’ Or like ‘out on a date?’

“Perfect,” I said.

“Where and when?”

“Anytime, I guess,” I said. “I just need to go home and change and then I'll be ready to go whenever.”

“Change?” she asked, smirking. “Are we talking about your clothes? Or your…”

I nodded. “It all needs a good change.”

“By the time I get out of here, I’ll need a good change myself,” she said. “I can meet up with you later. 7-ish?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

We picked a place to eat that was more central to both our locations. Really, she just named a place–a little diner–that she thought might be between us. She could’ve picked a place on the moon for all I cared. But it was done–plans were made. We were going out.

By the time I got back to my apartment building, I felt a little dampness in the leg of my pants near the bottom of my diaper. Wetting it one more time on the train probably hadn’t been the best idea, but I rarely gave those sorts of things consideration anymore. Still, I wasn’t too concerned about it. I was home–or close enough.

I jumped on the elevator and hit the shining ‘5.’ Home sweet home.

But when the elevator door opened, I was surprised to see someone standing there in the hallway. And not just anyone–it was Pizza Girl.

“Uh, hi there,” she said, waving.

Does she…recognize me? “Oh, hey. Dropping off some, uh, pizza?”

She laughed, nodding. “That’s kind of what I do. Actually, I was just dropping it off at your place.”

She remembers where I live? “Oh…it must’ve been my roommate.”

“I figured,” she said, shrugging. “I’m, uh, not used to anyone else opening the door.”

Okay, so she absolutely recognizes me. “Well, it’s good to see you,” I said, stepping off the elevator as she stepped on to it. Our bodies briefly brushed against each other, and all I could hear was crinkling. My face turned a bright red. It seemed impossible that I could see her without humiliating myself somehow. There was no doubt that she heard that too. And she, undoubtedly, could guess that I just wore diapers all the time.

But I looked into the elevator again as the doors closed. She was waving goodbye. Her cheeks looked almost as red as mine.

What did she have to be embarrassed about?

There wasn’t much time to ponder my latest embarrassing run-in with her, though. Between the time it took to get home, the time it’d take to get ready, and the time it’d take to get over to the diner Ava picked out, there wasn’t much time to spare.

“Aw, you just missed the pizza delivery girl!” Evan said as I burst through the door. “Also, I got us pizza for dinner.”

“That was, honestly, very nice of you,” I said. “But I actually have plans.”

“You? Plans?”

“Meeting with Ava tonight. And then, while I’m thinking about it, I think I’m going to Mommy–er, my boss’s–place tomorrow. And don’t forget that my mother is coming on Saturday morning.”

“Wow, look at you, Mr. Social. And there’s so much to unpack there. Is this a date with you and Ava tonight?”

“N-no, I don’t think so.” Though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

“And does Mommy know you’re going out on a date?” he teased.

“I just said that I didn’t think it was a date! We’re friends!”

“Alright, sure. And you’re going to your boss’s place tomorrow? Come on. That seems like a big deal.”

“It probably is,” I said. “But if I think about that right now, I’ll probably have a panic attack. Let’s shelve that topic for now.”

“Do I need to do anything in anticipation for your mother’s arrival?”

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate you asking.”

Ideally, yes, we’d completely redecorate the apartment so that it didn’t look like two early 20-somethings lived here. In a perfect world, the apartment would be classy enough to complete the picture I was crafting with brunch at a fancy restaurant. And my faux-girlfriend Lyndie.

Wait. Was that still going to happen now? Another thing to ponder later.

“You’re changing, right?” he asked.

“That was my plan,” I said, feeling a little offended. “What’s wrong with this outfit, though?”

“Oh nothing,” he shrugged. “It’s just your, uh, diaper. I’ve started to notice this little waddle you get sometimes. I suspect it’s when your diaper is full?”

Ugh. You seriously notice that?” Who else noticed such a thing?

“Honestly, it’s pretty subtle.” He shrugged again. “Maybe I only notice it because we live together and I see you walking around a lot?”

Yeah, but do you know who else sees me walking around a lot? Everyone I work with.

“Okay, thanks,” I said, hoping my tone made it obvious how sarcastic I was being. Yet another thing to think about later and grow anxious over.

In my bedroom, with the door closed and my pants off, I found myself feeling a little more comfortable. I’d be hesitant to say that I was in my ‘natural state’–no pants and saggy diaper between my legs–but it felt more right than the slacks I wore to the office did. Lately, that’s how I saw myself in my daydreams–waddling about in just a diaper like I was a toddler.

In the past–in what felt like a different life, at this point–this would’ve been a prime opportunity to lie back in bed and have a few minutes alone with my cock. A brief reprieve from the stresses and expectations of the world. An emotional reset button, of sorts. But when I collapsed in my bed and pawed at the front of my diaper–feeling the stiff and unyielding cage under it–I remembered that I didn’t even have that pleasure anymore.

It had only been a few days since Seattle–but I was already craving pleasure like the kind experienced there. I hoped that Mommy wouldn’t make me wait as long as she did between when the cage was first put on my cock and Seattle.

Maybe tomorrow? But that seemed way too far away.

I settled for just taking a few minutes to feel the bloated padding with my hand, squeezing the plastic gently and feeling the wetness press against my skin and cage. It had been a while since I enjoyed the simple pleasures of diapers–just the wet padding and soft crinkle of the plastic.

But the sound brought to mind my brief encounter with Pizza Girl at the elevator. My diaper–just as soaked then as it was now–made a different kind of crinkling noise then. It was…crisper. Like a fresh diaper, not the soaking wet one that I was wearing. And so that crinkling noise might not have been me. And so…

Oh, I couldn’t let myself start thinking crazy things like that. I simply wasn’t remembering the noise correctly.

I had to get ready. There’d be plenty of time to grope my diapers later. Begrudgingly, I untapped the diaper and opened it up, the air feeling cool on my damp skin.

I briefly flirted with the idea of calling Ava and just inviting her over to my place. We could just hang out in my room, crawling around in diapers and acting like babies. I wouldn’t–I couldn’t even imagine me saying the words aloud to her. But it was a nice idea.

Instead, I changed myself into a new diaper, adding a little extra powder to my groin in the hope that I’d be avoiding a rash from sitting in this last wet diaper for as long as I had. Is that even how baby powder works? Seemed like something Mommy would know. Or Lyndie.

Nope. Don’t think about Lyndie tonight.

Getting out of the house again helped to improve my mood some. Between the fresh diaper, some new clothes, and having actual plans, I felt sufficiently distracted as I made my way to the diner. It would be good to see Ava.

“You’re late,” she said, already standing outside of the diner when I arrived.

“It’s 7:02,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone. “I’d say that counts as being on time.”

“Interesting,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure if Mommy had taught you how to tell time yet.”

“Just as I’m surprised you were able to pull yourself off of your mommy’s tit long enough to make it here tonight.”

We hugged each other and it felt good. I could feel that we both needed that. I could feel my

“So,” she said when we were finally seated in a booth. “You looked a little distraught when you were leaving the office today. What was that about?”

“We’re going to jump into it so soon?”

She shrugged. “Well, I didn’t want to talk about my own problems, so I figured we’d talk about yours.”

It was a little relieving to be reminded that she had stresses and problems in her own life.

“I was almost hoping we could use tonight to distract ourselves from problems,” I said.

“You know how friends work, right? You’re supposed to be able to talk about those sorts of things.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “Distractions first. Then we can get into the meatier stuff.”

Ava shrugged and smiled. “So I heard you had a spectacular accident in your diaper yesterday. With a bunch of execs in the room?”

I laughed, unsure if this counted as a ‘distraction’ or not. “You heard about that?”

“Mom–er, Ms. Beaufort–was there, remember? Of course she was going to tell me about it.”

Even in a huge office building, our world was remarkably tiny. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“How was it?” she asked, her lips cracking into a slight grin.

“How was…messing my diaper in front of an audience like that?”

She nodded, looking a little more hungry for an answer now. “Come on, Clark. We both know it was humiliating and shameful and all that. But I think you and I also see the other side of it that nobody else sees.”

“Which, uh, side is that?”

“The side where we love feeling so humiliated and ashamed?”

I instinctively drew in a long breath, surprised to have been called out like that. My cheeks felt bright red again, and my body seemed to be stuck in place. But she was right. I expelled the air from my chest and started to laugh.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re right. It was fucking incredible.”

People like Ms. Heller and Lyndie were well aware of my love of the humiliation they dished out. But they didn’t completely get it. Ava got it.

“Tell me about it?” she asked, sliding forward a little in her side of the booth to be closer to me across the table.

If I thought about it much more, I probably wouldn’t have said a word. I’d have overthought every part of the story and struggled to find the words to describe how I felt. But I just opened my mouth and started talking instead–hoping that I’d just find the words as I went.

“I had already wet the diaper pretty heavily, and she was making me just sit there on the floor of her office. And then people just started showing up. And they all walked past me, barely acknowledging my presence. But, like, I think I really…”

“Loved it?” Ava asked, completing my sentence.

I nodded.

“I know that feeling. I love it. It’s like the adults are too busy to pay attention to the baby. Or, maybe, we’re just pieces of stinky…”

“Furniture?” I asked, this time finishing her sentence.

She laughed and nodded. “Exactly.”

“So I was sitting there, and all those people were around me–talking to each other like I wasn’t there. And I felt trapped there, you know? Like I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. I was just stuck in my own head while they did their best to ignore me. And the longer I sat there in my wet diaper, the more I found myself craving this, I dunno…complete and utterly devastating humiliation?”

Ava nodded again. “I know that feeling, yes. Well.”

“And it wasn’t just that I was thinking that messing my diaper sounded like the best option, right? I had managed to convince myself that it was the only option. I had to do it. I was a baby, and this was what babies did. Like, I think I would’ve been more upset at myself if I hadn’t pooped my pants.”

It felt intensely cathartic to say those words aloud. I looked around the diner, seeing other people in booths and at tables. Servers bustling back and forth with menus and trays of food. Nobody was looking at us. Nobody cared. And here we were, talking about pooping our pants.

It felt amazing.

“I pooped my pants in the back of an Uber last week,” Ava suddenly blurted out. Judging by how red her cheeks got, I suspected she either didn’t mean to be so blunt about it or she didn’t mean to say it as loud as she had.

I glanced around the diner again. Still no wandering eyes to our table. In fact, I realized I could barely make out the words being said at any of the tables around us. Even with the louder tables, the voices just sounded like streams of featureless noise. I felt reassured.

“Really?” I asked. I was very interested in hearing this story. “On purpose? What happened?”

“It’s funny,” she said, shrugging. “The further away we get from that moment, the less sure I am if it was an accident or if I had wanted to do it or not. Like, I didn’t get into the car thinking that I was going to do it. I don’t even think I knew that I had to go when I first got in the car. But suddenly it just, like, hit me, you know? Like I just had this overwhelming need–urge, maybe–to lean forward and push everything in my bowels into my diaper.”

“Like a baby,” I said, nodding.

She laughed. “Right. Like a baby. So… I did it. With no consideration for the driver. This poor guy. He’s just trying to do his job, and he’s been super-nice to me. But then I’m in his backseat, pushing this huge mess into my diaper. I was, like, grunting. You know? When you have to push hard?”

“I know all about that, yes.”

“I apologized profusely and swore it was an accident. And I’m sure he believed me. I doubt he knew that I was wearing a diaper. And what lady goes into an Uber just to purposefully poop their pants?”

“So? What happened after that?”

“Well I couldn’t go home to clean myself up. And I couldn’t go run the errands I had intended to do while wearing a stinky diaper. So…I asked the driver if he could take me, instead, to the one place I knew I could get some help.”

