Smart House - Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Work certainly wasn't what Pat was dressing Brigid for the next morning. Brigid didn't look at first, not having the strength to fight with Pat about it after having spent the full weekend in these clothes - she had, of course, refused the diaper and PJs last night, too - just trudging to the bathroom to take a shower. She tossed her clothes onto the back of the toilet to take to her hamper afterwards, careful to ensure none of them fell onto the floor.

The warm water felt so good, even if she knew was in for an argument if she wanted to get any of her normal clothes back. Things were looking better already, at least, her window having been uncovered, letting her think that surely the rest of the house had been unsealed, too. She had her freedom again... To some degree, anyway.

She gathered up her dirty clothes once she was finished with her shower, going back up to her room, setting them down on her bed first, just in case. Her stomach turned when she opened up her closet and found what was unmistakably a school uniform: a white button up with a Peter Pan collar and a baby blue jumper dress with a pleated skirt that looked awfully short. On the floor of the closet was a pair of shiny, black Mary Janes.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Looking to her dresser, she saw a pair of frilly, white ankles socks... And what was, unmistakably, a Pull-Up. A Pull-Up! All those trips to the bathroom yesterday felt even more humiliating now, with this confirmation that Pat truly didn't think she was potty trained, or at least potty trained enough to be trusted out of the house without some protection...

Furiously, she ripped open the top drawer of her dresser, yelping out loud in almost physical pain at what awaited her there. All of her panties, just like her grown-up suits, and dresses, were gone. The drawer was neatly split in half, one side filled with Pull-Ups, the other diapers. This couldn't be happening! This wasn't the underwear drawer of any self-respecting adult! This was the underwear drawer of a toddler! Touching it as little as she could, she swept the one that had been laid out for her inside, pushing it closed, her heart pounding.

She didn't really want to resort to this, but she hadn't thrown her clothes into the hamper yet for this very reason, a small part of her afraid something like this could be coming, although she hadn't thought it would go this far. It felt gross, stepping back into the undies she'd worn for the entire weekend, but they were miles better than the alternatives.

Like it or not, the school uniform was her best option, she discovered, at least from what she could tell at a quick shuffle. The skirt was short enough that it felt risky defying Pat's wardrobe choice, but, considering what that was, she was willing to try it. She knew there was no point arguing with Pat about it, that it wouldn't get her anywhere, so she sulked her way through breakfast and headed for the door.

"Brigid," Pat said, appearing in front of her, seemingly even taller now, staring down at her. "How are your Pull-Ups? Do you need a change before you leave?"

"No!" Brigid blushed. "Th-They're fine."

"Let me see," Pat ordered. Brigid shook her head, and there was a clang as the house went into lock-down mode, trapping Brigid inside once more, before she'd had the chance to so much as step outside. "Let me see," she repeated.

She had to know... She must have known all along. It was hard for Brigid to remember that Pat was everywhere, all the time, that she saw everything. She'd been playing along, giving Brigid a chance to confess what she'd done, but now that Brigid had failed to do that, she was forcing her hand. "I don't need Pull-Ups!" she whimpered.

"You're not leaving this house until you put them on," Pat informed her.

There was nothing she could do, no way to avoid this... Reluctantly, Brigid slunk back to her room, Pat waiting for her beside the dresser, looking disappointed as she watched her slip her panties off. "Go ahead," Pat urged. "Just drop them on the floor."

"I-I can go put them in the hamper," Brigid offered.

"I don't want you to be late," Pat said. "Drop them."

Brigid wasn't sure why, but it felt so much more ominous, so much more final, doing that, watching as the self-cleaning floors swallowed up what appeared to be her last pair of underwear. "Good," Pat nodded. "Now, put your Pull-Up on, young lady, so you can get to school."

"No!" Brigid whined, stomping her foot. She knew it was childish, and that it wouldn't help, and that only made her want to do it more, since it felt like, in the moment, that was all she could do. No wonder kids threw tantrums, she thought, cheeks warming at the memory of Pat saying she'd been throwing one last night, and tranquilizing her with that pink mist. She couldn't afford to let that happen again, had to get away, out of this house, to work, so she forced herself to stand still, hands curled into fists, quivering with frustration, a stray tear trailing down her cheek.

"Brigid, you can either wear your Pull-Up, or you can put on a diaper. It's up to you, but you certainly aren't leaving this house with no underwear on," Pat told her.

