The Meeting (Patreon)

A short story, commissioned by an anonymous Patron.

Macy was already in a bad mood, even before she heard the sound of giggling in the hall. When she got like this, she hated to see any evidence of anyone having a better time, not least of all when she got closer, overheard what the conversation was about.

"I bet she wouldn't be so grumpy all the time if she didn't wear those stupid heels," Jacqueline was smirking. "They must hurt her widdle feet so much!"

"Yeah, but if she didn't, nobody would be able to see her, she's so tiny!" Bruce joined in. "We'd just hear her voice and look around for her, and..." He mimed searching, putting a hand over his eyebrows, scanning the hallway back and forth... And then freezing as he locked eyes with Macy. 

"If you two are done flirting," Macy said coldly, enjoying the sight of Jacqueline, whose back was to her, jumping in surprise, turning and blushing, "you're about to be late for the meeting."

Of course, that meant she was, too, but that didn't matter; she was the boss, she showed up when she wanted to. She liked to make them wait an extra minute or two, just to show them she could, so they knew that she had far more important things to do than berate them into doing their jobs better, which was, indeed, how most of their team meetings seemed to go.

Jacqueline opened and then closed her mouth like a fish, glancing over at Bruce nervously, as if silently asking if he thought Macy had overheard. He gave her a tiny nod, the redness in Jacqueline's cheeks darkening. "I-I didn't..." she tried to explain.

"Get to the meeting room," Macy snapped, watching the pair rush off before lifting one foot off the floor, adjusting her shoe. They weren't entirely wrong, she had to admit... She loved her heels for being able to give her at least a few extra inches, to help a little in giving her the intimidating air she wanted to maintain, as difficult as that was for someone as short as her, but they certainly weren't comfortable by any stretch of the imagination. At this point, though, they were a necessary evil. She'd never dream of letting her subordinates see her without them.

She had intended to stop by the bathroom first, to take her time in there while everyone else was squirming in their seats in the meeting room, wondering what they'd done wrong this time. Her encounter had gotten her blood boiling so hot, however, that she stormed past it, confident it could wait until the meeting was over, following only a few steps after Jacqueline and Bruce - with her shorter legs, it did take a bit longer for her to cover the same distance - and bursting into the room almost before they'd had a chance to sheepishly take their seats.

"I don't think I have ever been more disappointed in a team than I have been right now," she started, stomping to her seat at the front of the conference table. They were, to be fair, words she said relatively often, but she trusted her tone to convey how much she meant them this time. 

"It was..." one of her workers spoke up.

"No!" she spun around, glaring at him, shutting him up instantly. "There are no excuses for this!" She couldn't even bring herself to sit down, pacing back and forth behind her chair, listening to the satisfying clack of her heels on the shiny, well-polished hardwood floor echoing through the room. "There will be explanations, and apologies," she clarified, staring holes through each of their skulls in turn, "but there are no excuses good enough to justify how badly you've all screwed this up!"

She reversed the motion, scanning back across the table in the opposite direction, savoring their discomfort, their shame... Until she got to Jacqueline and Bruce, who looked like they were on the verge of laughter again. "Do I need to separate you two?!" she growled, crossing to their chairs in a flash. "Or would you rather go get a private room somewhere?!"

The pair fell silent, like the rest of the room, while Macy stood there, arms folded. "Well?" she asked, not done yet. "What do you have to say for yourselves?!"

To her surprise, Jacqueline was the one to open her mouth first, although she wasn't sure she could call what came out of the woman's mouth words, at least not any Macy had ever heard before. She snorted, ready to make fun of her for being so scared - and of someone she'd just mocked for being short - that she'd forgotten how to speak properly when something happened.

She couldn't say what, exactly. She felt, for a moment, like she was falling, reaching out instinctively for the table to help steady her, certain one of her heels at broken at the wrong time. When she glanced down, however, they both seemed to be fine, from what she could tell, yet turning her gaze back to Jacqueline and Bruce made her positive they looked taller than they had before, even sitting down. 

It hardly projected the strength she wanted to demonstrate, but she had to raise one of her feet so she could get a view of the underside of her shoe to see if the heel was bent slightly, or starting to break. Tripping and falling on her way back to her seat would be far worse than this, she told herself. 