“The office?”

She nodded. “Yup. It was after hours and barely anyone was there. No Ms. Beaufort. No Lyndie. Not even Ms. Heller. So I went into Ms. Beaufort’s office, locked the door behind me, and spent a good half hour cleaning myself up.”

That was a lot to take in. Those mental images would stick with me for a long time. And good thing, too–I wanted to remember them again if there ever came a day that this cage wasn’t wrapped around my cock. As it was, I could feel the uncomfortable throb of my shriveled manhood in my diaper.

“You couldn’t go home?” I asked.

She sighed. “N-no.”

“Why not?”

“I, uhm, thought that we were using tonight to avoid talking about our problems?”

“A wise little baby once told me that friends are supposed to be able to talk about these sorts of things.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. “I hate being so wise.”

“Is everything okay at home?”

“Well…I wasn’t really ready to talk about this. But I guess there’s no time like the present. Do you remember the other day when I told you I had something I wanted to tell you?”

“Of course,” I said.

The smile slowly faded from her face and she folded her hands in front of her at the table.

“Clark, I’m leaving the company.”

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  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 3: In the Weeds] [Chapter 48 posted on 7/22/2023]

Great chapter. Lots of questions! Ava, Pizza Girl, Lyndie...

(Just a small unfinished sentence above: "I could feel my"...)

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I keep waiting for someone in this story to be unmasked as a Donnie Brasco character destined to bring this whole rickety house of cards tumbling down.  If Heller has been doing due diligence in the form of background checks, there is no indication of it anywhere in the story to date.  And that's odd, because the feds just love to go after this sort of thing.  The fines for violation of equal opportunity rules alone would run into the millions here.

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I’ve never handled change all that well. My mother had always been the one to remind me of this whenever something came along that changed the status quo.

For example, when I had finished the 5th grade, I would be moving from the elementary school I had known for the last five years–six, if Kindergarten was to be included–and on to middle school. Where the big kids were. Where there was no recess. A new library that didn’t have all my favorite places to sit and read. I cried about it that summer, unable to accept that an era had come to an end.

Of all the things my mother could’ve said to quell my fears about the new school, she sat me down and told me about how challenging it was to potty train me. She told me about how stubborn I had been about it. How I refused to give up my diapers and use the potty. She said that, once, I had marched myself all the way to the bathroom just so that I could squat and pee in my diaper next to the toilet.

And look at you now,” she had said. “You use the toilet like a big boy. And you certainly wouldn’t dream of going back and wetting your pants now, right?

And 11 year old me–naive to the future roughly 10 years ahead–thought that made sense. I sometimes thought about that conversation in the years that followed. When a new, scary, change was before me, I’d just remember that I had once been stubborn about potty training too. It had gotten me through high school graduation. And starting college. Hell, it helped when I started my internship–though it seemed rather ironic now.

“Clark, I’m leaving the company.”

I thought of this story again as I sat across the booth from Ava. It seemed less relevant now. In fact, it was almost confusing. Here I was, once again in diapers. Years later, diapers had won over the toilet. How was I ever going to adapt to change again?

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s complicated,” she said, sighing.

“So tell me everything, then. Every single detail.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I hoped she wasn’t serious. And if she was, I hoped that there was a way for me to convince her to change her mind. I couldn’t imagine the office without her now. I needed Ava to be there.

“My mom found my diapers,” she said.


I didn’t know Ava’s mother. I could argue that I really didn’t even know Ava all that well yet. But this resonated with me. With my own mother’s arrival approaching, the thought of her finding out about my diapers was the absolute worst case scenario. Apocalyptic.

“She didn’t mean to,” Ava said. “And it’s not like she just found a single diaper. She found, like, baby stuff. Pacifiers, you know? It’s hard to make excuses for all that.”

“So she knows everything?”

“She knows enough,” she said, nodding. “She doesn’t know about Ms. Beaufort or what goes on at the office. But if she did…I don’t think it’d be good. She’d tear that place apart.”

I gulped nervously, imagining my mother’s hands wrapped around Ms. Heller’s neck after learning that I was being kept in diapers and chastity for her amusement.

“I have to leave,” Ava continued. “I don’t want my mother to learn any more than she has, you know? And…things are kind of weird between me and her right now. I want to rebuild our relationship, and I don’t know if I can while I’m at the office.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Because I don’t trust myself,” she said. “Ms Beaufort–everyone there, really–creates this bubble, you know? And I lose myself in it. Like that story I told you about pooping my diaper in the Uber? I shouldn’t be doing that. But it’s like I lose control of myself. And…I love it. I really do. Like, it actually excited me when I told you that story just a few minutes ago.”

“But if you like it, and your mother doesn’t know about the office, why can’t you just…be more careful and keep doing what you’re doing?”

“I don’t trust myself,” she repeated. “I had been really lazy about leaving my baby things around. That’s how my mother found out. And the deeper I fall into this world of breastfeeding and diapers, the more I find myself throwing caution to the wind. And maybe there’ll be a point in my life when that’s okay. But it’s coming between me and my mother now. I…I think I need to step back a little.”

“Have you talked to Ms. Beaufort yet?” I asked.

“Not yet. I typed up a letter. I think I just needed to talk to someone about it first.”

“Wow,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”

“You know,” she continued, “the day that my mother found out about the diapers–it was the same day I had talked to Lyndie about the idea of moving in with her.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“We didn’t actually make plans yet, or anything. But she’s going to be living alone soon and I wanted to get out of my mother’s house. It made sense.”

“Do you think that’ll happen if you leave the company?”

“I don’t think I want that to happen either, regardless.”

I wanted to tell her about Lyndie–about her suspected betrayal–but this didn’t seem like the time.

“Why not?” I asked.

“For the same reason I think it’d be bad for me to stay working under Ms. Beaufort. I have no control over myself. And living with Lyndie, where I could go about living like a baby, unchecked? I’d probably turn into a literal infant and Lyndie would have to start dropping me off at daycare in the morning.”

“I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “That sounds kind of cute.”

She laughed. “Clark, do I sound crazy?”

There seemed to be no point in being anything other than completely honest. “I want you to stay, Ava. It’s hard for me to imagine you not being there. But. You have to do what’s right for yourself too. And nobody knows that better than you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I needed to hear someone say that. All of that.”

“Do you think you’ll give up diapers entirely?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll take a break from it. Re-evaluate. Figure some things out about myself first. Then, I’ll see if I still want them. Or…need them.”

I could see myself benefitting from the same course of action. I wouldn’t, of course–I wasn’t ready to give up my diapers.

“But,” she said, trying to rekindle the conversation after the booth had gone silent for a few moments. “I’m wearing a diaper now. I haven't given it all up just yet.”

This helped to calm me a little. There was still time for her to reconsider. Time for her to find a different way to approach her crisis without abandoning her job.

“So, if we’re talking about our personal traumas now,” she said. “I do believe that it’s your turn.”


“Come on. I told you a lot about me. More than I’ve said to anyone else.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why did you look so upset when you left the office today?” she asked.

I didn’t really want to talk about Lyndie–especially after everything Ava had just told me. But, if we were going to start vomiting up uncomfortable truths, it seemed like a topic worth discussing.

“Do you know who this Thomas Pritchard guy is?” I asked.

“I don’t know him, but I know of him.”

“He was initially mad that Lyndie and I had gotten promotions and he didn’t. But since then, I guess he’s learned a few things about the assistants.”


I nodded. “I think so. The company is going to have him sign an NDA in exchange for a settlement of some sort.”

“But how does he know what he thinks he knows?”

“Someone is telling him about it,” I said, shrugging.

“Who would do that?”

I sighed, swallowing hard. It was even harder to say than I thought it would be. “I think…it might be Lyndie.”


“I know. It doesn’t make any sense, but… I saw him leaving the nursery today. It was just the two of them in there. Why else would he be in there?”

“There has to be another explanation,” Ava said. “She would never rat us out! She’s our friend!”

“What other explanation could there be? You can’t go into the nursery without seeing everything. All the diapers. The changing table. Like, he knows everything now.”

“But…Lyndie wouldn’t…”

“I don’t know what happened,” I said. “I don’t know what she said to him, and I don’t know why. But something happened, and I can’t ignore that.”

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Ava said. “But I feel like that only reaffirms I should be leaving that job.”

I shrugged. “I mean, I understand why you’d feel that way.”

“Clark, if we can’t trust Lyndie–who can we trust?”

It felt a little dramatic, though I’d have been lying if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing. Our world–our lives as ‘babies’–seemed dependent on everything working the way it was supposed to. The right amount of privacy. The right amount of the staff not knowing what was going on behind closed doors. With big careers on the line, was there a point in which Ms. Heller or Ms. Beaufort would throw us under the bus to save themselves? It was a question that I was terrified to know the answer for.

“You can trust me,” I said.

She nodded. “I know I can. And you can trust me, too.”

Food came, and we ate. We had mostly fallen silent, save for some small talk here and there–neither of us seemed to be sure what we were supposed to be talking about now. Somewhere, amidst the quiet, I wet my diaper. As per usual, it barely registered as something I was doing until I felt the diaper growing warm and swelling between my legs. I wondered if she noticed my cheeks reddening, but she either didn’t, or didn’t mention it.

“So,” I said, figuring it was my turn to end this round of silence. “Maybe it was more fun when we were distracting ourselves from our problems.”

“Those are problems for later,” she said, a slight smile returning to her face. “Your mother isn’t here yet. I haven’t quit my job yet. This Pritchard guy hasn't blown up our world yet. We don’t know for sure that Lyndie has done anything wrong yet. Right now…we’re just two friends getting food.”

“In diapers,” I added. “Because we’re big babies.”

“The biggest babies,” she said.

“Are you, uh, staying dry?” I asked, my hand feeling my own warm diaper under the table.

She shook her head. “Not really.”


“I’m…damp. And what about you?”

“Wet. For sure.”

“Maybe I’m a little more than just damp,” she offered, shrugging.

“I’d offer to have you come back to my place and change…but I’m just not sure I’d be in the mood for Evan’s snark when I bring you home with me.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Likewise, I don’t think waddling into my house with a boy–a boy in diapers–is the best move right now. It’s hard enough dealing with my mother’s judging eyes as it is.”

“My diaper is probably good for a while yet,” I said. “After this, if you want to keep hanging out, maybe we could take a walk or something?”

Ava’s face lit up a little. “That sounds perfect.”

It was a win-win. We were friends who wanted to spend time together. But also, neither of us wanted to go home. Neither of us wanted to return to the real-world and be one step closer to having to face the things we didn’t want to face. So we’d just pretend it didn’t exist for a little longer.

After we settled the bill, we laughed at each other as we made our way out of the diner. Each of us could see that the other had that tell-tale ‘saggy-diaper’ stroll that we knew too well ourselves. The sort of thing that, hopefully, wasn’t as obvious to anyone else.

“You walk like a toddler,” Ava said to me once we got outside. Away from people, her voice was a little louder, and hearing her statement echo down the street caused me to blush some.

“Y-you should talk. I’m, uh, surprised you weren’t crawling out of the diner.”

“Good one,” she said, her tone steeped in sarcasm.

We started walking. Neither of us had suggested a place to go, we were just moving. Just as I thought I was following her, I wondered if she thought she was following me.

“I’ll have to practice my diaper-specific shit-talking.”

She feigned a gasp. “Do you kiss your mommy with that mouth?”

“Don’t tell her I cursed,” I joked. “She’d spank me, for sure.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love that.”

I shrugged.

“Speaking of kissing…”

I should’ve seen this coming. “Yeah?”