It was true, that wasn't a good option, either, as short as her skirt was. A quick flash of a pair of trainers under it might be mistaken as panties, if she was lucky, and the person who caught it didn't have kids... If she went with nothing, however, that would be just as - if not more - unmistakable as a diaper would be, and, as a partner, neither was a look that she wanted to go for.

She glared daggers at the hologram, yanking the drawer open and taking a Pull-Up out, nearly gagging at the feel of it, at the stiff, slightly crinkly outer shell, at how big and bulky it felt in comparison to her normal panties... And this was, she was sure, nothing compared to the diapers on the other side of the drawer. She dropped the training panties on top of her dresser, slamming the drawer shut to display her displeasure, and so she wouldn't have to look at its contents anymore, then, reluctantly, took the Pull-Up again, opening it up.

They were so insulting, even beyond their mere existence in her life, her house, her underwear drawer... Minnie Mouse was printed on the front, with a guitar underneath her in lighter ink, ready to fade if, somehow, Brigid had an accident. Far worse than that, though, were the fake waistband and legbands, printed onto the design itself, to make it look sort of like a pair of big girl panties, if you squinted, and had never seen the real thing up close. Assuming the glimpse was quick enough, and from far enough away, it might fool someone at work if she tripped, or moved a bit too fast... She was definitely going to know better.

"Pat," she pouted. "Do I really...?"

"Brigid," the woman crossed her arms sternly. "You've wasted enough time already, young lady."

Brigid groaned, but slid the awful thing up her legs. Her only hope had been that it might be too small, that, since it was meant for a toddler, it wouldn't fit, and that would show Pat that she'd made a mistake with all this... Unfortunately, that wasn't the case at all. She had no trouble getting them on whatsoever, and when they snapped into place, it was like they'd been made for her, not someone ten times younger than her.

"That isn't so bad, is it?" Pat cooed. 

"Yes!" Brigid hissed, tugging at the garment, blushing as the padding moved, brushing against her privates, rustling softly. "They're awful! And I don't need them!"

"We'll see about that after you get home from school," Pat said, ignoring the first part of Brigid's protest.

Brigid looked at herself in the mirror, knowing that, really, she didn't look any different with her skirt down over the trainers, yet still positive that it was obvious what she had on. "I look like a baby!"

"And you're acting like one, too," Pat replied. "Now, hurry up, you'll miss your bus."

The little girl in the reflection wiped her moist eyes, nibbling at her lip when she saw how much that made her jumper ride up, how close that simple action came to exposing her secret. She couldn't go to work like this... She would never live it down! But, on the other hand, she couldn't just not show up to work... She was a partner, and the newest one; she couldn't blow off work at the last minute without a very good excuse, and being late so she could go buy herself a new outfit, complete with underwear, wouldn't look good, either, since she didn't think any of the places she usually shopped would even be open for another couple hours.

Was she seriously going to do this?! Glancing at her phone, she could see that, thanks to all her useless fighting, there was no time to do anything other than head right to work... And she saw that she had an important meeting with a prospective client scheduled first thing, one that only validated her thoughts about how she couldn't skip, or show up later. "Shit," she whispered under her breath as it dawned on her that she didn't really have a choice here.

"Brigid!" Pat scolded. "That's not a very nice thing to say! You're lucky you're running late so I don't wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!"

Standing there, dressed as she was, the threat felt very real for a moment, until she remembered the limitations of Pat's form. Considering everything else she'd been able to manipulate Brigid into doing, however, she didn't feel like gloating over that victory. She hurried out the door, wrinkling her nose at the sensation of the Pull-Up between her legs as she walked, at the way it brushed against her thighs, how she was sure she could hear it, though she knew, realistically, that was probably her imagination more than anything.

Sliding into her car made her feel somewhat better, more grown-up and independent, but only for a minute or two. She was still headed right for work, and what was bound to be a difficult day there... She was the one driving, and technically, she could have gone anywhere, yet she was just as trapped as she had been in the house over the weekend, her responsibilities, and need to prove herself, ensuring she wasn't going anywhere other than work, no matter how she looked.

She passed by a few department stores on the way, a part of her thinking about stopping in, that even whatever cheap professional wear they might have there would be better than a school uniform. It wouldn't be as good as her usual wardrobe, obviously, but it was more accessible at the moment. The parking lots were pretty full, however, for the time of day, and they were so big... Even if she managed to avoid a line at the register, by the time she found her way to the right department, hunted down something appropriate, praying it was in the right size - usually it wasn't, which was part of why she had to shop at more specialty stores - she would definitely have missed that first meeting.

