Jack’s Corporate Fall

[JackNeedsChanging]

Jack adjusted his collar and smoothed out the front of his dress shirt for the third time that morning. The tie still felt oversized—Amazon-manufactured, like everything else in the building—but it wasn’t worth complaining. You learned early, as a Little, to pick your battles carefully in a world that wasn’t built for you.

 

The doors of Halcyon & Crane Sales Solutions whooshed open with a soft puff of climate-controlled air. Gleaming floors. Holographic welcome signage. High heels tapping like judgment down glass corridors. Jack’s loafers squeaked faintly, barely audible against the thunder of Amazon shoes overhead.

 

It was a firm run almost entirely by Amazons. And the fact that a 20-year-old native-born Little like him had landed a job here was… rare. Maybe even miraculous.  He was proud of it—terrified, too.

 

As he passed the reception area, Ms. Bellamy, the Amazon secretary, gave him a saccharine smile.  “Good morning, little Jack. Tummy feeling okay today?”

 

Jack stiffened slightly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

 

She always asked that. In the same tone someone might use to check if a preschooler had remembered to use the potty.  He kept walking. Kept his eyes forward.  He had to prove himself. Every day. Every hour.  The sales floor was buzzing with chatter, tablets, and presentation files. Amazon executives towered over their desks, making confident calls and reviewing data on floor-to-ceiling touchscreens. Jack’s workstation was, predictably, much smaller—tucked into a nook near the supply cabinet, custom-made for a Little.  But his numbers were good. Better than good, in fact.  That’s what brought the attention.

 

Ms. Halden.

Senior Accounts Director. Eight foot six, maybe more. Graceful but imposing, with dark auburn hair tied into a firm bun and eyes that could silence a room with a glance. She didn’t raise her voice—she didn’t need to.  She was the type of Amazon who could make even other Amazons straighten up.  She also had a reputation.  Her office had a plastic potty in the corner.

 

Some said it was there as a joke. Some said she used it for “noncompliant Littles.” Others claimed she’d already “adopted” two staffers from other departments—both of whom had vanished into domestic regression with full Amazon legal custody.  Jack told himself it was just office gossip.  But that still didn’t stop his heart from jumping when her voice echoed behind him.  “Jack. My office. Now.”

 

 

He turned, swallowing. “Yes, Ms. Halden.”

 

He climbed up onto her chair-sized step-stool just outside the doorway and entered, quietly. Her office smelled of lavender and leather. It was pristine. Minimalist. Polished chrome and black furniture, the firm’s awards gleaming in a locked glass case.  And in the far corner, like a stain in his peripheral vision: the plastic potty chair. Bright pink. Unlabeled. But unmistakable.  Jack tried not to look at it.

 

 

Ms. Halden gestured to a booster seat placed in front of her desk. “Up.”

 

He hesitated. “Uh… may I sit in the normal—?”

 

Her eyes didn’t even flicker. Just one perfectly arched brow.  He climbed up into the booster.  “Good boy.”

 

Jack’s face flushed, but he didn’t argue.  She tapped her desk. A glowing spreadsheet appeared between them.

 

“Your sales reports are excellent,” she said. “Clients love you. You listen. You respond quickly. You never push. You ask questions.”

 

Jack blinked, unsure where this was going.

 

“I’d like to groom you for handling tier-2 accounts,” she said smoothly. “But that means more oversight. More structure. More… maturity.”

 

Jack sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am. I’m ready for more responsibility.”

 

“Oh, no no,” she smiled. “Not that kind of maturity.”

 

He froze.  She tapped again. A smaller window popped open: a photo. A grainy shot of Jack in the break room two days ago, spilling coffee as his legs were dangling from the Littles’ bench. Another tap: a second photo. Jack, exiting the Little’s bathroom. Clearly mid-waddle. His belt loose. A faint bulge from beneath his slacks.  He inhaled sharply.

 

She folded her hands. “I’ve been watching you, Jack. You’re very determined to be a successful employee here. That’s good. But your goal is not… sustainable.”

 

He opened his mouth. Closed it.  Ms. Halden stood.  She crossed the room slowly, her heels soft against the padded carpet. Towering. Measured.

 

“I can offer you structure,” she declared. “Routine. Security. You’d never need to worry about mistakes. Or grown-up things. I can make sure of that.”

 

She reached into a drawer and placed a folded diaper on the desk. Thick. White. Printed with soft pastel stars.  Jack stared at it, blood pounding in his ears.

 

“I—I’m not a baby,” he said quietly. “I’m free. I have my ID, my Littles’ Work Certification—”

 

Ms. Halden smiled.  “I know. That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t taken you yet.”

 

She leaned down, whispering just beside his ear.  “But you’re already halfway mine, Jack. You just don’t know it yet.”

[codsterc10@msn.com]

Very good I like it so far 

[JJDaddy]

Color me interested. Good start.

[BabySofia]

Gulp! Interesting start!

Check your tags, you accidentally grabbed the misspelled 'Diaper Dimesion' tag instead of the 'Diaper Dimension' tag. 

[Kat5]

Don't do it, Jack! Stay at the tier you're in!

(Or more realistically l: good luck delaying things as long as you can!)

[LtlGary]

This is really good! I'm hooked! 😎