The heel appeared totally intact, from what she could tell, though that didn't change the fact that it looked shorter than it ought to be. Weirder still, the bottom of her black shoe was a soft, pastel pink. Had she stepped in a giant wad of bubblegum?! It didn't feel sticky, however, when she lowered it back to the floor, and her other shoe was the same. 

Was this a designer thing? She knew Louboutins had red soles; she had some in her closet. These were definitely pink, not red, and she didn't remember buying any like that. She wouldn't, not unless they were by a very good designer, and something she knew people would recognize as such. She hated pink with a passion.

She was baffled, thrown off her game for a minute as she walked back to the head of the table. The shoes never felt unstable, like they were going to make her fall, but she had the distinct sensation she was sinking, every step bringing her lower and lower... And, admittedly, making the shoes feel a bit less uncomfortable. By the time she reached her seat, she was horrified to turn and discover she could barely see over the conference room table. Quickly, she hopped into her chair, praying nobody else had noticed, peering down at her feet.

Her eyes widened, stunned and mortified in equals amounts. Her heels were gone completely, nowhere to be found, and, in their place, she was wearing a pair of soft, pink booties... The kind a baby would wear. How could that have happened?! It was impossible, and yet... There they were, on her feet, cradling them gently, so much cozier and comfier than her heels, and a million times more embarrassing, less appropriate for the workplace, and her position there.

She blushed, shaking her head. Nobody would know, she told herself. She'd stay in her chair the rest of the time, not leave until everyone else was out of the room... And then she'd go back to her office. She'd thought about this, stressed about the day it would inevitably happen, so she had an extra pair of heels tucked away in her desk. If she timed it right, she could get there and put them on unseen.

Until then, she had to get back to the meeting. "You know what? Let's just get to it! I can tell you all what I really think of you after I hear what you have to say for yourselves!" She had intended to start with that, but she was too flustered now, needed a few moments to collect herself. "Let's start with you, Andre."

She forced herself to ignore the mysterious booties and listen to him, projecting as much authority and menace as she could muster... Until she noticed a slight breeze on her ankles, one that should have been impossible through her pantyhose. She frowned, fidgeting a little, trying to pretend it wasn't there, only for it to grow, for her to feel the cool sensation of freedom creeping up her legs. Finally, she caved, lowering her head, pretending she was frustrated with Andre, and saw that her pantyhose were riding up. How that was happening, she couldn't say, though she recognized now that her toes had felt a bit more free after her heels had transformed. Her whatever happened to her shoes ripped her hose, too?

When she bent over in an attempt to tug them back into place, however, she found that she was wrong; The pantyhose weren't creeping up her legs... They were vanishing. There was nothing extra for her to pull down, and, in fact, it shortened as she held it, slipping right out from between her fingers. 

"Ma'am?"

She straightened back up, cheeks red as she saw everyone staring at her. "W-Well, that is not good enough, Andre," she composed herself as quickly as possible. "You should have been on top of..." She squirmed, the feeling of the disappearing pantyhose having reached her thighs, tickling her slightly as they went, distracting her. "W-We'll talk about it later! Hilary, what about you?"

Was it speeding up?! It was like a million tiny fingers, running up the tops of her legs, moving ever closer to her crotch in a way that made her very nervous for some reason, even if she never would have anticipated what would happen when it got there, when, all at once, the last of her pantyhose vanished, and the smooth, luxurious silk of her panties turned into... something else.

She didn't know what it was at first, or, rather, couldn't accept it. They bulged outwards beneath her tight skirt, growing exponentially thicker between her thighs, pushing them apart, the outside becoming slicker while the inside, though still soft, changed its texture entirely. It wasn't until she moved in her seat and heard the crinkling sound that it became undeniable.

A diaper. She was wearing a diaper. She let out an involuntary gasp, her head spinning in disbelief and humiliation. How in the world was this happening to her?! She knew her crotch was below the table, that nobody could see, but she found herself anxiously tugging at her skirt anyway, desperate to keep this hidden... Only to find, to her horror, that her skirt was starting to shrink, the fabric, like her pantyhose, dissolving into nothing, creeping up her legs...