“I hope I didn’t make things too weird when I tried to kiss you last week,” said Ava. “It was just an…impulse.”

“Even Ms. Heller seemed a little confused that I didn’t kiss you back,” I said, shrugging.

“She told Ms. Beaufort about it, you know?”

I nodded. “She said she’d do that.”

I tried to remember the conversation I had with Mommy when I told her about Ava kissing me. She had seemed relatively unphased by the news–which had surprised me because the only reason I hadn’t reciprocated the kiss was due to my fear of Mommy having a bad reaction to it. In fact, she had only one request: That I tell her about it first if I later decided I wanted to pursue any sort of relationship with Ava. Or, as Mommy had put it, if I felt any special way about Ava.

Waddling down the sidewalk with her now in the streetlight, our diapers plenty moist as we joked with each other, I was feeling some special ways. I almost laughed at the thought of stopping and ducking into an alley so I could quickly text Mommy. “It’s happening! Special ways!”

I’d do no such thing. It felt good to be a 20-something guy again. Sure, I was in a diaper and my cock was just about useless. But I was out in the town with a smiling young woman and, goddammit, it felt like a welcome change of pace.

“Did Ms. Beaufort care?” I asked.

“She wants me to kiss boys and have relationships. She tried to set me up before?”

“Really? With, like, guys from the office?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I have no idea where she found these guys.”

“So you actually went out with these guys?”

“Mmhmm. I mean, she’s probably tried to set me up with, like, four or five guys by now. But I’ve only actually gone on two dates now.”

“And how did that go?”

Her dramatic sigh was probably enough to go on, though she seemed willing to elaborate. “The first guy just wasn’t compatible with me. He was good looking and smart–I could see why she wanted me to go out with him. But he just didn’t have any sense of…whimsy. I think the date was pretty much over before we even finished our appetizer.”

“Whimsy?” I asked. “Is that a quality you’re looking for in a partner?”

She shrugged. “Sure, why not. Are you whimsical, Clark?”

“Not on purpose, I don’t think.”

She giggled. “Self-awareness of your own level of whimsy is, I think, whimsical.”

“What about the other date?”

“It went better, I guess,” she said. “Though ‘better’ doesn’t mean it was good. But this one not working out was my fault.”

“What happened?”

“I peed my pants,” Ava said, matter-of-factly. “And I wasn’t wearing diapers. I just…forgot that I wasn’t a baby for a single night. Next thing you know, piss is soaking through my jeans and puddling on the floor below me at the bar.”

“Oh my god. What did you do?”

“What could I do? I ran! I don’t even think I said goodbye to him, I just grabbed my purse and fled the bar. O’Halloran’s over on 16th? I still can’t bring myself to go back there. I’m terrified that whoever mopped up my piss will see me and remember me.”

“How long ago was this? I’m sure they’ve forgotten by now.”

“A year, give or take. But I doubt I’ll feel any different when it’s been ten years. I’m never going back to O'Halloran's.”

“At least you’re wearing diapers tonight. Like a good girl.”

She quickly laughed off my jest, her cheeks a little rosy as we strolled forward. “But it was a good date before I pissed myself.”


“Mommy–uhm, Ms. Beaufort…”

It was always reassuring to know that I wasn’t the only one with this problem.

“...she observed that I have a tendency to, uhm, wet myself when I get excited?”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s pretty cute.”

She shrugged, her cheeks a bit more red now. “It makes dating hard…unless I’m in a diaper. And then dating is hard for an entirely different reason.”

“I think the solution is pretty obvious,” I said, shrugging.


“You have to date people who are also wearing diapers.”

“That makes sense,” she said, a wry smile on her face. “But where am I going to find another guy in diapers?”

I thought I had a pretty good reply lined up–something about just following your nose–but as I opened my mouth to speak, she had taken a step in front of me. It all happened so fast–her face leaning in towards mine, her lips pressing against mine.

This time I kissed her back.

A minute later, when she pulled her wet lips back from mine, she smiled at me mischievously. “See? I got excited and…wet myself again.”

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  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 3: In the Weeds] [Chapter 49 posted on 7/30/2023]

A nice change of pace.  It makes me wonder whether Ms. Heller had a reason to put Clark in chastity.  It certainly gives her a chance to screen any potential romantic relationships that Clark might be entertaining.  Would she approve of Ava because she is a diapered employee, but turn thumbs down on a girlfriend not in diapers or outside the company?

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My entire romantic history was embarrassingly brief and forgettable.

My first kiss was with Becky Sewart during a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven when I was in 8th Grade. Our names had been drawn at random from a hat–one from the ‘boy hat’ and one from the ‘girl hat.’ We were ushered into Nicole Greenwood’s bedroom and the door was shut behind us.

Becky and I had never talked before that. I wasn’t entirely sure we went to the same school. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing at this party. ‘Boy/girl’ parties weren’t really my scene, and I was only there at my friend Daniel’s request. While I had no doubt that there were girls at this party who would’ve scoffed at the prospect of making out with the shy kid in the Beatles tee, Becky was not one of those girls.

Becky was very upfront with me. She had never kissed anyone either, and she wanted to. She was ravenous. And so we clumsily grasped at each other, mashing our mouths together in an effort to unlock the mysteries of kissing. It was fine. We never saw each other again after that.

It would be another three years before I kissed someone else again. This time, it was my partner in Chemistry Lab, Michelle Slater. We had been making eyes at each other for most of the semester, though neither of us seemed especially adept at flirting. We would eventually start ‘dating,’ which wasn’t all that different from being friends. We ate lunch together, talked on the phone on occasion, and shared small kisses when we were absolutely sure that nobody else was looking.

We finally managed to get some solid canoodling in when her parents went out of town for a weekend. All I had to do was avoid being spotted by her older brother–easy enough considering he had never left his bedroom–and we had most of the house to ourselves.

That was when I had lost my virginity–somewhere amidst the kissing and experimental touching, we stumbled into sex. Admittedly, it didn’t last all that long–I didn’t last all that long–and I’m still not entirely sure either of us actually enjoyed it.

We broke up two weeks later. Eventually, she’d come out as a lesbian–leading to the few who knew our history together to tease that being with me had been so bad that she swore off men altogether.

They might not have been wrong.

All this to say that it was a surprise to me when Ava pulled her lips from mine again so that she could say: “You’re a really good kisser.”

We had meandered into a small park by this time, a quiet place that was free of onlookers and bright lights. We had started by sitting on a bench as we made out with each other, but somewhere along the way, we ended up on the grass.

My cock throbbed in my cage as her lips connected with mine. As her diaper rubbed against my diaper. As my fingers snuck under her shirt to touch her skin. As she moaned into my ears.

As frustrating as it was to be denied the ability to let my cock grow, it didn’t feel like the worst thing to have the cage in place. If I had access to my manhood, I’d probably use it. And considering that I hadn’t gotten the pre-approval from Mommy that I once said I’d get before a situation like this, maybe it was good that something was stopping me from getting into any more trouble.

But, fuck, I wanted trouble. I wanted it so bad.

“Your diaper must be pretty wet by now,” I said, my hand slipping between her legs to feel the bloated padding through her pants. “With all this excitement?”

“Everytime I think my bladder is empty, I feel another little stream trickle out of me,” she said.

Her hand stroked the front of my pants again. I knew what she was looking for–the firm lump of a stiff cock buried in my diaper. But everytime, I could almost feel the confusion in her fingers when she only found the stiff cage in its place.

“I wish I had a key,” I said.

“Me too,” Ava said. “Do you think Ms. Heller would give it to me if I asked nicely?”

“There’d probably be some stipulations,” I laughed. “Like, we could have sex–but only if she watched.”

She shrugged. “Fine by me.”


“I mean, that sounds really fun while I’m all horny like this,” she said, laughing. “If I actually had to do that? I dunno. Maybe I’d poop my pants and cry.”

I felt another pang of discomfort in my crotch. “Is it bad that I, uh, think that sounds kind of hot?”

“You’re such a dirty little baby, Clarky.”

“Takes one to know one.”

We didn’t actually know each other all that well. We knew about each other’s diapers. We had the shared experience of our surreal work environment. But I didn’t know her favorite color. I didn’t know what sorts of hobbies she had. We could be incompatible in almost every other way.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, figuring I had to start somewhere.

“Purple, I think. But also blues and pinks. Cooler colors. You?”

“Green,” I said. “Favorite TV show?”

“Uhm, don’t judge me,” she said. “Downton Abbey?”

“Why would I judge that?”

“It’s so…basic.”

I laughed, realizing that I didn’t know all that much about Downton Abbey or the social ramifications of being a fan of it. “Well, as long as we’re not judging, I’ll admit that my favorite show is, uhm, Mythical Knights of Far Earth.

“I’ve never even heard of that,” she said.


She tried her hardest to keep her laughter contained, but it still managed to explode out from her lips: “Ha!”

“I know, I know…”

“I never really thought of you as the anime type.”

“I’m not. Or, well, I guess I’m not into it as much these days. But I was when I was in high school.”

“Educate me,” she said. “What is Mythical Knights of Far Earth about?”

I sighed, unprepared to have to summarize the epicness of a series I doubted she’d have much interest in. “Well, it’s, like, a fantasy story. With knights and dragons? But there’s also spaceships and lasers and…”

“I’m kind of loving this already,” she said. “Is it streaming?”

“No…it came out, like, 15 years ago, I think. It was never super-popular but it has a pretty big cult following. I, uhm, have the DVDs, so if you want to see them…”

She nodded. “I’d like that very much. And, if you liked anime, there’s another show I really like that you might know.”

“Which one?”

Stargirl Regine in Love?”

I could imagine the DVD case–it was something I must’ve seen countless times in my teenaged, more anime-obsessed, years: A young woman with a flowing cloak, surrounded by countless smiling, boyish, faces.

“I know of it,” I said. “But I don’t think I know anything about it.”

“You’re in for a treat, then. It’s about Regine, obviously, a sorceress who always has to save the world with her magic, right? But she can only activate her powers when she kisses someone–and it has to be someone she’s never kissed before.”

“That actually sounds pretty fun.”

“It’s mostly dating antics with the occasional battle against a monster,” Ava said. “And I have those DVDs.”

It felt really assuring to have more in common with Ava than diapers. It wasn’t just that we both had our favorite anime–it was the excitement in our voices as we talked about them. The way our hands continued to touch each other as we talked.

“Looks like we’ll need to have some sort of viewing party,” she said.

“The only bummer is that we’d have to wait.”

“Wait?” she asked. “Wait for what?”

“For Ms. Heller to, y’know, unlock me from chastity.”

She laughed, playfully shoving my shoulder. “Dirty little baby.”

“What? You weren’t thinking the same thing?”

She shrugged playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Anime and chill?” I teased. “Marinating in our diapers?”

My smile faded a little as I said the words aloud. Soon, if she went through with her plan, Ava wouldn’t be in the office. She might not even be in diapers.

“I didn’t leave yet,” she said, reading my face.

“But you are leaving?”

She nodded. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t ever talk to each other again. In fact, I hope that we talk to each other more than we’ve ever talked to each other before once I leave.”

“I hope so too.”

Her hand stroked the front of my pants again. “Can I see your diaper?”

I cautiously looked around us. The park was deserted–I didn’t even see people walking on the sidewalks around the perimeter. The windows in the closest houses were either dark or the blinds were pulled closed.

“Only if I can see yours.”

“Deal,” she said.

I quickly unfastened my pants, opening them up enough to show her the front of my diaper. She wasted no time in reaching forward to grasp it, gently squeezing the saturated padding.

“Pretty wet,” she said.

“That’s what they’re there for,” I said, shrugging.