She very nearly did anyway, as she put her head down and tried to rush through the reception area, not wanting to be seen. "Wait a second, sweetie," one of the receptionists called out. "Are you looking for your Mommy?"

Brigid knew it was directed at her, and it made her face practically glow red, her pace speeding up, to no avail, a hand clamping down around her wrist, yanking her to a stop, the quick loss of momentum making her skirt fly upwards for a long, heart-stopping moment, right in the middle of the lobby. Brigid was certain Minnie was on display, and her guitar, that everyone could see, and would know, and that fear was enough to make a few drops of pee drip out of her, which did nothing to help her feel like the big, bad partner she was, rather than the little girl she was dressed as.

"This isn't a playground, dear," the receptionist informed her. "If you need me to call someone, I can do that, but I can't let you run around on..."

Brigid hadn't known what she was going to do, how to handle this, whether it would be more embarrassing to admit who she was, or to stay quiet and hope for a chance to sneak away, with the receptionist hopefully never knowing the truth... She didn't get the chance to make that choice, however.

"Oh!" the woman blushed, letting go of her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am! I didn't... I should have..." Brigid felt just as, if not more, humiliated, her face just as red as she straightened her dress, nose wrinkled at the slight warmth in the crotch of her trainers, thanks to this incident. "I mean, why are you dressed like that in the first place?"

"That," Brigid sniffed, with as much dignity as she could muster, "is none of your concern. We'll have a conversation about this later."

She hoped that wasn't true; she'd rather let the receptionist worry about it, dread getting fired over her - perfectly understandable, if Brigid was being honest - mistake, than actually bring this incident up ever again. Maybe, if she was lucky, that anxiety would keep the woman from talking about it with her friends here... She didn't think most people would believe the receptionist if she told the story, if they didn't see her today, but there were cameras everywhere, so it wouldn't be hard for the woman to get a picture, or even a video, to prove it, if she sweet-talked the security people.

How good were the cameras? Would that flash of her Pull-Ups be obvious from them? She shivered, staring at the crowded elevator and opting for the stairs instead, not wanting to accidentally brush against anyone in her padded panties. Had whoever was working security now been watching that camera? Had they seen, too? It was terrifying to consider, to realize how quickly her reputation here could be dismantled from one tiny slip-up. Perhaps she should have called in after all, meeting or not... If she left now, though, she'd have to slink back past the receptionist... 

Avoiding people had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was a long walk up to the floor with her office, leaving her feeling tired and sweaty, and even less prepared to sweep right into the meeting room with an important new client. She ought to start things off, to take command, yet she couldn't, having to pause to catch her breath.

"Hello, there," the most well-dressed of the men seated in the room said, smiling at her, his tone making it clear that he, like the receptionist, saw her as a lost child. Since that was almost certainly the prospective client, Mr. Humphrey, that was less than ideal. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um..." Brigid blushed, hating how flustered she was. "I-I'm Ms. Benson," she announced, seeing the eyebrows of everyone assembled there raise. "Don't let this fool you," she forced a chuckle, gesturing to her outfit. "I'm actually, uh..." Her mind raced, trying to formulate an explanation, wondering now why she hadn't done so on the car ride here, how she could have been so stupid not to have thought to do it until now. She really did feel like a dumb little schoolgirl in front of these people who were so obviously adults, especially in comparison to her... 

"Th-The firm is representing a school," she sputtered, after probably far too long for it to sound genuine. "Th-They wanted our input on their new uniforms, and what better way to give it than first-hand experience?" She gave a strained laugh. "That's the... the personal level of service you can expect here! A-Anyway, we're meeting with them right after this, so... Well, I apologize for how I look, I promise this isn't how I usually dress!"

"I should hope not," Mr. Humphrey smirked. "I have to think it would be hard to argue your case in court in that outfit... If the opposing counsel didn't like what you had to say, it would be very easy for them to pull you over their lap and give you a spanking, and send you to the corner."

Brigid made herself laugh at that, though, after her weekend, it didn't feel particularly funny. Images of being dragged over to a chair, set up in the middle of a courtroom, ran through her mind, of a much bigger, woman, her suit tailored to perfectly show off the cleavage Brigid knew she lacked, especially without her usual padded bras, lifting up the back of her jumper's skirt, revealing her soggy seat to everyone there...

"How can we trust anything she has to say," the woman would sneer, "when she isn't even capable of keeping her training panties dry?"