"I-I am shocked at your incompetence!" she covered as best she could, pretending that was the reason for her reaction, looking away from her rapidly disintegrating outfit to her subordinates to find them watching her again. "How could you let that happen?!" She had to hope that made sense with what Hilary had said, because she hadn't been paying attention at all. "Casey, you!" she moved on quickly, in case it didn't, not wanting to give anyone time to dwell.

Before Casey could even begin to speak, Macy felt her chair lurch upwards, lifting her up past the lip of the table. She swallowed a curse, squeezing her legs together, trying to twist, to push the lever that would lower it again, only to feel the side of the skirt she'd let go of to do so riding up, dangerously close to the padded shame beneath it. Frantically, she grabbed at it instead, but she could tell that was a temporary solution, that her skirt was continuing to shrink, as her booty-clad feet kicked beneath her nervously.

"Well?!" she shrieked. "What do you have to say for yourself, Casey?!"

"No, Macy," Jacqueline interrupted. "I think we should hear what you have to say for yourself."

"Excuse me?!" Macy glared at her. "First of all, you will address me as...!" The words stuck in her throat as she saw the expressions of delight in her staff's faces, informing her she'd lost the battle, that her skirt was now officially too short to hide her diaper. She whimpered, letting go of it, moving her hands between her legs instead, trying to hide the padding that way... And feeling a strange warmth there, quickly growing, spreading.

"I mean, honestly, Macy," Jacqueline shook her head. "An accident, at your age? No wonder you're still in diapers!" 

Macy whimpered, shaking her head. "I-I'm not...!" she insisted, only to realize that was, indeed, exactly what was happening. A true accident, one she hadn't even noticed was happening... Why hadn't she gone to the bathroom before the meeting like she'd planned?!

She looked down at herself in time to see the last of her skirt shrivel up beneath the hem of her suit jacket, exposing the entirety of her diaper, bright pink, like her booties, a tell-tale discoloration on the crotch, expanding as she continued to wet herself, unable to stop it no matter how hard she tried. What an absolutely ridiculous sight she was, she thought miserably... A strict, mature businesswoman from the waist up, while, below, she might as well be a slightly overgrown toddler!

But even that wasn't going to last long... Her jacket, and the dress blouse underneath, suffering the same fate as the rest of her clothing, vanishing into thin air, leaving the pale skin underneath bare. It went on for quite a ways like that, Macy fearing she was going to be left in no more than her diaper and booties, though, eventually, the clothes began to transform into something else...

A bib. An oversized, pink bib, long enough to hide her breasts, if only just. It was better than nothing, she supposed, but barely. And, as the last of her grown-up wardrobe disappeared, she felt something appear around her head, a frilly, infantile baby bonnet in, of course, pink. 

She didn't even know how to react to that, what to do... It felt like a nightmare, but as far as she could tell, she was still wide awake as Jacqueline got to her feet, strutting over, easily pushing her hands aside and giving her squishy diaper a squeeze. "You soaked this!" the girl scolded her. "It's a good thing I have one of my daughter's spares in my purse... I'm afraid it won't match your sweet little outfit, though."

Macy's stomach lurched, watching Jacqueline open up her purse and pull out a diaper, setting it down on the conference table. "Th-That's..." she groaned. "Th-That's a Pamper... I-I can't wear..."

"Oh, don't worry," Jacqueline winked, producing a changing pad from her purse as well, unfolding it, spreading it out on the table as well, making it clear that was where Macy was going to be changed, right in front of everyone. "I think it'll fit you perfectly."

"B-But those are for babies!" Macy whined. "I-I'm not a baby!"

"You're right," Jacqueline agreed, to Macy's surprise. "If you were a baby, maybe we could forgive you for the tantrum you've been throwing all day... Since you aren't, though... I think you deserve a spanking, young lady, and a nice, long time-out for the rest of the meeting while everyone else has a constructive, adult conversation about what we can do better next time."

Macy shook her head, face burning bright red as she heard the cheers coming from the rest of her subordinates. "N-No!" she sniffled. "Y-You can't do this!"

"Why don't you let me take care of that?" Bruce offered, standing up and walking over. "You get her new Pampers ready for her." Macy gulped, staring up at Bruce, who looked so much bigger and more intimidating now than ever before as she squirmed in her seat, soggy diapers crinkling loudly, knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that, after today, there was no way she would be intimidating to anyone in this room ever again, not after they saw her get spanked, Pampered, and sent to the corner.