She quickly repositioned herself a little, giving herself enough room to open her own pants, shimmying them down her thighs far enough that her diaper was almost completely exposed. Even in the dim light of the park, it was clear that it was very wet. Wetter than mine, were I to guess.

I watched as she took a look around the park herself. Deeming the coast to be sufficiently clear, her grin turned a little more playful as I watched her push her pants further down her legs. All the way down. When they reached her ankles, she pulled her sneakers off and set them aside, allowing her to completely remove her pants.

“Ava, wh-what are you doing?”

“Living my best baby life while I still can,” she said. “Lie back.”

She pushed against my chest with her palm, lowering my back to the grass. She took another cautious look around the park before throwing one of her legs over my horizontal body so that she could straddle me. Her wet diaper was now atop mine. I felt her slowly shift her hips, seeming to find just the right position. In a moment, it became clear what she had been looking for–the bottom of her diaper settled atop my caged cock.

Her body swayed back and forth ever-so-slightly, grinding her diaper against my cage. I wouldn’t have guessed she could feel the rigidness of my chastity through two wet diapers, but there she was–moaning softly into the night air.

“I…I wish you could feel this,” she said.

“I do too,” I replied.

Though it wasn’t like I didn’t feel anything. My cock was, of course, straining against the confines of its enclosure, while the rest of my body felt electrified with pleasure–likely compensating for the inability to grow hard.

“Y-you don’t mind if I, uff, use you a little bit, do you?” she asked.

It was certainly nice of her to ask. “Not at all.”

“I think about you a lot,” she said. “Like…when I’m touching myself.”

“If I could touch myself, I’d be thinking about you too.”

“W-wouldn’t it be fun if, uhhm, you could fuck me? And we were both, like, in our diapers?”

“Mmhmm,” I moaned. I had definitely thought about that before.

“Is it bad that I want you to fuck me while I’m in a messy diaper, Clark? B-because I think about that a lot.”

Goddamn, I wanted to be free of that cage so badly. “That would be so…naughty.”

“You think?”

“Only, like, the naughtiest thing ever.”


Her body continued to rock atop me steadily. I could feel her shifting more of her weight from her knees to her bottom. It was as fantastic as it was torturous. So close to being inside her, yet so far away. She was using me, and I kind of loved it. I almost wanted to run and tell Mommy about it after. I suspected she’d love to know all about how Ava got off at my expense.

I could feel some fresh dampness on my skin, and realized that one of us–maybe of us–had a leak. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, as both of our diapers were quite saturated, and with the way she was grinding on me it seemed inevitable. I didn’t mind it. I liked feeling the wetness seep into the fabric of my pants.

“Maybe you’d, ooh, mess yourself too,” she said. “A-and our dirty diapers would just, like, mush against each other as you fucked me.”

“You are an absolutely filthy little baby, Ava.”

“Fuck,” she hissed as her back arched. “I…I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said.

“I think, uhm, I’m…uff…going to…”

She didn’t have to say the word for me to know what was happening. Her legs tensed while I watched her shoulders buck and twist. She sputtered a series of sounds from her mouth, half-words like “Guh-” and “Ba-.” And when she was done, she slid off my body and collapsed beside me.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said. Not too sorry, I suspected–given her grin. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

“You have quite the imagination,” I said.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” she asked, her voice faint with exhaustion.

“Not at all. I’ve never seen that side of you before.”

“Nobody has.”

“And you want to leave the company? You want to leave this? Are you sure about that?”

“No, I don’t want any of that,” she said. “But I need a place of my own. And I need a job that doesn’t make me lust after the naughtiest things on earth. And I need a good relationship with my mother. After I have those things? Then I’ll put a diaper on again.”

“And poop in it?” I asked, smiling.

She laughed. “A big one. The stinkiest one I can manage. And I’ll invite you over to be the first one to sniff it.”

“Don’t tell me things like that,” I said. “I’ll end up staring at my phone 24/7 until I get the call.”

“You let me know when you’re out of your cage first,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

For a while, we just laid in the grass, looking up at the night sky and taking in the ambient sounds of the park. At some point–and I wasn’t exactly sure when, as I had begun to doze off a little–she had slid herself back into her pants again.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Should we call it a night?”

“Do we have to?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure my mother already has a few questions about what I was doing tonight. The sooner I can answer them, the sooner I can go to bed.”

“Tonight was nice,” I said.

“Even the part where I rubbed my diaper on you?”

Especially that part,” I said, my hand stroking my pants–still feeling the dampness from whatever pee Ava had managed to squeeze out of our diapers.

“D-did I get your pants wet?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Laundry day is tomorrow,” I said. “Or, at least, it is now.”

We helped each other up and we took a minute or two to straighten and recollect ourselves. She put her shoes on and fixed her hair, while I zipped my moist pants up and brushed some grass and dirt from my clothes.

“I think I’m just going to call an Uber to drive me home,” she said. “Are you okay to get home?”

I nodded. “I’ll be good.

We had a few more minutes together as we waited for her car to arrive. We somehow managed to avoid talking about work or diapers for a whole ten minutes–instead revisiting our earlier conversation about obscure anime that we thought the other would like.

And then she was gone.

I was tempted to just walk home. It wouldn’t have been a short walk, but the weather seemed perfect for it. Not to mention that I’d have loved the time to just think and process the evening. Though–it wasn’t a trek I wanted to make with a sopping wet diaper like the one I was wearing. That was just asking for a painful rash. But I looked around the park again, finding that it was still completely silent and deserted. I lowered my pants one more time, removed the diaper, and heaved the heavy blob into a nearby trash can.

Walking home in damp pants, sans diaper or underpants, probably wasn’t much better of an idea–though I did it anyway. I took my time, rotating through the thoughts that weighed most heavily on my mind.



My mother.


Lyndie… I really didn’t want to be mad at Lyndie. I didn’t want to have a reason to be mad at Lyndie. The answer was quite simple, I realized: I’d have to talk to her. Tell her what I knew, and then see how she responded. It was all I could do.

I’d have to put on my big-boy pants tomorrow and do that. Figuratively speaking, of course–I was sure that my diaper wouldn’t be clean when it came time for that conversation.

I also briefly humored the idea of talking to Mommy about what had happened with Ava tonight. Somewhere in that conversation, I could even pepper in the fact that I’d like to be freed from my cage–even if it was just for a single evening.

But, no. Not yet. For now, I wanted tonight to be just mine and Ava’s.

Besides, before I did anything else, I’d need to deal with Lyndie.


One day until my mother visits.

When the alarm on my phone went off, I was already awake. I had been awake for at least an hour–though it could’ve been longer than that. I had crawled into bed late, slept for what felt like a minute, and then I woke without being able to get back to sleep again.

I couldn’t recall another time when I had this much on my mind at once. It felt like I was…drowning. Throughout my life, I’d exaggerate and say that I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but this actually felt like being on the verge of one. Maybe it was a panic attack–I wasn’t sure I had ever really had one before.

‘In the weeds.’ That’s what my mother used to say when she had too much going on. I think I’ve heard it said a few times around the office too.

As the morning progressed, the feelings of panic, dread, and anxiety began to meld with my lack of sleep. There were moments when I couldn’t even remember why I felt so anxious, and others where I’d find new–often insignificant–things to stress about.

Is there enough cream in this coffee? Is that woman wearing shorts? It’s not warm enough for that. Did I remember to bring my wallet? Does this subway car feel especially wobbly today?

My mother’s arrival was closer than it had ever been–and under any other circumstances, it would’ve been enough to send me into a fit of anxiety by itself. And yet that was the furthest thing from my mind.

I was heading to work, where I’d see Ava. Just hours before, we had been in the park together. We kissed. She had grinded her diaper against mine. And now, we’d have to pretend to be just colleagues. I’d have to somehow not let it slip to Mommy that things had happened with Ava without her knowing about it.

And Mommy–well, she knew everything. If she didn’t know it yet, she would eventually come to know. And then what? What would she say? Do?

Too, I had to talk to Lyndie. I had to.

Speaking of…

“Would you be offended if I said you looked like a zombie?” she asked, appearing at my side in the office’s lobby.

“Like, the sad and mopey type?” I asked. “Or the kind who are ravenous and dangerous?”

“Oh, the first one, for sure,” she replied, nodding. “You’ve got a real shamble going on. Though, that could just be your diaper, too. Are you wearing more than one today? A thicker diaper than usual, perhaps?”

“N-no,” I said, shaking my head. Though it was possible that, in my sleep-deprived state, I hadn’t affixed the diaper’s tapes as tight as I usually did–making my diaper fit a little more loosely.

“You look dreadful. Can I get you something? Coffee? Aspirin?”

Lyndie still sounded like a friend and ally. I wanted to trust her. I was tempted to ask her right then and there what had happened with her and Thomas Pritchard, but I bit my tongue. I wasn’t ready to talk about that–or much of anything–yet.

“No,” I said. “But I do appreciate it.”

“A baba, then?” she teased. “Your paci?”

I wondered how she’d react if I told her that I found her teasing to be comforting. The caring jabs of my loving…older sister, perhaps. And, honestly, the thought of suckling on a pacifier sounded quite nice.

“Not just yet,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Suit yourself, baby.”

We parted ways soon after–she’d be headed off to the nursery, while I’d have my morning check-in with Mommy.

“Ah, there’s my baby,” Mommy said as I closed her office door behind me. The sound of her voice–the very specific tone that she used when she talked to me–was still exciting.

“Good morning, Mommy.”

“Looking a little ragged this morning, Baby. A long night?”

Did I look that bedraggled? And did she know about where I was the night before, or was this just a playful question?

“I…I just didn’t sleep too well.”

“Aw, poor baby. Well, if you need, perhaps you can rest your head on Mommy’s breasts for a bit and take a snooze.”


“Of course,” she said, nodding. “When you come over tonight, maybe we’ll make some time for it.”

“Tonight…” I said. I had, somehow, completely forgotten that I had made plans with Mommy to go to her house. Any other week and I would’ve been obsessing over that. Now, it felt like a footnote to an otherwise intense week.

“You are still coming over tonight, yes?” she asked.

There was a small part of me–almost microscopic in size, though it still existed–that wanted to ask if we could reschedule.

“Of course,” I said, nodding.

“Excellent. I was originally thinking that I’d have a car pick you up from your apartment, but I don’t see why you can’t just come home with me after work. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“Now then. Let’s see how this morning’s diaper is looking.”

While Mommy, herself, could still excite me–rather easily–the routine of the morning diaper check no longer seemed as humiliating as it once did. This was just how business was done around here.

“Dry,” she said, a bit of disappointment in her voice. “Not only that, but you did a pretty shoddy job of putting this diaper on. Did you put this on before you went to sleep last night?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you would’ve slept better with a better secured diaper.”

I doubted she was right, though I would never know for sure. “Maybe.”

“You haven’t had a morning tinkle, Baby?”

Tinkle. I had to hand it to her, she could still bring out the redness in my cheeks with just a single childish word.

“N-no, not yet, Mommy.”

“I’m concerned that when you do finally wet yourself, you’re going to leak all over the place. You probably don’t want to have soggy pants while at work, hmm?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“I think it’d be in your best interest to be supervised while you pee yourself then.”

I nodded, my cheeks maintaining their current shade of pink.

“That said,” she continued, shrugging, “I have a meeting or two this morning that I need to be in. As much as I’d love to watch you fill your diaper, I don’t think I’ll have time. So, how about I send you off to Lyndie’s? She can make sure there’s no trouble. And, when you’re done, she can even get you into a brand new diaper. Win-win.”

I swallowed nervously. I wasn’t ready to talk to Lyndie yet. But I also couldn’t tell Mommy that. I didn’t want to accuse Lyndie of wrongdoing until I knew for myself.