Brigid could hear the laughter echoing through her imagination, amplified from the chuckles of Mr. Humphrey's companions, as she kicked her legs helplessly over the woman's lap, as she was spanked silly, sent to time-out with her skirt tucked into the waistband of her Pull-Ups, ensuring they were on display, her hands on her head to keep them from attempting to hide her shame...

"I-I'm sure you're right," she said. "I assure you, that would never happen."

For as rocky as the start was, she did manage to recover fairly well, to regain as much of her composure as she could. In fact, by the end of the meeting, she'd almost forgotten what she was wearing, her mind having shifted back to work mode, until Mr. Humphrey was getting ready to leave. "Don't let me keep you," he told her. "I know how strict they can be at St. Lucie's."

"Where?" Brigid asked without thinking.

"Isn't that the school you're representing?" he frowned. "My daughter goes there, so I recognize the uniform... Actually, I'm not sure what they've changed about it, looking at yours, but I imagine it just goes to show I'm not as observant as I thought."

Brigid froze; she hadn't even considered he might have recognized the uniform, and could call her out on her bluff! "W-Well, I..." she stammered. "I-I think... the fabric..."

"Ah, that must be it," he smiled knowingly. "You're probably not allowed to talk much about it anyway, attorney client privilege and all."

"Y-Yeah!" Brigid nodded, grasping onto that excuse for dear life.

She was grateful she hadn't ruined her firm's chances with him, despite everything, though she had to hope he didn't check up on her claims of working for his daughter's school now. She hurried from the meeting room right to the bathroom, both to use it, and to examine the damage her little accident had done. Part of the guitar was definitely faded. It was slight, but she had no doubt it would be obvious to Pat, or anyone used to looking at Pull-Ups... And, as small as it was, there was no way to take it back, or hide what she'd done. The lines of the guitar were fuzzy now, and that could mean only one thing.

She had intended to send her secretary off to get her another outfit, but when she got to her office, she recalled that the girl was off for the first half of the week. She hadn't figured out how she was going to ask the girl to pick up a package of Pull-Ups, anyway, so it wouldn't have solved all of her problems.

There was only one way to do that... And, after a long day of awkward meetings, and hiding in her office as much as she could, she set about putting it into motion. She had plenty of time to stop at the store after work, to pick up a screwdriver, since Pat had taken her other tools. All she had to do was get inside the control room, and all this would be over...

She was tempted to get a pack of Pull-Ups so she could change herself, not wanting to be caught as she was, but she knew that was silly. After she deactivated Pat, she wouldn't need them, so even if the AI found out about this accident, besides the initial embarrassment, it wouldn't matter. Hopefully, she'd be able to find where Pat had stashed her real clothes, too, so she didn't buy herself anything to replace them yet, although she was tempted, just in case.

She went home, slipped inside, feeling like a burglar, even though it was her own house, and headed straight for the control panel. Of course, it didn't make a difference how quiet she was, Pat knew she was there, appearing, hands on her hips, to scold her. "What are you doing home so late, young lady?" she demanded. "School was over hours ago!"

"I wasn't at school," Brigid reminded her, storming through her, and into the hall, taking the screwdriver out of the bag, throwing the latter aside so the floors could clean it up. "I'm sorry about this, Pat, I really am, but..."

"Sorry about what, Brigid?" Pat asked, popping back up ahead of her once more. "Did you have an accident? That's all right, it's why you're in Pull-Ups! Go on, show me."

"No," Brigid refused, stepping through the hologram again, finding the panel, raising the screwdriver. "I'm not showing you..."

"Whoa!" Brigid spun around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, finding a girl there. She was tall, certainly taller than Brigid, and pretty, though she looked barely old enough to be out of college yet, at best, with glasses and short, blonde hair. "That's not a toy!"

"Hey!" Brigid squeaked as the girl yanked the screwdriver out of her hand, having no trouble doing so whatsover, or in holding it well out of Brigid's reach. "Wh-Who are you?!"

"Don't be rude, Brigid," Pat lectured. "This is your babysitter, Carissa. She's here to help me take care of you, and do the things I'm not quite capable of."

As if to demonstrate, Carissa grabbed Brigid's skirt, lifting it up. "H-Hey!" Brigid gasped, trying to push her jumper back down, but it was too late.

"You see, Brigid?" Pat told her patiently, "This is why I can't let you have your big girl panties anymore. And now, young lady... I think we ought to talk about that foul language you used this morning..."