Maybe fate needed me to just get that conversation over with.

“Okay,” I said.

“Perfect. Pull up your pants and head on over. I’ll call her and let her know you’re on your way.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

She leaned in, kissing my forehead. “Such a good baby. I’m looking forward to tonight, you know.”

“M-me too.” It was sort of true.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said as I hoisted my pants up and began making my way towards the door.


“I made you a reservation at Ferdinand’s tomorrow morning. 10:00 AM. Trust me, your mother’s panties will be blown right off after she tastes their food.”

“I’m not sure I want to see that…”

“Just don’t look,” she winked. “And, as promised, I’ll foot the bill. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” I said, feeling genuinely grateful. Still, I couldn’t fully consider, or appreciate, her gesture just yet. There were still a few steps to go before I could start thinking about my mother’s arrival again.

Between the morning coffee finally kicking in and the release of endorphins I got from visiting Mommy, I felt a little less zombie-ish as I made my way to the nursery.

But it also could’ve been my bladder that was adding some pep to my step. I was long overdue for my morning piss, and just talking about using my diaper seemed to remind my body that this was the most urgent of matters.

“I’m glad that I wasn’t the only one concerned about your shoddy diapering job this morning,” Lyndie said as I entered the nursery. “I’m glad she sent you over to me. Mommy knows best, you know?”

I sighed and nodded. I wished I could’ve been a little more animated–even if I was just faking it. But I found it hard to look her in the eyes.

“Shoes off, pants off,” she ordered. “Just in case there’s a leak. It’s for your own good.”

I did as she asked, silently pulling my clothes off and setting them aside.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said. “What’s up with you?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I said. It had been a good enough excuse for Mommy, and I hoped it would be here too.

“Sure,” she said, nodding. “But it’s something else, isn’t it? Some sort of stress.”

“W-well…my mother is coming over tomorrow. And I’m going to Mommy’s house tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lyndie cooed. “She told me about that! I bet that’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm,” I said. I hoped that sounded convincing.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you can, uhm, start peeing. I’ve got an eye on your pampers.”

I wanted to pee so badly. My body was craving release. And yet, I held strong. I wasn’t ready to go just yet. It wasn’t even a completely conscious decision–as if my body was holding the satisfaction of release for ransom. You can fill your diaper after you’ve talked to Lyndie.

“Actually…there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“I, uhm, stopped by the nursery yesterday afternoon because I needed a…change.”

“Hm,” she said. “I don’t recall seeing you.”

“Right,” I continued. “I didn’t actually come in. I got up to the door and I saw someone coming out.”

“Ah,” Lyndie said, nodding. “I see. You saw Anderson.”

“Thomas Pritchard,” I said. “Yeah.”

“I suppose that probably looked pretty odd.”

“Mommy–er, Ms. Heller–said that Pritchard knew about things he shouldn’t have. Like…diapers. She thinks that he might be…talking to someone.”

“I see,” Lyndie said, slowly nodding. “And you see him leaving the nursery yesterday and leap to the assumption that he and I are in…cahoots?”

“Lyndie, I’m trying very hard not to assume anything at all. I didn’t say anything to Ms. Heller–I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Surprisingly mature for someone who was sent to me because I had to watch them piss in a diaper.”

I shrugged. “You’re my friend. You deserve the chance to explain yourself.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Clarky. I might have broken a few rules.”

I sighed. “Th-there’s still a chance we could correct this, you know? We could go and talk to Ms. Heller and…”

“I’m not a mole,” Lyndie said. “He knew about things like diapers before I ever invited him into the nursery.”

“Then…why did you invite him in at all?”

“Do you know what I hate most about corporate life, Clarky?”

I shrugged.

“Bureaucracy,” she said. “Systems. You can’t just do anything. You have to have meetings. And a project manager. A committee. Then more meetings. It has to get approved by countless departments–people you’ve never seen or heard of before. And I saw that happening here. They’ve got lawyers. The board. They’re working up contracts and non-disclosure agreements. It’ll all have to get vetted and rubber-stamped. And for what? So some dickhead can feel vindicated?”

“Lyndie, what did you do?”

“I did business my own way,” she said. “I cut out the middlemen–all of them–and took matters into my own hands.”

“But…what did you do?”

“I showed him the nursery.”

“You didn’t...”

“I did,” she said, her smile growing wide across her face. “He was so eager to be promoted. The poor little thing was suffering from some real FOMO, you know? He wanted what you had. And, so, I offered it to him. I showed him what it was like to get the promotion that you did.”

“You actually… He actually liked what he saw?”

“I think so,” Lyndie said, nodding. “You know, your Mommy has taught me a lot of things, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that some boys just have this primal need to be controlled and, well, coddled. He’s not any different. He has this cute little fantasy of standing up to the corporate suits and blackmailing them. But I’m offering him an alternative, and I think he might bite.”


She shrugged. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at them, Clark.”

“And so what now?” I asked.

“We wait,” she said. “We’ll see if he comes crawling back to the nursery. Maybe even literally. If he does, I’ll put him in a nice thick diaper and ask him nicely to knock off all this nonsense.”

“And if he doesn’t want that? Or doesn’t come back?”

She shrugged again. “Then it’s corporate’s problem. Let the lawyers eat him alive. Though I have a feeling I’ll be seeing him again.”

“Nobody knows about this? Not Ms. Heller? Ms. Beaufort? Ms. Tamberlin?”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t think Mommy’ll like this much.”

Lyndie laughed. “No, I doubt she will either. But you know what they say: it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. And if my plan takes Thomas off the table, she’ll likely be thanking me.”

It seemed like a bit of a dangerous gamble to me, but I kept my mouth shut. So far, I didn’t have to be a part of this drama, and I preferred it that way.

“Now then,” she said. “Are you feeling better? Can we still be friends?”

I exhaled–releasing a good amount of the stress I had been holding inside. I may not have completely agreed with Lyndie’s methods, but I knew she was still looking out for everyone. She wasn’t a turncoat. It was so relieving that I could’ve cried. And I almost did–my eyes were welling with tears, ready to deploy them down my cheeks.

Instead, I felt my bladder finally being unleashed.

“Oh, would you look at this,” Lyndie cooed. “Someone’s finally going potty in their diaper.”

I opened my mouth to try and respond, but I couldn’t summon any words. All I could do was pee. It felt so good that, when I finally could make a sound, I just moaned softly.

“I bet that feels good, hmm?”


Mommy had been right, though. I could feel some moisture in places it shouldn’t have been. Like trickling down my leg, for example. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how this would’ve played out if I had wet myself with my pants still on. Where would’ve I been when it happened? Who would’ve been there to see it?

Lyndie noticed it as well. “Oopsies. Looks like someone did have a little leak. What were you even thinking when you put this diaper on?”

I didn’t see the point in answering. She knew I had been stressed and tired. And the truth–that I had been out late with Ava–was still a secret. And what an exciting secret to have. After weeks of giving so much of myself–and my dignity–to Mommy, it felt good to have something that was just mine and Ava’s. I wondered if she felt the same way.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you toddle around in full diapers,” Lyndie said, “this one just has to go. Why don’t you get up on the changing table and I’ll show you how a diaper is actually supposed to fit.”

Her words struck a humiliating chord with me. I may have had my excuses for why the diaper wasn’t properly fastened, but she was right–I’d need an adult to show me how to put a diaper on. A baby like me couldn’t be trusted to do it myself.

Soon, my legs were spread and lifted in the air as she stood between them to tend to the soggy padding between them.

“At least you’re not poopy this time,” she said, her lips curled into a playful smirk.

Come to think of it, my bowels could also use some evacuating. I wished I had thought of that sooner–I’d have probably emptied them into my bowels while I was pissing myself. Now, it felt disrespectful to mess in a brand new diaper.

Though, a naughty little thought came to mind. I imagined her pulling open my sodden diaper, exposing my cage and ass. As she reached for the wipes, I’d push. There, atop the changing table, and with no diaper covering me, I’d just start pooping. She could see it all–she’d watch as the filthy little present slowly emerged from my back door. Going wherever it needed to go. Nothing to divert or contain the foul odor.

I didn’t do it. But I wanted to. My extended stay in chastity seemed to be pumping the naughtiest thoughts into my mind. More and more, I found myself imagining scenarios that made me…

“I haven’t seen you blush like that in quite a while,” Lyndie said, wiping my skin clean with one of the damp wipes. “Certainly not during a routine diaper change. What are you thinking about?”


She laughed to herself as she went about her task. “If you say so.”

I was happy she didn’t press me for more information. As resolute as I was to keep that to myself, I also knew that I was prone to doing–or saying–stupid things when backed into a corner.

“Oh,” she said, as she pulled the sodden diaper away from me. “One more thing. Tomorrow? Brunch? Am I still joining you and your mother?”

I sighed as I gave myself one more opportunity to ponder the ethics of this plot. Was it wrong to lie to my mother? To use Ms. Heller’s money and Lyndie’s friendship to paint a picture that was a bit off from reality?

But Lyndie was more than a friend. She was a valuable weapon. She was adaptable–as seen with the way she embraced her new role as office diaper-changer. As seen with the way she took it upon herself to confront Thomas. If anyone was going to help keep my mother off my back, it was Lyndie.

“If you can still make it,” I said. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Excellent,” she said, as she unfolded a fresh diaper to slide under me. “Your mother is going to love me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

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  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 3: In the Weeds] [Chapter 50 and 51 posted on 8/7/2023]

This is really a great story, I appreciate your character development. That Ava is really a dirty/nasty girl, or as I like to say my dream girl!

I started reading this today and I had an epiphany about Lyndie and Anderson. My thought was that Anderson was Lyndie’s former boyfriend that had not moved out of her apartment and had gradually put the pieces together about what was going on at the company. I thought I had cracked the secret like in The Sixth Sense, alas it was something different. It turns out that like usual that I never get these things correct.


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Great update. Quite the risk from Lyndie. And we haven't seen the angry side of the executives as yet. Will Ms Beaufort allow Ava to leave? 

Mom's gonna be interesting too!

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On 8/7/2023 at 9:24 PM, zzzz50 said:

I started reading this today and I had an epiphany about Lyndie and Anderson. My thought was that Anderson was Lyndie’s former boyfriend that had not moved out of her apartment and had gradually put the pieces together about what was going on at the company. I thought I had cracked the secret like in The Sixth Sense, alas it was something different. It turns out that like usual that I never get these things correct.


Damn, it's such a good idea though! I wish I thought of this myself.

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10 hours ago, quietlyhumiliated said:

Damn, it's such a good idea though! I wish I thought of this myself.

I couldn’t remember if there was a reference to age or how long he had been with the company for it to make sense that they had hooked up.

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Lyndie was eating a salad from the salad bar. A spring mix base, I suspect–given the greens and purples of the leaves–with a colorful assortment of veggies on top of it.

I was eating a slice of pizza. I was grateful that the office cafe served pizza, but it wasn’t exactly ‘good.’ It reminded me of the cafeteria-pizza I’d get in elementary school–a slab of cardboard that seemed pizza-ish, though seemed to be missing the soul.

Ava had brought her own lunch. A sandwich on white bread, a bag of grapes, and a granola bar. I didn’t know if she packed her lunch or if her mother packed it for her–and I wasn’t about to ask. But, scrawled on the brown-paper bag, was ‘AVA’ in black marker. That seemed like something a mom would’ve done.

As Lyndie and Ava talked to each other, I found myself studying the lunches on the table, trying to determine if our lunches said anything about us or not. Was Lyndie’s lunch healthy and ‘adult?’ Was Ava’s lunch curated for her because she couldn’t take care of herself? Was my lunch simply nostalgic for an earlier part of my life?

Maybe it was just food.

“Earth to Clark,” Lyndie said, waving her hand in front of my face. Ava was giggling into her hand.

“O-oh… Uhm, sorry, did you say something to me?”

“Did you space out there, bud?” Lyndie asked.


“I asked who you thought might have told Thomas about the diaper stuff,” Ava said. “Because it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t Lyndie.”

“Well then, yeah. It has to be someone else, right?” I asked.

“The master detective, ladies and gentleman,” Lyndie said, rolling her eyes. Another burst of giggles from Ava.

“Lyndie seems pretty confident that it’s not Bradley,” Ava said. “I think I’d agree with that. He’d never want to stir the pot.”

“Plus,” Lyndie added, “I asked him.”

“Right. I forgot that you and he were tight now,” I said.

“Really?” asked Ava. “Like…how tight?”

“We’re friends,” Lyndie said.

“Bradley’s her little pet project,” I said. “She’s going to steal him away from Ms. Tamberlin.”

“I never said that!”

“Okay, okay,” Ava said. “We’ll, uh, come back to that later. So who does that leave? Just…Megan, right?”

Lyndie and I both nodded, and the table fell silent after. Megan was still a big mystery. She kept to herself. Mommy had once mentioned that she thought Megan wore a diaper from time to time, though Lyndie had never mentioned Megan stepping foot in the nursery before.

“I’ve never spoken to her,” Lyndie said.

“Neither have I,” I said.

“We’re not close,” Ava said. “But we’re friendly. Maybe I could…talk to her?”

It could be sensed in Ava’s tone, quite clearly, that she didn’t actually want to confront Megan. I was tempted to let Lyndie handle this for us, but between whatever she was doing with Thomas and her going to brunch with me and my mother the next day, it felt unfair to expect her to do this too.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ava.

“I mean, she’s not scary, right? She’s not a witch or a monster. She’s just…a girl. She’s one of us.”

“Are you saying that you’re a girl too?” Lyndie asked, smirking.

“N-no…I’m saying that she’s an assistant. Like us. We’re all just…weird sex objects for people in positions of power. If she’s been telling Thomas things, then I’d want to know why. And if she didn’t…well, I think it’d be good if she was on our side.”

I ate my bland pizza. Lyndie complained about the lack of a decent vinaigrette at the salad bar. And we all had a good laugh when Ava pulled an actual juice box out of her lunch bag. Then, it was back to the ‘grind.’ Whatever that was–work didn’t really feel like ‘work’ these days. It was just the place I went to get my diapers changed and laughed at.

I had debated putting off my conversation with Megan until later–maybe even the next week. But I didn’t want anything else looming overhead while I went to Mommy’s house that night. Or during brunch the next day.

Mr. Yang’s office was near Mommy’s, but I was relatively sure that Megan actually worked out of the finance department on the floor below ours. Stepping off the elevator, I found a span of cubicles and desks that looked eerily similar to the one I was used to, but different enough that I had no sense of direction.

So I just wandered for a few minutes, hoping I’d find someone or something familiar. Instead, as I rounded a corner, I almost ran into Megan herself–we were just an inch away from knocking each other down on our asses.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hello,” she replied. She smiled, though it didn’t seem like the most sincere smile. It felt polite, at best.

“I was actually hoping to run into you. Well, not like actually running into you, but…”

“What’s up?” she asked, sparing me the awkwardness of my introduction.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” I asked.

She nodded. “Down this hall behind me. Third door on the right. I have to go drop off some files, but I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

So far, so good. I followed her directions, continuing down the hallway as I counted three doors on the right. And then I came to the closed door to an office. Whose office was this? I looked at the placard on the wall next to the door.

Megan Markley, Executive Assistant to the CFO

My heart sank a little. She had her own office? A fancy name placard? I was the assistant to the CEO and I didn’t have an office of my own. Was this something I had to know to ask for?

I turned the handle and walked into Megan’s office. It wasn’t nearly as big as the executive offices I was used to, but it was big enough. And private. Tastefully decorated, and the air smelled faintly of flowers. Perhaps the most surprising part of Megan’s office, other than her having one in the first place, was how adult it looked. Maybe we had been wrong to assume that Megan was one of us.

And, perfect timing, I felt myself pee a little–just an unconscious dribble that babbled from my caged manhood. I felt my cheeks flare–what a perfect summation of the difference between the two of us. She had an office. I was wetting diapers.

“Please, have a seat,” Megan said, entering the office herself now and closing the door behind her.

“This is a nice space,” I said.

“Thank you very much,” she replied, flashing that polite smile again as she took her seat on the other side of her desk from me. Her large leather chair looked leagues better than the rather standard-issue office chair I was using at my cubicle. Hell, it looked like it could give Mommy’s office chair a run for its money.

“May I ask how you were able to even get a room like this?”

“Is that what you came to talk to me about?” she asked.


“I just asked,” she said. “I tend to get whatever I want.”

Another scan of Megan’s office revealed more details I hadn’t caught the first time around. There was paperwork and file folders. Binders. Thick wads of documents stapled and bound together. It was work. She wasn’t spending her days waddling around and peeing her pants. She was doing actual work here. Was this, too, what she wanted?

“You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked.

“Yeah, actually.” But suddenly, the words felt harder to say than I thought they would. Here she was, obviously busy and important–and I was coming to her to talk about gossip involving diapers. It felt so trivial and embarrassing. Still, I couldn’t bail now. As much as it made me cringe, I had to say what I came here to say. “Do you know who Thomas Pritchard is?”

“I may have heard the name before. Who is he, exactly?”

I shrugged. “He’s a… Actually, I’m not entirely sure what he does here. But he’s another employee. Some low-level guy, I guess.”

“And what about him?”

I needed to be blunt–I needed to just spit it all out and see if she cared or not. “He knows about the assistants. Someone has been talking to him about the, uhm, diapers and all that.” My cheeks reddened again as I said the d-word in front of her. “He’s threatening to expose everything.”

“Hm,” Megan said, her eyes narrowing. “Did you come here because you thought that I had told him about those things?”

“M-maybe. No offense or anything. If you had, I just thought I could learn why you might have done that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone about diapers,” Megan said.

“Do you know anything about who would?”

She took a deep breath and sighed. I could’ve sworn that she was about to say something, perhaps even answer my question. Instead, she just shrugged.

She finally leaned back a little in her office chair and asked me a question of her own: “Do you like your diapers?”

It was my turn to take a deep breath. “I do, yeah,” I cautiously replied.

“And the chastity?”

I had almost forgotten that she was there in the conference room when Mommy had first presented the cage to me. Megan had been there to watch as I was passed down the line for a series of spankings.

“It’s a mixed bag,” I said, being more honest than I thought I’d be.

“We can be frank with each other, right?” she asked.

I could think of no reason why we couldn’t be. “Of course.”

“I’m rather fond of the chastity myself.”

“Oh, so you…” I stopped myself as I felt my cheeks redden again. I wasn’t sure what questions would or wouldn’t be appropriate to ask.

“I’ve still got one of those,” she said, possibly reading my mind. “Mr. Yang used to talk about bottom surgery, but…I think he’s rather fond of chicks with dicks. So it stays locked up until he needs it. Which is…often enough. But diapers. I miss those.”

“You don’t wear them anymore?”

She shook her head. “It used to be part of the, er, ‘aesthetic.’ Are you familiar with sissies?”

Early on, in my own diapered adventures, I had seen some references to sissies in my research about adult babies and ageplay kink. I had a general idea of what it was about. So I nodded, hoping I hadn’t made the wrong assumptions.

“He had fun with that for a while, but I don’t think we were on the same page about diapers.”

“How so?”

“Well, he didn’t want to change them. And I wanted to…use them.”

“A shame Lyndie wasn’t here then,” I said. “And the nursery.”

Megan shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. He outgrew sissies and diapers. Cutesy things in general. He wants someone…sexy. Someone with some of these.” She pointed to her chest where a pair of ample bosoms seemed perfectly contoured by her tight shirt.

“And I take it that you’re, uh, happy with how things worked out?”

“If you’re asking if I’m happy to be Megan, then I can assure you that I am.”

“Good,” I said. “I take it that you and Mr. Yang must get along pretty well, then?”

She laughed–a loud and candid “Ha!” that I wasn’t sure how to react to. “I’m grateful for many things that Mr. Yang has done for me. But I do not like Darren Yang.”


“Do you get along with Gabrielle?”

It always caught me off guard to hear Ms. Heller’s first name used casually. “I do, yeah. She’s been pretty good to me.”

“How is she good to you?”

The simplicity and bluntness of her question tripped me up again. I supposed I could’ve read the question as one of disbelief–like she didn’t think that Ms. Heller actually was being good to me. But I had answers for that question.

“She took me with her to Seattle last weekend,” I said. “We had a good time. And, uhm, she’s paying for a rather expensive brunch for me tomorrow morning.”

“Is that it?” Megan asked. “A business trip and a meal?”

I sighed. Fine, I’d dig a little deeper. I wanted to convince Megan that Ms. Heller really was treating me well.

“She changes my diapers. Buys me things. She, you know, pleasures me.”

“Buys you things like…more diapers?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you trying to make a point? I’m not exactly sure where we’re going with this.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just a little too cynical for my own good. I remain convinced that none of our executive ‘masters’ are really interested in doing what’s best for us. We aren’t people. We’re ‘just’ assistants. Worse–we’re just toys. But…if you feel that Gabrielle actually cares about you…well, what do I know?”

“She does,” I said. I felt confident about my answer, though she had embedded the slightest sliver of doubt in the back of my mind.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Honestly.”

I was looking around her office again–still in disbelief that all of this was hers. I was wondering if I, too, could be getting more from this arrangement.

“You said you just…asked? For this office?”

“I ask for a lot of things,” she said. “And I get what I want.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he’s paid for my appearance. And what do you think? Am I cute?”

“Yes,” I said, cheeks warming again. “Quite.”

“I have an apartment downtown,” she continued. “Guess who foots the bill for that? Likewise, take a guess at who is helping me get my master’s degree?”

“Just because you asked?”

“Because I asked,” she said. “And because I allow him to fuck me. Or, you know, he allows me to fuck him when it strikes his fancy. And, whatever. It’s just sex. One day I won’t need him anymore. I’ll have a ton of money saved because I don’t pay rent. I’ll have a master’s degree. A cute body. And I’ll go and do whatever I want.”

I had just been handed a lot to process and think about. I had a ton of questions–but what else was new?

“You said you missed diapers?” I asked.

She nodded. “I have some. But I don’t wear them much. Diapers are for babies. Babies need to be cared for. And…I guess I just don’t want to have to care for myself.”

“You know…you can talk to us. Like, myself and Ava. And Lyndie–she’s got that nursery now, you know? And if Mr. Yang didn’t want to change your diaper, I’m sure she would be up for it.”

She smiled–it felt like the first time I was seeing an authentic smile on her face. “Something changed around here recently. And not just your latest diaper.”

I felt my cheeks warming, though I tried to play it off like it didn’t faze me. “How so?”

“I’ve been here for a while. I’ve seen a few others like you and I come and go. Assistants, or whatever our leadership team likes to call us. I never really got to know anybody. We’d see each other at work functions or whatever and we’d acknowledge each other. But we didn’t really…talk. We weren’t friends.”

“Oh.” And there I was, wetting my diaper just a little bit more. I could feel the padding swell between my legs as I tried my hardest not to look distracted. Nope, not pissing myself while we talk. Nothing to see here.

“But something changed around the time you got mixed up in all this ‘assistant’ stuff,” she said. “Suddenly, I see you palling around with Lyndie and Ava. I saw the three of you eating lunch together again today, in fact. I saw Bradley and Lyndie walking down the hall together the other day too. Did you know Ms. Heller’s former assistant? Hillary?”

“I know of her.”

“We worked together for three years. We never had lunch together. We never even shared a text message. But then you show up, and suddenly there’s this little diapered friendship club going on.”

“I…I’m sorry if it feels like you're not welcome. Nobody has ever wanted to exclude you, I don’t think.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s not that. I’ve excluded myself–I can’t hold that against anyone else. I only bring this up to say that I think it’s been a good change. The babies and the sissies and the…whatever it is that Bradley is–we should be banding together.”

“You should come have lunch with us,” I said. “Hang out with us after work.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” she said, nodding. “Thank you, Clark.”

“Of course.”

I may not have gotten what I wanted by visiting Megan, but I was still pretty glad that I had stopped by.

“I should probably get going,” I said, my eyes drifting to the stacks of folders and documents on her desk. “I don’t want to keep you from doing work.”

“You don’t have much to do?” she asked.

I laughed. “Not really. My busiest days are the ones where she asks me to make a dirty diaper.”

She chucked a little. “And is that your assignment for today?”

“Not today...”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I would’ve put all my own work aside to help you with that.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that–but I knew that I liked it. “If I ever need a hand, I’ll let you know.”

She sighed again–the same sigh I heard earlier when I thought she was going to tell me something more about Thomas Pritchard.

“I wasn’t going to say anything else,” she said. “But you’re more…likable than I thought you’d be.”

“You didn’t think I’d be likable?”

She shrugged, laughing a little to herself. “I didn’t think you’d be awful. I just wasn’t sure that I’d like you. Alas, you seem likable enough.”

“Gee, thanks. But does this mean you have something else to tell me?”

“Here’s the thing, Clark: This is valuable information. Information that could start upending the way things work in the company. In my life. I like you enough to tell you what I know. But I don’t think I could give it to you for free. Not when the lifestyle I’ve grown accustomed to is on the line.”

“I’d ask what the cost is,” I said. “But I’m not even sure what I’m buying.”

“That boy you mentioned earlier? Thomas Pritchard? What if I had a little bit more information about that whole situation?”

“I thought you said that…”

“I said that I didn’t tell him about the diapers. And that’s true.”

“Okay, fine,” I said. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s nothing bad,” she said. “And it might even be fun!”

Fun? I was already dreading this. Clark, the Office Punching-Bag. How badly did I want the answers to my questions? How did I know that I could even trust Megan? For all I knew, she’d ask something ridiculous of me, I’d do it, and then she’d reveal that she knew nothing all along and just wanted to fuck with me.

But also: Clark, the Big Baby Whose Thirst for Humiliation Could Never Be Quenched. A bit of an unruly name, but it didn’t make it any less true.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Do you know what I miss, Clark? I miss being a little sissy baby. The little sissy I was when I first started working for Mr. Yang. Wearing diapers and being dressed up in cute clothes. I miss the way he’d make me practice my curtsies.”

I felt my heart racing. I still had no idea where she was going with this, but I could take a few guesses.

“I don’t think I could pull off that look now,” she continued. “Look at me. With these tits? This face? This hair? Being a sissy was more fun when I didn’t quite look the part. When I looked like a little boy dressing up as a little girl.”

“I-I’m sorry, Megan, but…what does this have to do with me?”

“Clark, has anyone told you before that you’d make an adorable little girl?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Just once! Clark, please. Let me dress you up–just once. Please? I won’t tell a soul. And you’d look so cute. And then, when we’re all done, I’ll tell you everything.”

God. If anyone ever found out. Ms. Heller. Ava. Fuck…if Lyndie ever found out about this? I’d never hear the end of it.

But it was just once. And only Megan would know about it. And, in the end, it’d be for information that would help everyone else.

And…if I was being completely honest, I was a little curious.

“Just once?” I asked. “And you swear that nobody would ever know about it?”

“Not a soul,” she said.


“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m in. When did you want to do this? And…I’m assuming we wouldn’t do it here.”

“Are you free this weekend?” she asked.

“Well…I’m pretty busy on Saturday, but–”

“Perfect, Sunday works for me too. Here’s my number,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across her desk. “Text me later and let me know when you can drop by on Sunday.”

“Drop by…to your place?”

“Do you want me to come to your place?” she asked.

I did not want Evan to know about this either. “No, your place will be just fine.”

“Excellent. Text me, Clark.”

“I will.”

“And one more thing?”


“Try to think of a cute girl name,” said Megan. “I’d like to know what to call my sissy friend.”


Note from QH: This chapter sets up a pretty brief sissy kink subplot in upcoming chapters. However, in the time that’s elapsed since I’ve written this, I’ve had some second thoughts about its inclusion. That is to say–if I was to do it again, I probably wouldn’t include the sissy kink into this story at all. Still, I’m presenting the chapters as they were originally written–mostly because this chapter has already been shared, as is, with other readers. All this to say: If you have any thoughts or concerns about how this topic is addressed in the story, I encourage you to share them with me.

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  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 3: In the Weeds] [Chapter 52 posted on 8/15/2023]
28 minutes ago, quietlyhumiliated said:

If you have any thoughts or concerns about how this topic is addressed in the story, I encourage you to share them with me.

Nothing wrong with the idea, but to me it reads like a square peg being driven into a round hole.  Has anybody in the story suggested that Clark would make a cute girl?  And how does he go from being suspicious of her to doing something that would allow her to blackmail him (I'm assuming that she will be taking lots of pictures)?  It's the absence of any build up to this moment earlier in the story that makes this awkward for me.

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Back when Clark was spanked by all the bosses he was wearing Ava's pink girl diapers.  But that is about all though. I don't feel it is a square peg but seems shoehorned in with all the other stuff going on in Clarks life.  Can't wait for a trip to Mommy's house!


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Until I got to your note, my reaction to this was: huh?  When a story takes a detour like this, my first thought is that the author wants to relieve tension.  But that wouldn't be needed here because there are so many sub-plots already in motion (Mommy's house / dining with Mom and Lyndie / playing super sleuth).  Another possibility is setting out on a new narrative arc to keep the story fresh.  But this requires hints in the existing narrative that I'm not seeing, and doing something like this without first taking it to his mommy/boss seems out of character because it is well beyond a bit of flirting with Ava.  There are two other possibilities, the first being that this is simply a false trail of the type one often encounters in mystery novels.  This is clearly possible.  But the fourth possibility is that this has something to do with Yang, who looks to be a possible Judas in the boardroom.  Is the CFO looking to move up to CEO?  So, what I'll be looking for next is whether he brings this up to his boss cum mommy domme.  

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Weekends never seemed long enough. On most Fridays, I’d see the approaching weekend as this enormous sprawl of countless opportunities. All the movies I could be watching. The beer I could be drinking. The errands I could finally get around to tackling. Hiking. Reading. Calling old friends.

And then, suddenly, it’d be Sunday night and the weekend would have felt like it was just a blip. I had never accomplished all the things I wanted. I rarely even scratched the surface. Then, it was just another week of work. Or, whatever it was I did for 40 hours during the week anymore.

It had gotten to the point that Friday afternoons had begun to lose their luster for me. It was hard to get excited about the weekend when I knew that I’d close my eyes and suddenly it would be Monday again.

For once, I found myself wishing for the weekend to be just an instantaneous blip. I wanted this weekend to be over before it started. I wanted to be walking through the lobby of the office, ready to start a new week of work.

Because as it stood? The next 48 hours–60-ish if we’re counting Friday night–were poised to be the most intense hours of my life. Dinner with Mommy. Brunch with my mother. And then whatever-the-hell Sunday with Megan was going to be.

I simply could not fathom what Monday would be like. It felt like a different century. Would we cars be able to fly on Monday? Would there be offices on the moon?

I felt like crying. I felt like literally breaking down, collapsing, and crying loudly while flailing my legs and arms like a toddler. An honest-to-god temper tantrum. I needed that so badly.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Lyndie asked as she checked my diaper in the nursery. “That’s one helluva pout.”

“Just stressed,” I said.

“Are you still worrying about your mother? Clark, buddy, it’s just brunch. One brunch. Do you know how many terrible meals I’ve had with my parents over the years? She can’t possibly be that bad.”

“She’s…not,” I said. It was difficult to say, but only because Lyndie was right. My mother wasn’t Satan. She had never been evil. She was just a lot. And the longer it had been since I saw her last, the fuzzier the line had gotten between who my Mom was and who I thought she’d be.

“Then what are you worried about?”

I started thinking aloud: “I mean, she’s not always the easiest person to talk to. She knows how to push all my buttons better than anyone else. I’d like to think I can deal with that on most days. But…Lyndie, look at me. I’m wearing a diaper and getting it checked. I call my boss ‘Mommy.’ I’m a mess. And I’m terrified that she’s going to look at me and see that.”

“As long as she doesn’t sniff your bottom, I think you’ll be good,” she said. “How likely is that to happen?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” I grumbled.

“Alright, so catch me up,” Lyndie said. “If I’m going to be your date tomorrow, I feel like I need to know a thing or two about our situation, you know? Make sure we’re on the same page?”

“Yeah, alright. That makes sense.”

“Where, even, are we meeting?” she asked.

“Ferdinand’s,” I answered. “10 AM.”

“I don’t know where that is,” she said, shaking her head. “I assume it’s nice?”

I shrugged. “Mommy seems to think so.”

“Good enough for me. Let’s talk about us. The, uh, figurative ‘us.’ Where did we meet?”

“Work,” I said, nodding. “It’s the truth, right?”

“Works for me. And how long have we been dating?”

“It can’t be too long, or else she’ll get upset that she didn’t know about you sooner,” I said.

“Even though you two haven’t talked much in the last few months?”

“Right. It won’t matter. But it can’t be too recently either, or else she’ll think we’re moving too fast.”

“That’s not a bad thing, right?” Lyndie asked. “Maybe she’d see that as a sign that we’re just that sure of our relationship.”

I laughed. “No, I don’t think so. She’d think I was using bad judgment. She’d reject you immediately.”

“So how long do you think we’ve been together? Three months? A month?”

“Two,” I said.

“Fine. And how did we meet?”

Ugh,” I scoffed. “This is ridiculous. What am I even doing? Why am I so fucking devoted to try and impress my mother? Can’t I just be content with…living my life the way that I want to live my life? If she doesn’t like it, it’s not really my problem, is it?”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Lyndie said. “But you’re the one who thought all of this was necessary.”

“I should just show up in a diaper,” I said.

“Well, I’d like that. But I’m not sure that’s the play here.”

“I’ve got other things to think about,” I said. “Things that I’d much rather be thinking about instead of my mother. I mean, I should be excited about tonight, right? Mommy’s house? Like, any other week, I’d be stressing this much about just that. And it still hasn’t actually hit me that it’s happening in, like, a few hours. And then Sunday…”

I quickly stopped myself. I had already said far too much.

“Sunday?” Lyndie asked. “What’s Sunday?”

“Oh, uh, nothing really...”

“Come on, Clarky. You can’t keep secrets from the gal who wipes your poopy bottom.”

“I’m not keeping secrets. And my bottom isn’t…”

“Not right now it isn’t,” she said. “But you get the point.”

“I just made plans, that’s all.”

“Ooh, post-mother plans?” cooed Lyndie. “And not with your new girlfriend. Me? Let me take a guess. Ava?”

I was tempted to just agree with that. It’d be a lie, but it’d be easier to say than having to explain the truth. But I also knew that to be a terrible idea–given that Lyndie and Ava were pretty close.

“Megan, actually,” I said.

“Is that so?” Lyndie said, eyebrows raising. “Megan?”

“I know, I know, it’s kind of weird…”

“How did that happen? Are you two, like, BFFs now?”

Was that a hint of jealousy I heard in her tone? “I think she was feeling a little left out, honestly. Like the rest of us…she just wanted a friend.”

It was sort of true. Obviously I was leaving out the part about subjecting myself to Megan’s desire to dress me up like a girl for an afternoon.

Lyndie, to my surprise, just shrugged. “If she’s cool, we should all hang out. I’d like to meet her too.”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m sure she’d be grateful for the new friends too.”

“Look at you, Clarky. The social baby-butterfly who brings everyone together. I never thought you had it in you.”

Neither did I. Megan had made a somewhat-similar comment earlier in her office–suggesting that the ‘assistant culture’ had started to change when I had started working here. I certainly didn’t believe that it was my social prowess that had brought everyone together. If anything, it was the united interest in humiliating me that did it.

“So what are you and Mommy doing tonight?” she asked. That seemed to be the end of the conversation about Megan, thankfully.

“I’m not that sure. She mentioned wine and…” She had also mentioned shoving objects up my bottom, but I didn’t want to mention that to Lyndie either. “...dinner. Wine and dinner.”

“A romantic dinner with Mommy! Do you think she’ll unlock you?”

“I hope so,” I said.

Though, that said, if she didn’t unlock me but still found a way to get me off, I probably wouldn’t complain. Hell, I hoped that she served the key to my chastity to me for dinner. Just a key on a plate, and I’d have to eat it.

The thought of that made my shrunken cock strain within its confines.

“Mmm,” I moaned aloud, a bit too lost in my fantasy.

“What was that?” Lyndie asked.

“N-nothing. Just…”

I was extremely grateful for the sudden knock on the nursery door. Our eyes immediately darted to the doorway, wondering who could be.

“Who is it?” Lyndie asked. She looked a little concerned. Were I to guess, most everyone who would normally come to the nursery didn’t knock on the door.

“Tom,” a voice said.

“Tom?” I asked Lyndie in a quieter tone. “Who the hell is that?”

“Pritchard,” she said to me in a quieter tone. To the door: “Yeah, come on in.”

And then Thomas Pritchard was in the room with us. I felt like I saw him often, though we hadn’t talked in a while. Maybe not since the time he accosted me for getting a promotion when he didn’t.

I cautiously extended an olive branch. “Hey, Thomas.”


I couldn’t help but wonder how long he had known my name. Had he known my name back when we only called him ‘Anderson?’ Or had my name come up in other conversations–the ones about the strange happenings in our office that he was now threatening to expose.

“Tommy,” Lyndie cooed, a wide smile on her face. If she was acting, it was a good performance–she seemed genuinely happy to see him again. “What brings you back to the nursery?”

“Is this a bad time?” he asked, glancing in my direction.

His tone–his body language–was curious to me. It was like he was trying very hard to sound…mature? Important? I never remembered him sounding like this before–though, admittedly, I hadn’t had that many conversations with him. But this puffed-out-chest slice of machismo didn’t seem to be working. It reeked of overcompensation.

“Are you not comfortable having a conversation in front of Mr. Ashburn?” Lyndie said. I recognized the snark in her voice, but I wasn’t sure that Thomas did. And I couldn’t even remember the last time someone called me ‘Mr. Ashburn.’ I almost didn’t recognize my own name.

“Well I was hoping it’d be just you and me,” Thomas said to her.

“I guess I should be headed back to my desk anyway,” I said. It wasn’t true, of course, but it gave me an out. No further conversation needed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Lyndie said to me. Translation: “I’ll fill you in on whatever Thomas and I talk about.”

Though cut short, my conversation with Lyndie still felt fruitful. It felt good to have had that little outburst about not needing to impress my mother. I doubted I could make that my mantra, but it was something to think about. Something that’d behoove me to repeat during brunch.

Getting that off my chest freed up some mental real estate. Temporarily, perhaps, but I wasn’t complaining. Now? I felt I could focus on my dinner with Mommy tonight.

First things first, let’s take care of this dry diaper problem.

There was a time, not that long ago, where I was mortified to just walk around the building with my thick diaper on under my pants. I was terrified of the thought of someone seeing my extra-thick bottom, or hearing the crinkling, or even catching a whiff of baby powder. Now? I was walking down the hallway while wetting myself.

No matter how many diapers I wet, there would still be ones that hit me just right. This was one of those. Feeling the diaper swell and grow dense between my legs as I walked filled me with pleasure. That insatiable kind of pleasure, where I crave more and more–knowing damn well that I’ll probably never have enough. I wanted to walk around for another hour, just to feel the soggy padding squish and rub against whatever remained of my cock.

This was exactly what I needed for tonight’s visit with Mommy. I needed to work myself up. Get so lost in my pathetic headspace that by the time I was going to her house, I was a babbling toddler–practically begging her to forgo actually serving food and just giving my ass a good hard fuck.

My cock ached in its prison. But I realized something–I liked that. That was what getting turned on felt like now.

When I reached my desk, I just kept walking right past it. My body seemed to know where it was going, even if the rest of me felt out of the loop.

A restroom, I thought. But not one of the ones on this floor. I’d need to go somewhere else. Just in case. I jumped onto the elevator, and picked a random floor. How about…4.


I both did and did not know what I was doing. I was horny and entering a dangerous headspace to be in while at work. I’d be doing something naughty, assuming I found a tiny bit of privacy. The mystery of it only further excited me.

As the elevator descended, I imagined who would be on the other side of the door when it opened again. Maybe it’d be some cute young woman, standing there with a pile of documents in her hand. Maybe her laptop. The elevator door would open and her eyes would grow wide as her mouth dropped open. There I would be…drooling as I sucked my thumb, my other hand thrust into my own pants that exposed my soggy diaper.

I didn’t put my thumb in my mouth. I didn’t open my pants. There was nobody on the other side of the door. It was such a shame. Maybe next time.

I wasn’t familiar with this floor, but it didn’t stop me from meandering around it. New faces. New curious looks from strangers. Could they hear my diaper? Could they smell the piss that was soaked into it? Or…were they just curious about who this guy was that didn’t normally didn’t work on the floor?

I spotted a restroom off in the corner of the floor. I hustled to it as fast as I could, my wet diaper swishing loudly against the inside of my pants. Let them hear it, I thought as I waddled past a cluster of desks. Don’t bother hiding who you are.

To my dismay, I wasn’t alone in the restroom. Of the four stalls, one was already occupied. I chose the stall all the way in the corner. It was a handicap stall–which I usually tried to avoid back when I used toilets–but I wanted the space.

Besides, is someone going to tell a guy in a diaper that he doesn’t belong in a handicap stall.

And then: the stand-off. I had forgotten about this little ritual from my days of using the potty. Two men in stalls at the same time. Neither wants to do whatever loud or smelly thing they have to do and so they wait for the other to leave. This didn’t always happen, of course. There were men who could barge into a public restroom, plant their asses on a toilet, and unleash an unholy hell upon the porcelain seat. All without an ounce of consideration for who else was in the room.

My neighbor did not seem to be one of those men. I could see their feet under the stall walls. Black leather dress shoes. Black slacks pulled down above them. No movement. No sounds.

I wasn’t there to use the toilet. But what I was there to do–and I was still figuring it out–would probably be just as loud. My pants were pulled down around my ankles and I sat there on the toilet in my wet diaper. God, I just wanted to feel the bloated thing with both hands.

I considered the type of man who would bust into a restroom and make no effort to hide or conceal their bathroom needs from anyone else. What if I had scurried into a restroom and, just as aggressively as my supposed ‘alpha,’ took a sizable and obvious shit–except it was in a diaper. Was that an alpha move? Or was that transcendently pathetic?

In other words: Please, stranger. Do whatever you have to do and get out of here. The longer I sit here, the deeper I fall into my humiliation-craving headspace.

Success. I heard toilet paper being pulled from the roll. The toilet flushed. Pants up. Stall door was opened. Washing hands. Drying. And…the door opened and closed.

I bend forward, hanging my head upside down so I can do one more scan of the bathroom. All clear–I see no other feet.

“Ooohhhhhh,” I moaned, both of my hands grasping the flooded diaper. I pushed it against my cage, squeezing out warm urine that sought new padding to be absorbed by.

That throbbing. That gloriously painful throbbing. I needed more.

My hand was suddenly in my diaper. Did I put that there? I was grasping and pawing at my cage–simultaneously wishing that it could be opened and that it would remain locked shut forever. This was the new pleasure.

Another floor check. Nope, no feet.

I bit my lip as I considered my next move. An idea was slowly coming to mind–something else I could be doing with my fingers. I slowly let my hand slip deeper into the diaper, my fingers waltzing past the pathetic prisoner in his cell.

I had little experience in stimulating myself through my backdoor. And, here in the office restroom with a diaper on, I wasn’t sure I was equipped to take on that task. But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. What followed was a series of contorted movements and groans as I tried to find the angle that would allow me to get even a fingertip into my ass while I remained in my diaper.

Maybe I should start carrying around some lube with me.

I think I found it. The lack of lubrication made it difficult to do. But my finger felt the tight grasp of my bottom. My bottom certainly felt the presence of a new friend.

I wasn’t quite deep enough–nor did I think I could be–to elicit the deep waves of pleasure Mommy had managed with her toys. But the simple placement of my finger at the threshold was enough to send tingles throughout my body.

Cut off from my cock, I had become ravenous for whatever pleasure I could get. And between the week that had passed since my last climax and the sinfulness of fingering myself in the restroom–diapered–I was a powderkeg primed to explode at any moment.

“Unh,” I moaned. “Fuck.”

And then it was happening. I collapsed against the wall of the stall as I felt myself spurting through my cage and into my diaper.

I was still muttering to myself as it happened: “Filthy…fucking…baby.”

But just as my dirty deed was complete, I heard the door opening. Footsteps. They walked past the urinals and to the stalls. Past the first. Second. They kept walking until they were at my stall. My heart stopped–who was this? Did they know what I had done? Were they here to call me out? Arrest me?

A hand reached out and tested the stall door, finding it locked. They pivoted and went to another stall. And no sooner than the door closed and their pants were down, they went about their business–loudly, and seemingly with no regard for others. Ah yes, the alpha-shitter.

I took a minute to compose myself, taking a few breaths. Not too many breaths, though, the restroom air was quickly becoming less-than-hospitable. I carefully adjusted my diaper and pulled my pants back up–being cautious not to handle too much with the hand that had just been stuffed down my diaper. My diaper was crinkling rather loudly as I fumbled about, but I tried not to think about it too much. I just had to get out of here. The toilet flushed behind me as I readied myself to leave the stall. A detail I would’ve likely overlooked if it didn’t happen automatically. Nothing to see here, folks. Just a normal restroom-user like you.

I washed my hands thoroughly before leaving. Alpha-shitter already seemed to be working on the second round. Godspeed.

Part of me worried that I had fucked myself over with that little stunt. What if I had cheated myself out of that feeling of mindless passion later, in Mommy’s company?

No, I didn’t think that would be a problem. If anything, I was feeling more desperate. I craved more than a tip of a finger poking at my bottom. I needed to be filled. Fucked. Used.

I waddled my way back towards my desk, my mind racing with increasingly filthy fantasies.


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  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 3: In the Weeds] [Chapter 53 posted on 8/21/2023]
  • quietlyhumiliated changed the title to Doing Business [Season 4] [Part 77 & 78 posted on 4/12/2024]

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